#Overthinking is my superpower

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

It’s Week 3 and I promised I’d commit to my theory for Season of the Seraph’s story arc if hubris didn’t come knocking for me before then, so time to put my money where my digital mouth is. I’ve seen folks talking about the first part of this theory, but not the second, so here goes: 1) Clovis will try to make himself the new Warmind and 2) in the process breach the Ascendant Realm and open the way for Xivu Arath.

Clovis, by the way, gave away the game like two minutes in because he can’t keep his dang mouth shut. Clovis couldn’t resist a good smug gloat. He gave it all away when Ana said god, fine, hop on this disk and we’ll go. He said, “Once I am in control, all will be as it should be. The Warmind will rise again.” 

As it should be? That line stopped me cold. Clovis hated that Rasputin was in charge. He couldn’t believe he, the genius Clovis Bray the first, was expected to take orders from a jumped-up calculator he used to own. A restored Rasputin is not “as it should be” in Clovis-land. What is “as it should be?” It’s Clovis, so that’s easy: the way things should be is with him in charge. He doesn’t say, “Rasputin will rise again.” He says, “The Warmind will rise again.” Clovis is going to get all the subminds together except put himself at the center instead of the Rasputin core Ana has, and try to make himself the new Warmind. All of which would just be fun to watch as we wait for Red to break him, but: there’s Xivu Arath to deal with. 

We’re all worried about Xivu getting into the warsats. I don’t think she wants them at all. In the Judgement of Kelgorath lore she doesn’t order Kelgorath to go get her some warsats. She says: possess the Warmind. Xivu Arath has plenty of weapons already. What she needs, as Mara points out, is a way in. Mara comments in the encounter dialogue that moving an army through the ascendant realm is very hard. But Xivu did it over Torobatl. How? Sav showed her the way: she did it by getting someone on the other side to build her a gate.

I was surprised in Season of the Hunt by the extent of control Xivu displayed. I thought her unlikely to go for subversive powers like Oryx’s Taking or Sav’s manipulation. But she’s a lot smarter than I gave her credit for. Her Wrathborn contagion is effective, coercive, and quick-spreading. It makes sense metaphorically: violence is a kind of disease, an insidious way of thinking that spreads and snares people till they see everything as a conflict to be settled by force. Xivu invaded the Cabal by infecting Caiatl’s co-ruler Umun’arath, general of the Cabal legions. Driven further and further into obsession with the conflict Xivu Arath makes herself synonymous with, Umun’arath invoked her in the rituals of warfare - the same ones Eris and Eido were discussing - opening the way for Xivu’s armies to pour into the skies over Torobatl. 

For Xivu to repeat that trick in our solar system, she needs another Umun’arath. But Umun’arath was a singularly convenient target: the military chief of the war machine of a huge conquering interstellar empire, or in other words, someone you might call...war-minded. When scouting our solar system Xivu probably heard the name “Warmind” and thought hell yeah, that’s my ticket in. Except it’s not, because Rasputin’s a) not coherent right now and b) not fundamentally the personality she needs. That’s what we’re already exploring this season: at his core Rasputin was never a martial system. He was a pretentious art nerd who got drafted. They made him a Warmind. Xivu Arath needs someone coterminous with war for its own sake, with conflict as the apex of existence, with the supreme violence she represents. And ironically it turns out the Warmind Rasputin is not sufficiently war-minded. 

But Clovis is.

Clovis Bray already sees life as endless contest and conflict via his pseudo-evolutionary legacy bullshit. He’s Xivu’s dream target. When you first see her forces attacking him Clovis is like “they want my precious braaaaaain!” and Osiris goes, “no, they want him. Brought to submit.” That’s exactly what Clovis wants of Rasputin (and to a lesser extent Ana and Elsie): brought to submit. He’s neck deep in Darkness on his own, no convincing needed. And he’s a coward. If Clovis hasn’t cut a deal yet with either Xivu or the Witness to ensure “humanity’s” (his) survival in exchange for his allegiance, he will as soon as he has the reins. After all, let it not be said that he left humanity to fend for itself, right?

So that’s her plan: Xivu Arath attacks the warsat infrastructure to force us to go to Clovis and give him access to Red’s enclave. She waits while we do all the hard work of laying out the subminds to conjure back Rasputin. Clovis inevitably betrays us to slot himself in instead and take control, rousing Rasputin’s entire apparatus of violence to impose his own command on the solar system, helped along by the Wrathborn contagion already brewing in his subconscious. In doing so he invokes such immense rites of war that he opens the way for Xivu to step through. It’s Torobatl all over again...except I don’t think trying to “become the Warmind” is going to work out the way Clovis thinks. 

Clovis still doesn’t understand what Rasputin is, and he still doesn’t understand - as he doesn’t understand with any of his kids - that Rasputin is no longer as Clovis designed him to be. Even Ana hasn’t fully gotten there yet. Both Brays are still thinking of Red as a sort of jigsaw puzzle to be pieced back together. But assembling himself was the first thing Rasputin ever did. Ana still hasn’t cracked the real reason “plug engram into Exo, receive Warmind” isn’t working: because Rasputin is a distributed intelligence. He lives in connections, literally and metaphorically - between warsats, between worlds, with Ana, with humanity. He’s a creature fundamentally built on network and communication. Rasputin is already still out there. He’s in that engram, but he’s everywhere else, too. He’s still in the warsats. He’s talking to us through the Sleeper nodes. He’s going to fight Clovis for control of that Exo Frame; that’s why the frame has red eye-lights in all the season art even though Clovis uses blue ones. 

And in the larger paracausal sense our entire solar system still bears the marks of the Warmind’s influence. He’s synonymous with the Golden Age. The same way Oryx conjured back Savathun and Xivu Arath by recreating the shapes they made, Rasputin will be conjured back by the shape he traced out in a huge web of connections and actions and effects on others that Clovis, an isolated point, fundamentally doesn’t understand. So Clovis is going to pull his little coup, possibly smashing that engram along the way, and he’s going to think it’s working, too - right before Rasputin cracks him open like an egg, because the Warmind never left. I think this season ends with us fighting Clovis in full Wrathborn mode while Xivu Arath’s armies stand ready just on the other side in the Ascendant Realm, hammering to get in, and Rasputin will deliver the final blow from inside - or maybe not, since killing Umun’arath completed the ritual last time, maybe we just wedge Clovis into his own Pillory engram - stopping Xivu from getting her beachhead and leaving her angry but stranded in the Ascendant Realm. 

Hopefully. Either way I can’t wait to see what happens.

[philcoulson-redtapeninja]

Wip Wednesday| Instructions on Mindful Focus X X

Each patient had to be given a code name to be used in place of name, pronoun, or any other identifying article in the written documents. 'Safety through obfuscation', the unofficial motto of the IMF, or at least it was for the Psych Division. All documentation produced before, during, or after a session had to be written by hand, never typed on computer or typewriter, and stored in self-immolating file cabinets. Press the right spot or don't enter the right code, and all of the files would be burnt to ash in seconds. It wasn't anything new to her. In Martha's last job, anonymity was a selling point to most clients. Martha preferred to wait 'til the end of the first session to give a pseudonym. It gave her a chance to get to know them and let the nickname cement itself in her mind. Right now her notes were filled with little blank spaces just waiting to be filled with the distillation of a person. Flicking her eyes over the man on her couch, she couldn't help but correlate the unnatural stillness of Agent Hunt and a sheep dog belly down in the grass after an order to Wait. Fidgeting with her pre-session notes, she tried to find a good way to start. Should she start with just the facts? No, that wouldn't work. It would sound to much like a debriefing and Hunt wouldn't open up to an agent after all he's gone through. Maybe she could use a sweet heart approach? Acting like a doe-eyed civilian would be about the opposite of an agent as she could get.

I have also been overthinking just how the IMF would be set up

Under the vague hand wavy control of the CIA

Branch > Division > Department > Sub-Departments

Three branches of the IMF: Operations, Support, and Field. There is a great deal of overlap and sharing of personnel/resources

Operations - Agents in the foreground of Missions and intel gathering

Divisions under the Operations Branch

Control: The guy in the chair, plans and supervises the mission - James Phelps, Daniel Briggs, and Ethan Hunt

Engineering: mechanical operator, in-field technical advisory, and general Macgyver - Barnard "Barney" Collier,  Benji Dunn, and Luther Stickel

Transportation: Pilots, getaway drivers, and other specialized transportation experts. Declan Gormley

Face: Agents that wear the Mask, and have direct and consistent contact with the Mark. Honeypot is a sub-department of Face - Rollin Hand, Cinnamon Carter, and The Great Paris

Security: The hitter and strong man - also works in the IMF buildings as base security - William "Willy" Armitage, and Zhen Lei

Infiltration: Specialists in getting in-and-out of secure buildings without being found, often an acrobat. Ethan Hunt

Specialist:Pinch-hitters from other branches and other agencies - Nyah Nordoff-Hall

Intelligence: Long field operatives, moles, help open doors for IMF teams. Not part of the Field branch for administrative reasons; pay and benefits the same as Operation branch agents.

Support - Analysts, Medical staff, Fabricators, and Legal teams that support and maintain the IMF from within Headquarters(Langley?DC?) and Satellites

Divisions under the Support Branch

Medical Departments: In-Patient, Out-Patient

In-Patient Sub-Departments: Acute care(ER/Surgery), Chronic care(...everything else)

Out-Patient Sub-Departments: Pharmacy, Wound care, Physical Therapy, Specialty, and Primary Care

Analysis Departments: Intelligence analysis by Region, Psychology, [physical evidence?], and Information Distribution(Control Handlers)

Personnel Departments: Recruitment, Records, Covers, Training, and [Family and Friend management]

Legal Departments: Domestic Law, Foreign law, and Admiralty

Sub-Departments for Criminal, Civil, and for the various Continents

Cyber Departments: Cyber-Security, Code making/breaking, Electronic Infiltration, and IT. Previously part of both Analysis and Fabrication before becoming its own department.

Fabrication Departments: Wardrobe, Masks, Hazardous Materials, Large Scale Construction, Small Scale Construction, Rigging, Smithing, and R&D

Logistics Departments: Field Logistics, Operations Logistics, and Support Logistics. Works closely with the Personnel Divisions, with Sub-Departments for each Division that handle Requisitions, Supply Chains, and Disposal.

Field - a mixture of Reservists, part-timers, and Outsiders that were read into IMF for one reason or another, all supporting teams in the field and couriering messages

Divisions under the Field Branch

On-Site Fabrication:

Dead Drop:

Courier:

Local Intelligence:

Location Maintenance:

[whetstonefires]

In principle a teleporter who conserves momentum could survive a long fall by teleporting to exactly the opposite side of the planet, then back again once they reached the peak of their arc. I think this is a very funny image in its own right.

It is! I laughed.

It does require certain assumptions about how the system of teleportation conceptualizes the arrangement of spacetime which make me anxious, though.

If your motion is contemplated as being on an absolute plane then the two 'downs' are opposite and cancel each other out. Which is easy to visualize, but it also puts you in grave danger of not having your speed and vector matched to that of the planet anymore in your new position and flying off on a 66k+mph tangent into the void of space. Or into the ground, depending. And that's just considering the rate of orbit around the sun, not the rotation of the galaxy etc.

I think that is too scary, and my teleportation system will coordinate relative to the gravity wells of planets whenever possible rather than trying to do advanced spaceship math every time I go anywhere. I would definitely die.

[sage-reads-things]

Hanawa has established that he's a man who's interested in other people. In his first fight with Taiyo, I said that he seemed to be testing Taiyo, trying to see if he was as capable as the Yozakura name implied. This entire fight feels like another test. Specifically, I think Hanawa is testing Taiyo's emotional endurance.

It’s not enough to be a good spy physically and mentally. You also have to be a good spy emotionally—you have to focus on your target, ignoring all distractions and personal biases, and disregard all morality except your own (or that of your client’s). So in this fight, Hanawa (1) taunts Taiyo, (2) messes with his sense of right and wrong, and (3) manipulates his conscience. He's specifically aiming for the part of Taiyo that wants to save people, the part that Hanawa thinks motivated Taiyo to save that little girl.

But what does Taiyo do? He looks Hanawa in the eye and says "I don't care." He makes it clear that he's not interested in the "right" or "wrong" of the situation, even going so far as to admit that he never thought he was in the right. He's simply decided to protect what's important to him.

And to be clear, Taiyo isn't saying that he doesn't care about other people's wellbeing or that he wouldn't save them if it were possible. He's simply focusing his line of vision, streamlining his priorities so that Hanawa's jabs don't get to him. Mutsumi needs saving. Taiyo will save her. And if he needs to make a choice between Mutsumi or the greater good, he'll choose Mutsumi, consequences be damned.

[voidnerd]

This party really isn’t ready for me playing a scheming character. It hasn’t even been 4 days since last session and already I have 9 different plans sketched out and possibly ready depending on what Berith can make work with whatever he has access to at the start of next game.

[mystery-amalgamate]

WELL

I need everyone to take this quiz right now and reblog what element they get

[bruxbea]

*walking in circles obliviously climbing any and all furniture in our path* I want to do a dark urge run I fear during a dark urge run how to make this math-

[powerpayback]

sometimes i am so tempted to make long lengthy lore posts but then i feel like. no one will want them. but idk i always have ideas 👀

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

FINALLY somebody addressing why I am sad about Rasputin’s characterization this season. Let grandpa get ANGRY let him get PISSED. Let him drop warsats on people again

The three pillars of the Warmind Rasputin in the Destiny narrative are mystery, tragedy, and power. Those are the story roles he fulfills and the themes and settings he provides. The Warmind DLC emphasized mystery and power. Season of the Worthy emphasized power and tragedy. Season of the Seraph so far has leaned hard on the tragedy with a side of mystery. That’s fine. It’s better than fine; I’m living for a Rasputin season that finally hammers home to the general player population how emotional his entire story is (and not just the parts with the Iron Lords) if only because I’m no longer the crazy person sitting in the corner yelling this computer is extremely sad actually here’s a 12-page lore essay based on deep analysis and textual inference. We’ve never encountered Rasputin in such a weak state before and that makes it the best time for a vulnerable narrative. So this season has gone for tragedy with backup mystery. That’s fine.

But let us not neglect his third role.

Why is it so important for Rasputin to demonstrate his power? Or, put another way, why is it so satisfying when he does? When Red shot down the Almighty, regardless of whether you liked the season or even the event leading up to it, when the Almighty shattered and that shockwave cracked across the Tower I bet you felt something. We’ve seen display after display of might from a range of characters, yet nothing - maybe this is a function of who I hang out with, but - nothing evokes as visceral a response from players as when the Warmind acts. Why?

First off I think a lot of people enjoy the narrative of the sleeping giant, the dormant volcano rumbling to life. Remember when the ents go to war in The Two Towers? It’s a real thrill to watch something vast stir itself to war on our behalf, and I am one thousand percent here for that exact trope. Second, Rasputin has a clear and easy-to-sympathize-with motive for some righteous revenge. Third, he has every right to and absolutely should get very, very angry and boy is it cathartic to watch someone vent that kind of fury against the status quo. Fourth, sometimes it’s just fun to watch big space explosions. But after giving it a lot of thought I think there’s another key aspect: because Rasputin is our home team.

Rasputin represents humanity, far more than Guardians do. In the Destiny universe Rasputin embodies the apex of human technology, engineering, creativity, power - human, not Guardian. So we all have a little bit of an affinity for the Warmind, not us as Guardians but us, the players, as human beings, because he is humanity’s representative at the table of Destiny powers. The weapons Rasputin wields are weapons we recognize as our own. The technology he builds evokes real concrete tech we use. He quotes books we’ve read, he plays music we listen to, he cites our history. He’s the home team, and we are all, whether we know it or not, way down deep we are all cheering for him just a little bit, because he represents the real world we live in pitting itself against the greatest threats fantasy and scifi can conjure up. Nobody gave him Light or picked him out as the special Chosen One. All his strength is our strength. When he exercises that power, we see our own civilization sticking up for itself against the unknown. He is, in all goddamn seriousness, Flag Admiral Stabby.

So I guess I’m wrong about what I said at the beginning. There are four aspects, not three, to Rasputin’s role in Destiny: mystery, tragedy, power, and humanity. He is the representative of what the human race can build and do. So let him wake up and demonstrate that maybe humans came late to the table but we sure didn’t waste any time. Let him wake up and remind everyone that humanity’s fate won’t just decided by the immortal god-children who terrorized them for centuries in concert with alien factions with superior technology and much longer histories. Humans can do incredible things when they put their minds to it and they don’t need a paracausal permission slip to try. Let Rasputin show the solar system the creativity, tenacity, and stubborn defiance we like to imagine as our species’ defining traits. Let him bring a gun to a wizard fight. And let him win.

[mygnolia]

to weave my love ⭒ n. riki [TEASER]

⭒ SYNOPSIS -› Riki is good at many things- dancing, making fun of his friends, playing it cool (debatable.), Hell- he’s even good at saving people from falling buildings without getting whiplash. But the things he’s bad at? Well, it’s asking you out to prom, and trying to balance the shared assignment he has with you…while being Spider-man.

⭒ PAIR -› spiderman!nishimura riki x fem-pres!reader

⭒ GENRE -› fluff, banter, comfort ⭒ TROPES -› classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers ⭒ WC -› 6-10k (est.)

⭒ RELEASE DATE -› IT'S HEREEEEEEEE YAYYYY

⭒ REN SAYS... spiderman niki is a need hes so cute i love riki sm 😕🫵 also poll voted for this and tbh i just wanna write downbad riki LOLZ | LIBRARY

“God, I don’t think you can look at her any more down bad than you already do right now.” Jake picks at his food, and despite his concentration directed towards the olives on his pizza, he’s able to dodge the flying loaded nacho that goes his way, even if he wasn’t the one with superpowers.

“Can you shut up?” Riki grumbles, laying his head on his arms as he watches you smile and point to something. “I just got pummeled into a semi truck last night. Let me have this before I die in a week.”

“Very grim,” his friend notes, ruffling the younger’s hair. “I think this is exactly what all of those mental health assemblies that we get are for.” And Riki basically tunes him out, too tired to fight and too used to the teasing remarks to come up with anything useful in response.

Riki sits up a bit, letting his head rest on his propped elbow as he looks at the school food and touches another nacho gingerly. “Y’know, I read the book for English so she wouldn’t think I’m an idiot.”

His friend snickers, successfully pulling out yet another sliced olive from the cheese, much to the disgust of Riki. “She probably already thinks you’re an idiot.”

The superhero debates throwing another cheesy nacho in Jake's face, before deciding to eat it instead. “Don’t say that asshole! You make it seem like I have no chance with her.”

Jake shoots him an exasperated look that makes Riki break eye contact. “That’s because you don’t.”

“I’ll prove to her that I’m worth her time.” Riki says somewhat wistfully, still stealing glances from a few tables away. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to prom, show up to her balcony in my suit. Do that cheesy upside kiss shit people say Spiderman does.” When his friend raises an eyebrow at him, Riki shrugs. “I will! Well-maybe not the Spiderman thing, but prom definitely.”

Jake continues to look at him unconvinced as he takes a bite out of a slice of pizza with mangled cheese. “You barely talk to her in class and you think you can ask her out to prom as Nishimura Riki?” And the younger grins, his eyes still stuck on how your eyes crinkle and how your shoulders shake with laughter.

“Yup.” And his fate is sealed, just like that.

“Are you going to prom, Riki?” Is the first thing you ask when he sits down, grabbing his book and laptop with a little too much enthusiasm.

“I’m thinking about it.” Yeah- whatever confidence he had 37 minutes ago really isn’t serving him well in this moment, because frankly, Riki feels lame as ever trying to be nonchalant around you. “You?”

“I’d have to set up, so I would be there, yes. But whether or not I have a date is another story.” You smile to lighten the mood, but Riki watches you and nods, focusing back on signing into his laptop and getting his notes.

“Well, you’re not the only single one here.” And he wants to reprimand himself for saying something without thinking. “If someone asked, would you say yes?”

You think about it, really- because you don’t really have anyone in mind when it comes to prom if Riki’s not planning on going. “It’d have to someone I know- someone I talk to somewhat regularly. I’d be nice to be with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.”

Nishimura Riki might die from overthinking if he keeps wondering whether or not he fits that description to a tee.

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM ☐ talk to ____ regularly ☐ don't make it awkward ☐ be..cute?

THERE IS NO OFFICIAL TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC, join my perm taglist to be notified when this fic comes out!

if you’d like to proofread this, i’d love for someone to join my chaotic half done doc and offer some feedback/advice!

permanent fic taglist (send ask to be added) : @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll @llvrhee @firstclassjaylee @in-somnias-world @rairaiblog

[miraculouslyfine]

bombed it.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (Doesn't follow the events of anything, established relationship) Synopsis: Peter is extremely concerned about his girlfriend's safety, she doesn't really share the same sentiment, and they fight, like a lot

Word Count: 10,8k

"You can't be serious”   “I'm sorry, Y/n, but you have to choose”  

~

Peter and Y/n rarely fought.   

They just got each other. They understood each other on a deeper level; their shared traumatic experiences definitely played a part in this mutual understanding. Their love had been tested and tempered, growing stronger with every challenge they faced together. Throw some ever-growing affection and trust into the mix, and there you have it: a happy, healthy relationship.  

Sure, they had their fair share of squabbles and petty arguments, just like any couple, really. But they both valued honesty and communication. They were open about their feelings in any and every given situation, always making sure they see eye to eye, always trying to find middle ground. After all, that's what relationships are for, right? Compromise.   

Peter was willing to give up a lot of things to ensure Y/n's happiness. Nothing mattered to him more than making sure his beautiful girlfriend, his best friend, the love of his life was perfectly contented with how things were between them. Well, almost nothing.  

The one thing Peter would never budge on was Y/n's safety. That was non-negotiable. He felt it was his duty as her boyfriend, as her superhero -superpowered superhero- boyfriend, to protect her, to make sure she never got hurt.  

Now, Y/n Stark was no damsel in distress and by no means a stranger to danger and all kinds of superhero-related adventures and difficulties. Having grown up with the Avengers, her involvement with the team of heroes was inevitable.   

She was –according to the rest of the team, Peter included- a vital part of the Avengers. She took part in missions, though in a less dynamic and active sense, usually helping come up with different strategies and plans (you can never be too careful!). She brought a “much needed unique and fresh perspective to the team", as her dad used to say (“I just overthink a lot, it's not that big of a deal", she would always mutter under her breath, causing Peter to roll his eyes and playfully flick her on the head).  

Even though Tony (mostly Pepper) didn't want his daughter risking her life and getting caught up in the superhero world, he knew that if push came to shove, she needed to be able to protect herself. Plus, he couldn't deny that she had a talent. Her combat skills, ideas, creations, and great planning and thinking ahead skills were more than appreciated within the community. She was trained by the Black Widow herself for god's sake, she knew what she was doing. 

So what could have caused this schism between them, causing Peter to leave the comfort of their bed, deciding to spend the night on the couch instead, away from the feeling of her warm body next to him? 

Peter knew what she was doing. Sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night, right after he'd come back from his own patrol. She thought she was being sly about it, too. Really, Y/n? Now you're just insulting my intelligence. 

It's one thing to play vigilante and another to outright lie about it. And Peter hated lies almost as much as he hated not knowing whether she was safe or not. And these late-night activities of hers were starting to piss him off. They were not good for his heart, either. Every time he heard the soft sound of their bed creaking as she got out of it at ungodly hours, he could feel his chest tightening. He always tried to fight the urge to get up and immediately follow after her, just to make sure she wasn't doing anything reckless. 

He didn't realize right away. She didn't look like she had spent half the night fighting crime, at first. She'd return a couple of hours before he was supposed to wake up. She'd make sure there were no visible injuries and she'd go on with her day. She really thought he'd never find out (or at least not before she felt he was ready to find out). 

After a few days, the lack of sleep was apparent. And no matter how hard she tried denying it, or playing it off, Peter could tell something was up. It didn't take him long to start putting one and one together; her tiredness, some unexplainable scratches here and there, the fact that crime in NYC seemed to have subsided. 

Peter knew. And he didn't like what was happening, not one bit. They had talked about it once, a while back. She had done this before-gone around his back to play hero-, or at least attempted to, before Peter (with a little needed help from her overprotective, over the top father, the little snitch) brought an end to it. He thought she had understood, that she saw how she was being ridiculous and unreasonable. Recklessly throwing herself in danger, all in the name of proving something? That didn't sound like his very intelligent, very MINDFUL girlfriend. 

He tried talking to her again. He gave her the chance to come clean about her activities. She denied everything. 

He was mad. He was hurt. He felt betrayed. Not only did she ignore his warnings and went about it behind his back, she was also lying to his face. 

And they fought. It was bad. It was unlike any previous fight they had. They were screaming at each other, hurtful words flying in the air, the tension in the room palpable. It was getting late, they were both tired, frustrated and upset. 

"Y/n, for the last time. You're being stubborn about this. All I'm saying is there are ways for you to help without being ON the field. Without recklessly risking your life-" 

"For god's sake, Peter. You're acting like I'm some adrenaline junkie, picking up fights with random people at the bar! I am helping you-" 

"Helping me? You think making me stay up all night, worrying if you're gonna make it back in one piece, is helpful? Geez, what would I ever do without you?", he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm  

"No one asked you to stay up. I know what I'm doing. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I'm trained and-" 

"Oh, you're trained? Why didn't you just say so?" 

She sighed heavily and rubbed her temples.

"Are you done? I'm trying to talk here and you're acting like a child!" 

"I'm the one acting like a child? You're acting like an angsty teen, sneaking around, ignoring everything and everyone!", he realized his voice came out a bit higher than intended. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. 

"Listen, Y/n, this isn't a game. Your life is not a game. You're putting yourself in danger. Hell, you're putting civilians in danger! What do you think you're doing, running around playing hero? Hm? You think you're tough for going out there all on your own? You're not tough, Y/n. You're dumb. You're dumb and reckless. What do you think will happen? You think you'll be lucky every time? That nothing bad will ever happen because you are trained? All it takes is one miscalculation, Y/n, one wrong move on your end, for things to take a really bad turn. Your luck will eventually run out. You could get hurt or..." 

He took a deep breath. He didn't dare finish that sentence. The thought of ever losing her was too much for him to handle. 

"You're not invincible, no matter how hard got try to convince yourself. You don't have healing factor, you don't have super strength, enhanced senses. NOTHING. You're intelligent, yes. You're incredible, you're creative, innovative, truly one of the smartest people I've ever met. You've got heart, I recognize that. But it's not enough. Your gadgets and devices won't save you every time."  

"One bullet", his voice cracked, "one bullet, Y/n, and you're gone. Do you get it now? GONE. DEAD. Do you understand the severity of the situation? You're risking your life. And for what? Five seconds of fame? To prove you're worthy of being your father's child? What are you trying to do?", he shook his head, frustration evident in his mannerisms. 

He took a good look of her. The sight immediately broke his heart. Her gaze sparkled with a delicate brightness, the unshed tears amplifying every flicker of emotion. He felt the need the need to reach out to her, to touch her (whether that was in order to hug or strangle her he didn't know for sure). But he didn't give in. He couldn't back down. Not when her safety was on the line. He needed her to understand, to see where he was coming from. 

The tears in her eyes refused to fall, clinging stubbornly to her lashes as her glare cut through the air like a blade. Who does he think he is? 

"This is what you think I'm doing? Showing off? Trying to prove a point?", a bitter chuckle escaped her. "No, Peter. I'm being helpful. I'm helping you, the cops, the people of New York. Why do you always do this? Why do you have to be like this? Why do you think you get to decide what’s best for me? I’m trying to help you, and you're out here treating me like I'm some kind of criminal, some kind of liability, an inconvenience to you! Do you think I don’t know the risks? Do you think I’m blind to the danger? I know what I’m walking into, but it’s my choice to make, not yours! You act like I’m some fragile thing that needs protecting, but I’m not, so stop acting like it.” 

“I'll stop when you start acting like a responsible adult for once”, he replied bitterly. 

“You're not a little girl anymore, Y/n. Tony won't be always there to save you and -as much as it pains me to say- neither will I” 

“I never-” 

"You never asked me to?", he run his hand through his hair in a frustrated manner. 

“I know. God, Y/n, I know. You're so goddam stubborn. You'd rather die than ask anyone for help. You're always so eager to prove your independence, that you don't need anyone to have your back. Well, news flash! You're not invincible. You're not some kind of god. And you're certainly not a hero. You can't just shrug off a bullet or an explosion or whatever insane thing you decide to get involved in next! You're human, so start acting like it. You're not expendable. Selfish is what you are.”  

"Selfish? You think I'm selfish? For what? For wanting to help people? Don't you see the irony of this coming from you?”, she let out a laugh in incredulity, unable to even fathom how he could ever say that to her. 

“You think this is about me? You think I'm just out here looking for glory or some kind of thrill? I’m doing what needs to be done, and if you can’t see that, then maybe you don’t understand me at all. You’re calling me selfish, but the truth is, you’re the one being selfish here. You’re more concerned with your own fear, your own worries, than you are about the bigger picture. I’m not out there for me. I’m doing what I can, what I have to, because I don’t want to sit back and let things happen when I know I can make a difference.” 

Peter was fuming. 

"God, this is ridiculous. I can't keep doing this, I just can’t! You’re out of control! Every damn time I turn around, you're throwing yourself into some insane situation, thinking you’re some kind of superhero. What do you think this is—some kind of game? You act like nothing can touch you, but that’s bullshit! You’re human, you’re not indestructible, and I’m getting sick of it. 

What do you think happens if you get hurt? Or worse, if you die? Oh, wait, you don’t think, do you? No, you’re too busy basking in the glory of your own self-righteousness to realize the mess you’d leave behind. Because, guess what? I’m the one who’d have to pick up the pieces. Me. The one who’s standing here, constantly worried, because you’re too damn reckless to care about the people who love you.  

You want to help people? Fine, but not at the expense of your own life! You think I’m just supposed to stand here, watching you put yourself in danger, all for some stupid idea of being a hero? Are you kidding me?! What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you just be safe for once? Why do you have to go and do these reckless things that make my heart stop every single time? Do you even care about the people who love you?”, his chest rose and fell in sharp, measured movements, a betrayal of the battle raging within. 

She crossed her arms, her fingers digging into her skin as if trying to tether herself to composure 

“I know what I'm doing.”, she spat out. That was... a weak argument, that much she knew. But in her ~slightly~ emotional state, it was all she could over without completely breaking down in tears. 

It seemed like that single comment angered Peter to no end, making him laugh bitterly in return. 

“Do you think growing up in the Avenger's Tower makes you one of them? Here's a reality check: your little stunts don't make you a hero. They make you a liability. And if you keep this up, I don't know how much longer I can deal with it. Because I can't spend my life wondering if the next time you pull this crap will be the last time I ever see you” 

But Peter was on a roll, he couldn't stop there. 

“And you know what’s even worse? You don’t even care. You don’t care that you scare the hell out of me. You don’t care that I am waiting back here, while you do something so unbelievably reckless that might result in me losing you. Because it’s always about you, isn’t it? Your need to prove something, your need to feel important. Never mind the people you leave behind to pick up the pieces!” 

And... silence. Complete and utter silence. 

It wasn’t the kind of silence that comes from comfort; it was loaded with the weight of accusations and defenses that would never be voiced. 

Peter winced. He regretted saying those words as soon as they came out of his mouth. He was getting to her, he could tell. He also knew he was being kind of an ass about the whole thing, but he really needed her to understand how unreasonably stubborn she was being. He needed her to be safe, but it seemed like she didn't value her wellbeing all that much. He couldn't stand that. 

Ouch. That...yeah, that did the trick. It wasn't just what he said, it was mostly how he said it. So... cold and distant, poisonous almost. Like he was taunting her. She could barely recognize the man in front of her. That wasn't her sweet, loving boyfriend, her Pete, her biggest supporter. 

She understood his point of view. She is less experienced than him, especially in the sense of getting personal with the villains. The fact that she doesn't have any powers didn't help her much either. She knew he was worried about her safety, that all his anger was stemming from a place of love (even though it wasn't that evident that particular moment). But she also hoped he'd have more faith in her. After all, she is always careful, with at least three backup plans ready, just in case. She always follows protocol, doesn't make any rush decisions. And she's Iron Man's daughter for fucks sake, she does know what she's doing. 

“A liability, huh?” 

Her eyes were distant, gazing at something far beyond the room, avoiding contact like it might burn. It felt like there was an invisible wall around her, not built to shut others out but to keep herself from crumbling 

He sighed and spoke again, this time in a slightly softer tone. 

“I didn't mean it like that... I'm sorry. Look, Y/n, what I'm trying to say is I’m scared out of my mind, and I can't keep pretending like I’m okay with this. Every time you leave, I’m terrified you won’t come back. Every time you walk out the door, I wonder if I’ll be standing at your grave one day, all because you thought it was some heroic act to put yourself at risk. You think that’s noble? It’s selfish! It’s selfish because you’re not just risking yourself—you’re ripping apart the people who care about you.” 

He took another shaky, deep breath and spoke in a gentle, yet firm tone, his gaze intense. 

“I can't lose you, okay? I won't. And you doing this-this reckless, stupid, selfish thing- is how that's going to happen. If something ever happens to you... I won't forgive you for it.” 

His voice lowered but remained firm, trembling slightly.  

“And I won't forgive myself either”  

Silence settled over them once again. It was thick, like a fog settling over the room, muffling everything but the sound of their breathing. It was the kind of silence that pressed against your chest, making it hard to breathe, as though the room itself disapproved. They sat stiffly, their gazes deliberately avoiding each other, the distance between them more like a chasm than a few feet. 

Peter cleared his throat. 

Things were not looking good for them right now. He didn't like it, not one bit. The room felt suffocating, the once light and warm atmosphere long gone. He truly hated fighting with her. He wished this conversation never happened. They'd be laying on the couch now in each other's arms, with her on top of him, her head on his chest, her arms lazily draped over him as he'd run his fingers through her hair, holding her close. Just talking about their day while some movie played in the background. That's what we should be doing, Peter thought. Instead, here they were, avoiding eye contact like they were about to face Medusa. But this conversation couldn't be held off any longer. 

Soon enough the silence became unbearable. 

“Maybe it's best if we just-”  

“I should-” 

As soon as they heard the other person talking, they both closed their mouths, resulting in yet another moment of awkward silence. So in sync these two, it was almost endearing. 

Peter tilted his head slightly toward her, eyebrows raised in a silent invitation to speak. 

Her eyes closed briefly before they looked up, a flicker of acknowledgment passing over her face as she nodded weakly before speaking in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. 

“Maybe we should take some time alone... to...cool off...you know...?”  

Peter sighed. This conversation hadn't led to anything. Anything other than hurt, frustration and a headache, that is. Hours of an endless emotional back and forth, all for nothing. They hadn't reached an agreement and he was certain they weren't seeing eye to eye. And this wasn't a matter he was willing to back down from, she had to realize that her actions affected him as well. 

He understood where she was coming from, he really did. He understood better than anyone the burning need to help, the desire to make a difference, that deep sense of responsibility to the world. He *is* Spider-Man after all, that's his thing; he cares, he acts. He feels the moral duty to use his abilities to protect others, often at great personal cost. He doesn't mind. Or, at least, he didn't in the past (it is kind of different when you have someone at home waiting for you, you just got to be more careful, you know?). 

But he doesn't want that for her. Never for her. 

Maybe he was the selfish one for getting mad at her. Maybe he was selfish for hating knowing she was out there somewhere, all alone, taking justice into her own hands. But is it really selfish of him not wanting to see her getting hurt over something completely preventable? Why would she be out there risking her life when HE could be doing that instead? Did she not realize how much she meant to him?  

He didn't want them to separate, not like this, not right now. But he really didn't feel like continuing this conversation. He was exhausted, his emotions all over the place, a hint of irritation still lingering. He could tell she was tired too. Plus, he still had today's patrol. 

He reluctantly nodded. 

“Yeah...maybe we should. I have to go anyway. We'll talk about this later, okay?” 

She just nodded in response and retreated to their bedroom. Peter stood there for a moment, contemplating his next move. He hesitantly made his way to the door. He didn’t want to go, not really—but a small, guilty part of him was already savoring the thought of the space he'd have once he left. There was a flicker of regret in his eyes as he turned away, quickly replaced by a soft exhale and a lighter step. He hesitated at the threshold, his hand hovering over the doorknob for a moment longer than necessary before finally turning it. As he stepped out, he paused for a moment, as if expecting Y/n to call him back, but when she didn't, his posture eased, and he moved forward with renewed purpose. This is gonna be fun.

Peter soon disappeared into the night, busying himself by fulfilling Spider-Man's duties. He went about with his usual routine, swinging around the most common areas, the sketchiest ones, the streets most accidents happen on. But it was an uncharacteristically quiet night; no supervillains threatening to wipe out NYC, no petty criminals running around causing chaos, no cats on extremely high trees needing saving. 

Someone asked him for directions, so there was that.  

(A man can't even escape his thoughts in peace, smh) 

Hours passed, and it was getting later and later. Frustration, worry, and exhaustion started to catch up with him. He was tired, his body screaming for rest and his heart begging for an end to this whole ordeal. After a couple of hours of killing time by meaninglessly swinging around, Peter decided it was finally time he returned home- to her.  

Peter returned to the apartment, his body tired and aching, frustration still gnawing at his. On his way back he wondered whether or not he'd find her there. She could've gone to a friend's or at her parents’ house to avoid him. She could’ve completely ignored him and left to play vigilante again. He prayed that wasn't the case. Honestly? He half expected her too, if anything just to spite him. 

He quietly entered, not knowing what to expect, but the place was quiet and empty. He scanned the room and the first thing he noticed was the food on the kitchen counter, a silent gesture from her. 

He grumbled to himself, still somewhat irritated by her behavior. But the mere sight of the food, still warm and waiting for him, softened his frustration just a bit. Despite everything, she still cared enough to think about him. 

He walked over to the counter, his stomach rumbling with hunger. He sat at the table, quietly eating the food, his mind still going over the events of the night. He couldn't stop the frustration from bubbling up, but he also couldn't ignore the fact that he was exhausted. The food tasted good, but it didn't do much to satisfy his frustration. He still wanted answers, he still wanted her to stop this nonsense. 

He let out a quiet sigh, the sound echoing in the empty room. He was tired, both physically and emotionally. He knew he needed to sleep, to rest and recharge. 

Peter opened the door to their bedroom and was immediately hit with a wave of surprise. Y/n was asleep in their bed, looking deceptively peaceful. Peter's eyes narrowed as he watched her.  

He wanted to wake her up, to confront her and put an end to this. But seeing her there, asleep and defenseless, made him pause. Peter grumbled internally, torn between his irritation and the sight of her peacefully sleeping in their bed. He knew he should wake her and confront her, but something about seeing her there, so calm and vulnerable, made his anger soften just a little. Instead of waking her up, he opted to sit on the edge of the bed, his eyes watching her as she slept. The frustration was still there, but there was a hint of worry and care underneath it all.  

“Hey, baby. There's food on the kitchen”. Her voice was soft and muffled, more like a murmur than actual speech, as though weighed down by sleep. 

As Y/n spoke in her sleep, Peter's annoyance melted away just a little more. Her sleepy voice was almost endearing, and her concern for his well-being, even in her half-conscious state, touched a softer part of him. 

He let out a soft sigh and ran a hand through his hair, his irritation fading into the background. Seeing her like this reminded him that beneath all the chaos and recklessness, she was still the girl he cared about.  

He couldn't bring himself to wake her up or to confront her right now, especially not when she was in such a vulnerable state. Instead, he sat there, watching her sleep, his mind swirling with a mix of frustration, care, and a bit of tenderness. 

He still had so many questions, and he was still upset about her antics, but for now, he was content to just sit there, listening to her gentle breathing and feeling a strange sense of peace in the room. Tomorrow would be another day for confrontations and discussions. 

Peter sat there for a few more minutes, just watching her sleep. The silence of the room was soothing, and the frustration he felt earlier was slowly fading away. 

With a deep sigh, he finally decided it was time to get some sleep himself. He carefully got up and made his way out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him. 

As he settled into the couch, he couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. He knew he'd have to talk to her again, to get answers and hopefully put an end to her vigilante streak. 

This is bad, she thought. 

Peter's presence –or absence- had woken her up from her already somewhat disrupted sleep. She kept replaying today's events in her head, almost as if she were trying to make herself angrier and more anxious. She didn't like fighting with him. Sure, she didn't agree with him in the slightest and his words angered her to no end, she couldn't deny that she missed him terribly, especially now that she had the whole bed to herself, feeling like it'd swallow her whole. 

Since when does he sleep on the couch, anyway? Why did he get to act immaturely and petty? Why didn't he want to sleep in bed with her? He was the one in the wrong, blowing things out of proportion. 

After staring at the ceiling for God knows how long, she decided she'd just go for it. She could be stubborn; she was certainly not above acting petty after a fight. But she missed him. A lot. She yearned for the warmth of his body, the feeling of his arms around her. She decided pettiness (and the talk they're bound to have) would have to wait until tomorrow morning. 

She pushed the covers aside sluggishly, her arms moving as though weighed down by invisible chains. Her feet slid off the bed and onto the floor, landing with a dull thud, her movements slow and deliberate. She sat at the edge of the bed for a moment, hunched over, before finally shuffling to her feet with a soft groan. She shuffled toward the door, each step a reluctant scrape, the sound faint in the stillness of the room. 

She slowly made her way to the living room. Her eyes immediately landed on Peter's sleeping form on the couch. Without giving herself another moment to think this through, she started walking towards him. 

She carefully climbed on the couch and settled in an awkward position on top of him/ against the back of the couch. It was very uncomfortable but she could manage. What she couldn't manage was Peter-less sleep. 

Peter was pulled out of his half-asleep state by the sudden movement on the couch. He blinked a few times, his vision slowly adjusting to the dim light. 

At first, he was confused. Was he dreaming? But then he felt Y/n's weight on top of him, her awkward positioning making him wince a little. 

He felt a surge of irritation bubble up once again. Seriously? She had the whole bed to herself, why was she cramping up the couch like this? He was about to protest, to tell her to go back to the bed where she would be more comfortable, but something held him back. Maybe it was the softness in her half-sleeping gaze, or the warm weight of her body on top of him. But instead of pushing her aside, he found himself pulling her closer, instinctively wanting to hold and comfort her. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

He let out a resigned sigh, his frustration giving way to a mixture of annoyance, care, and a hint of affection. Peter's eyes widened slightly at her unexpected question. He had been caught off guard by her words, and there was a moment of hesitation on his part. 

But her voice, tinged with vulnerability and hesitation, stirred something within him. Maybe it was the softness of her tone, or the genuine concern underneath the question, but the irritation that had been brewing in him suddenly lost some of its sharpness. 

He let out a long, quiet sigh before whispering back, his voice gentle but firm. 

"Yes, I am." 

They drifted into a quiet pause, the air between them tinged with hesitation. That was until she spoke again in an almost hushed tone. 

“Are you very mad at me?” 

Peter paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady his emotions. Her quiet plea made his chest tighten, his heart conflicted between the lingering irritation and the instinctive need to comfort her. 

"Yes,", he whispered back, his voice softening a bit, "I am very mad at you." 

She hummed softly, acknowledging his response before speaking up once more. 

"Mad enough not to give me a goodnight kiss?" 

Peter couldn't help but feel a small spark of amusement at Y/n's words. Despite everything, despite his frustration, she still knew just how to disarm him with her playfulness. 

After a moment's hesitation, he relented, his voice still soft but with a hint of a smile. 

"I suppose I can manage a goodnight kiss. But then you need to promise you'll go back to your bed." 

"I don't like sleeping without you" 

Peter's heart skipped a beat. He was taken aback by her raw honesty and the vulnerability in her voice. It softened his frustration a bit more, reminding him of the love they shared beneath their disagreements. He let out a sigh, a mixture of annoyance and affection in his voice.  

"Why? Why can't you just... behave and make things easier for both of us?" 

That was... *not* what she expected to hear. She suddenly felt very awake, like a bucket of freezing cold water was dumped over her. It made sense that Peter wouldn't ignore the problem at hand just to let her cuddle with him in peace. Did she like it? No, not really. But that's Pete for you. Always wanting to do things right and always in proper order. 

But she was really not in the mood for that. Feeling rejected didn't help either. It was a quiet devastation, not loud or dramatic, but a slow, persistent ache she couldn’t ignore. The heat crept up her neck and into her face, her body betraying the humiliation she tried to suppress. Guess she won't be getting that goodnight kiss after all. 

She got off him just as quickly and awkwardly as she had previously climbed on top of him (she may or may not tried to discreetly knee him in the process). 

“You came here because you needed space. I need to respect that. I'll leave you alone", she said quietly as she got up from the couch. 

"Goodnight, Peter", she mumbled without giving him the chance to respond before walking back to their room with her head hung low, her shoulders slumped. 

Peter watched her walk away, her dejected expression pulling at his heartstrings. He wanted to call out to her, to tell her not to go, but another part of him wanted space to think, to process everything. It was all just too much too quickly. 

With a heavy sigh, he leaned back on the couch. The night was still young, and there were so many thoughts swirling in his mind. He needed time to sort through his feelings, to figure out what to say to her when they talked. 

While Peter was busy staring at the ceiling and gathering his thoughts, Y/n was pacing back and forth in their shared room. She was feeling anxious.  

She knew her participation in any superhero related activity -let alone playing hero all on her own, in NYC of all places- wouldn't really appeal to Peter. 

She knew that, yet she did it anyway. She wanted to help, she knew she could help, so she did. Turns out all that training really paid off. She did good, if she said so herself. Criminals were caught, civilians were safe, the press was eating it up. It was a win in her books. 

Despite all that, she couldn't ignore how her actions affected Peter. He seemed pretty pissed off. And him being that mad at her wasn't a common occurrence, like at all. 

She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. She was too emotional for that right now. Would they bounce back from this? Was he... done? Done with her? With them? She started giving through his closet, trying to find something to wear. She needed comfort, and if Peter wasn't about to provide that, his clothes would have to do. 

In true teenage girl fashion, she put on some sweatpants and one of Peter's hoodies. She put some sad, break up songs -Taylor Swift most likely- playing softly in the background, as she pulled her laptop and played a Star Wars movie, Peter's favorite. She was very well aware of how ridiculous she was being. But she really couldn't find it in herself to care. She was allowed to wallow in self-pity if she wanted to.  

As the movie started, her eyes began to tear up. She started thinking back to the day they first met, when they got together, when they moved into this house, essentially making herself cry more. What if this was their end? 

She didn't know what possessed her to act like this. Maybe it was the crippling fear that he'd break up with her. Maybe he was done with her. Maybe that's what tomorrow's conversation would bring. Because why on Earth would he want to sleep on the couch -without even giving her a goodnight kiss-, if he wasn't planning on breaking up with her? 

She cried even harder. 

Lost in his thoughts, Peter was startled when he heard a soft sniffling sound coming from the room he shared with Y/n (what a great day to have paper-thin walls!). Instantly, his irritation vanished, replaced by a sense of worry and concern. 

Was she crying? Was she upset? He couldn't bear to see her in distress, especially if he was the cause of it. And though part of him was still angry, the other just couldn't stand by and let her suffer. 

Silently, he got up from the couch and made his way to the bedroom door. 

Peter gently opened the door, trying not to make a sound. The sight that greeted him hit him hard. Y/n, dressed in his hoodie and sweatpants, sitting on their bed with her laptop in her lap, the screen lit up by the familiar glow of the original Star Wars trilogy playing. It was both sweet and heartbreaking. 

Tears were streaming down her face, and her small sobs filled the room. Peter could feel his heart cracking, torn between his lingering anger and his overwhelming love for her. He stood there for a moment, frozen, until the sight of her broke the last shred of his resolve. 

Peter moved forward slowly; his steps gentle yet firm. He approached her with care, as though she were made of fragile glass.  

“I could hear you from the living room” 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up... I'll keep it down” 

"No, no," he murmured, sitting beside her.  

"You don't need to apologize. I just...I just can't stand seeing you upset.", he reached out to brush the tears off her cheeks, his touch gentle and comforting. 

Tears spilled freely down her face as she leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand against her cheek softening the jagged edges of her emotions. Her shoulders trembled with quiet sobs, each one a wordless apology for the harshness of the argument that still lingered in the air. And yet, she didn’t pull away—instead, she melted into the comfort, clinging to the embrace as if it was the only thing keeping her from breaking completely. The touch was steady, almost forgiving, and despite the ache between them, it felt like a fragile truce beginning to take shape. 

"I don't want us to break up", she blurted out suddenly. 

Peter blinked in surprise. He was taken aback by her sudden outburst. It hadn't even crossed his mind that they would break up.  

"What? No, of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?" 

He pulled her gently into his lap, his arms wrapping around her in a protective embrace. In return, she clung onto him and cried in his shirt. 

"I'm sorry. I really don't want us to break up. Ever. I hate it when you're mad at me. I don't want to lose you, Peter. You mean so much to me, I don't-" 

Peter held onto her tighter, his heart aching at her outpouring of distress and love. 

"Y/n, angel, listen to me," he said, his voice a calm and gentle assurance in the storm of emotions. "We're not breaking up. Not now, not ever. I love you. Mad, not mad, I love you. Do you understand what I'm saying? This is not a fleeting thing. This is us. Together. Forever." 

"I'm sorry for worrying you. I just wanted to do the right thing. I just wanted to help; I promise that's all I was trying to do. You're so busy and overworked and don't even complain because you're such a great person and I just wanted to help you and do something good for the world, too. I'm so sorry for making you worried. I didn't mean for things to come to this. I'm sorry, Peter. I'm so sorry-" 

She cried even harder in his arms, making Peter's heart shatter at her tear-filled confession. He held her closer, feeling every word as if it weighed a thousand pounds. 

"Shhhhh, shhh," he whispered, trying to soothe her. "You don't have to be sorry for wanting to help, Y/n. That's who you are. That's one of the reasons I fell in love with you. But there are other ways. Safer ways. We'll find them. Together. But I need you to promise, to actually promise me, that you won't do that again, that you won't go out risking your life again." 

She pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, her own still filled with tears. 

"Peter..." 

She shook her head. Her tone was quiet and soft, almost a desperate plea.  

Peter's heart clenched tightly in his chest again as she pulled back to face him. Seeing her tear-stricken expression, his resolve nearly faltered. But he steeled himself, knowing this conversation needed to happen.  

"I need to hear you promise, Y/n," he repeated firmly, his tone unwavering, "promise you won't do this again. Promise me right now, or I promise you we're done." 

His words hung heavy in the air, laden with the weight of their love and their future together. Suddenly, she started feeling slightly lightheaded. Did he just-? No, he wouldn't...would he? But he just said- 

"W-what? You can't be serious”  

“I'm sorry, Y/n, but you have to choose” 

As the gravity of what he had just said sunk in, Peter felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Had he really just threatened to end their relationship if she refused to comply? He loved this girl with all his heart, yet here he was, holding their relationship hostage like some sort of bargaining chip. 

He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving hers. He needed her to know he was serious. But he also needed her to understand this was for their own good. For her safety. For their future. 

"Y/n," he said softly, but firmly, "promise me." 

"But you just- you just said this isn't a fleeting thing. That we are in this together. You just said-", her voice broke and a fresh set of tears ran down her cheeks. 

"And I meant it. I meant every word. But..." Peter paused, his gaze still fixed on her tear-streaked face. "But I can't watch you put yourself in danger like this. I can't stand idly by, watching you risk your life, your future, your everything just to prove a point. I can't promise you my undying love and then stand idly by and watch you throw it away. This isn't some game, Y/n. It's real life. And in real life, people get hurt. People get killed." 

"No. You don't understand. I'm always very careful. I follow protocol. I do everything right-"  

The words came out uneven, trembling as if her emotions were fighting their way through every syllable. Each word seemed to catch in her throat, rasping and shaking as she struggled to speak through the tears. 

"This isn't fair. You can't do this. Peter, you can't-", her own sobs prevented her from speaking. The hesitation in her voice mirrored the vulnerability in her eyes, wavering as though afraid to break completely. 

“No, Y/n, it's not fair!" Peter retorted, his emotions boiling over. "It's not fair that I have to sit here, worrying about you every second of every day. It's not fair that you get to waltz into a dangerous situation, risking everything, and leave me here wondering if I'm ever going you to see you again. That is not fair. But it's the reality of who we are. And I can't watch you do this to yourself, to me, to us." 

After he spoke the room fell silent. All that could be heard was the heaviness of Peter's breathing and Y/n's soft sniffles. 

“Would you do it?” 

“Would I do what?” 

"Would you quit being Spider-Man if I asked you to?", her voice barely above a whisper. 

"Wh-what?" Peter blinked, completely taken aback by Y/n's sudden question. It felt like a punch to the gut, the very thought of giving up being Spider-Man. It was a part of him, just as much as the love he had for her, and he couldn't imagine living a life without it. 

"Why would you-? No, Y/n," he sputtered, the words stumbling out before he could stop himself. "It's not the same. What I do, it's different. I have powers. I have responsibilities-" 

"Okay, then.” 

There was a hint of disappointment and an even bigger hint of finality in the way she said it. That was all she said. Such small and insignificant words, but in that moment, it could potentially signify the end of an era, the end of their era. 

The silence that followed was stifling, the weight of Y/n's words hanging heavily in the air. Peter stared at her, his heart in his throat. This couldn't be it, could it? After everything they had been through, was this really how it would end? 

"No. Y/n, you can't-" Peter's voice broke, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You can't possibly want me to choose between you and my duty as Spider-Man. It's...it's not a fair choice. It's not fair to ask me to give up-" 

“I'm not. I was just... wondering if you'd do the very same thing you're asking me to do”, she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.  

Peter's heart clenched as he watched the tears stream down her cheeks. The realization of what he had done hit him like a ton of bricks. Had he really just demanded she choose between her desire to help and her love for him? Had he really just issued an ultimatum that threatened their entire relationship?  

His shoulders slumped, his resolve suddenly shattered. 

"I...I didn't mean..." He stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of his mistake. "Y/n, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I'm-" 

"At least you won't have to deal with my recklessness anymore", she chuckled bitterly, her tone only half joking. Her voice was quiet and tired as a result of all the crying. 

She really didn't want their relationship to end, especially not like this. Maybe if she took a moment to calm down (if only she could just close her eyes for a minute) she'd see they were both overreacting. They both had their point. Maybe they could even hug it out. That could work, right? It works for kindergarteners; it could work for them, too. But in her emotional and restless state all she could think about was one upping him, making him feel guilty for ever threatening to end things. 

Peter's heart cracked at Y/n's half-hearted attempt at humor. He knew he had a lot of apologizing to do, but right now all he wanted to do was make it right. He didn't want to lose her. He couldn't even begin to imagine a life without her.  

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, his Spidey-Sense suddenly flared, causing him to freeze mid-breath. "Hang on," he interrupted, his brow furrowed in concentration, his senses now fully alert. He stood silently, focusing on the signals his Spidey-Sense was sending him. Something was off, something was wrong. 

His eyes darted around the room, his attention flicking to the window. Was that... movement? A shadow? A flicker of something out of the ordinary. Y/n's eyes followed Peter's line of sight on the window behind them, noticing something. Before she had the time to let Peter know, the object she noticed was already on its way to their room.  

Acting purely on instinct, in a fragment of a second, she had pushed Peter off the bed, and fell on top of him, concealing him from whatever was going to burst through the window.  

Peter's Spider-Sense blared again, a split second later than it would have been if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own emotions. 

The force of the blast sent a wave of debris and smoke swirling through the apartment. Glass shattered around them, raining down like sharp, shiny confetti. 

The rush of adrenaline barely let her register the feeling of glass breaking her skin. Peter's eyes widened as he realized what was happening. Y/n had flung herself on top of him, shielding him from the impending explosion. He tried to push her off him, his strength kicking in, knowing he could withstand the blast. 

But it was too late. The shockwave of the blast hit them, sending them crashing against a nearby wall. Peter instinctively wrapped his arms around Y/n, trying to protect her as much as he could. The explosion was deafening, the pain momentarily blinding.  

Once the dust began to settle, Peter slowly let go of Y/n, trying to catch his bearings. Peter's eyes darted around the destroyed room, trying to assess the damage. The devastation was staggering — shattered windows, smoke filling the room, debris everywhere. But his focus was on Y/n; the only thing that mattered right now. 

He gently grasped her shoulders, pulling her towards him, trying to assess her injuries. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice shaky with worry. "Please, please tell me you're okay." 

She barely noticed the sharp ache on her side or the warmth of blood trickling down her temple as she looked over the charred remains of what had once been their home. Her eyes stayed fixed on the crumbled remains of their house, where years of memories now lay in twisted, blackened ruins. The faint ache in her ribs with each breath was nothing compared to the hollow thud in her chest as she stared at the space that had once been their home.  

Her breathing was shallow, ragged—not from exertion, but from the weight of what she’d lost. Every step sent a jolt of agony through her body, but she ignored it, her focus locked on the blackened timbers and ashes that used to hold their memories, their life. What was a little pain compared to this? 

Peter's grip on her shoulders tightened slightly, his fingers digging into her flesh. "Y/n, look at me," he demanded, his voice firm. "Look at me and tell me you're okay." 

He needed to know she was alright. He couldn't handle the alternative. The thought of losing her was more terrifying than any explosion or villain. 

"Pete, our home. It's... it's gone” 

Her words stumbled out, disjointed and hollow, as if her mind was still scrambling to catch up. ““The picture wall, the stupid chemistry pun posters... they're all... gone.” Her mouth hung slightly open, her voice barely above a whisper, like she couldn’t trust the weight of her own thoughts. Every sentence felt like a question, her tone wavering between incredulity and desperate denial, as if speaking it aloud might somehow undo the reality before them.  

Peter's heart ached at her words. The thought of everything they had built together being destroyed was almost too much to bear. But right now, the only thing that mattered was Y/n. 

He took a deep breath, pushing aside his own emotions.  

"It's just stuff, Y/n. Things. We can get new stuff. None of it matters as long as you're okay." 

“But it won't be *our* stuff” 

Peter's heart broke at her words. She was right. Nothing could replace the sentimental value of their shared belongings — their collective memories and shared experiences. But he had to remain strong for her. He couldn't afford to break down when she needed him. 

"We'll make new memories. Better memories. I promise," he said softly, his hands still on her shoulders. "We'll find a new place, and we'll make it ours. It'll be even better than before. You have to trust me." 

"Trust you? You just broke up with me!”, her tone was almost accusing as tears began running down her face. 

Peter's heart felt like it was tearing in two as the words left Y/n's lips. He hadn't meant it, he *never* would have meant it. He only wanted to protect her, to keep her safe. But he realized his own fear and anxiety had caused him to make a mistake, a terrible mistake. 

"Y/n, baby, please," he pleaded. "It wasn't real. I was scared. I was worried about you going out and putting yourself in danger. I... I panicked. Please, you have to know... I love you." 

"You have a funny way of showing people you love them", she muttered sarcastically under her breath. “Anyway, is that supposed to make me feel better? You gave me an ultimatum, we kinda broke up and an explosive device literally demolishes our home". Angry tears were running down her face. 

"What is going on today? And you were mad because what? Because I risked my life? NEWS FLASH, PETER. THAT'S WHAT YOU DO ALL THE GODDAMN TIME. But I TRUST you and BELIEVE in your need to contribute to the greater good"  

"And I'd never- ah, fuck", she hissed and pressed down on her side 

Peter's eyes widened. Immediately, all other thoughts faded into the background. He quickly moved to her side, lifting up her shirt to assess the damage. His eyes fell on a nasty cut on her side, blood slowly seeping out.  

"You're bleeding," Peter said, his voice trembling with panic. "Why the hell didn't you say something earlier?" 

"Because I was in need of a red shirt- obviously I didn't know!"  

Her tone sounded sarcastic and frustrated; a hint of fear mixed in there as well. 

Peter huffed, feeling an emotional whirlwind. Mainly relief and the tiniest bit of irritation. Of course, she couldn't resist a snarky comment even in a crisis. 

"Right, because bleeding is the current trend," he quipped, trying to match her tone. "Red's not really your color, by the way. You're more of an orange gal." 

He couldn't help but feel a hint of affection towards her, even as he berated her. 

“Parker, I swear to God, if you don't zip it right now, I'll make you regret ever asking me out on that first date” 

Peter paused for a moment, caught off guard by her comment as it reminded him how he just threatened his lovely girlfriend -who he's madly in love with and would literally die for- he'd break up with her if she didn't stop doing something she loves. Her words sent a jolt of guilt through him; he could hear the hurt in her voice, and he knew he was the cause of it. 

He shook his head, pushing the weight of his mistake to the side for now. Y/n was bleeding, and that was his first priority. He would deal with the fallout of his ultimatum later.  

"Hang on," he said softly, gently lifting her up. "We need to stop the bleeding. Then we'll talk." 

He gently wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her weight as they made their way to what was left of the kitchen. The sink miraculously survived the explosion, and he helped her lean against it. Grabbing a clean cloth, he ran it under the faucet, wetting it.  

"This might hurt," he warned, gently pressing the cloth to her wound. 

“I'm not talking to you”, she said almost right away. 

Peter paused at Melina's response. Her voice was laced with frustration, and he couldn't blame her. He had screwed up, big time. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. She was being stubborn, and he knew she had every right to be. 

"Look, I get it. You don't want to hear from me right now. I messed up, and I know that," he said softly, his gaze fixed on her. "But you're bleeding. I have to help you. Please, let me help you. Then you can go back to giving me the silent treatment if you want, okay? Plus, you don't have to talk. I'll do all the talking. Just let me patch you up, okay?" 

His voice was gentle, the frustration and anger from earlier having faded into the background. He knew that making things right with Y/n was going to take more than just words. It was going to take action. 

"I don't want to hear you talk either", she mumbled childishly. 

Peter raised an eyebrow at her petulant response. He had no doubt she wasn't in the mood to engage in conversation right now, but he refused to let her bleed out on her own floor because she was mad at him. He had to patch her up.  

He exhaled softly, gathering a bundle of supplies from a nearby first-aid kit. 

"You know, you're adorable when you're angry," he commented, unable to help himself. He started carefully cleaning the wound, his hands moving with precision and care. 

"And you're still talking" 

He couldn't help but smile at her stubbornness. He had truly fallen for a strong, independent woman. "Sorry, I just can't resist when my girlfriend's bleeding and fuming. It's a dangerous combination." 

He carefully began stitching up her wound, his hands steady and sure. "Just remember, a little bit of anger and banter make for the best love stories. We might be the next big blockbuster, with how dramatic we are." 

“Ex girlfriend", she corrected with an eye roll at the irony of it all. 

"And no love story for us. You can pursue your romance with the Becky from down the street now", she said grumpily, the thought alone tugging at her heartstrings 

Peter let out a sigh of exasperation at Y/n's correction. He knew he had made a mistake, and it hurt to see her refer to herself as his ex-girlfriend, but for now, her cut had his full attention. He couldn't get sidetracked. 

"You're right, I'm sorry. But you know, we could be the next enemies to lovers, if you play your cards right. A little banter, a little fighting, and then some dramatic make-up scene. The audience will love it." 

He finished stitching up her wound, his touch gentle despite his words. 

She wanted to stay mad at him, she really did. But it was hard to when he was making silly little comments like these. A small smile made its way to her face but she quickly bit down on her lip to stop herself before he saw and got cocky about it. 

Peter's keen Spidey senses picked up on the shift in her demeanor. He caught the subtle smile she tried to hide, and it warmed his heart. 

"Oh, is that a smile I see?" He said in a teasing tone. "I knew my charm would get to you eventually. Just imagine, if you're already smiling after breaking up, what could happen if we make up? The world might just explode from our awesomeness." 

"No one's smiling, you must've hit your head" 

Peter chuckled at her quick defense of her smile. He finished applying an antiseptic to the wound and gently covered it with a clean bandage.  

"Right, of course, I'm just seeing things," he replied with a playful wink. "But hey, if I did hit my head, maybe I'm having a vivid dream where you and I are the star-crossed lovers in the epic love story that is our lives. And you know what that means, right?" 

He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Wake me up with a kiss, Melina." 

"That was the corniest thing I've ever heard. Plus, I have this rule of not kissing ex boyfriends, sorry" 

"You're really gonna play hard to get?", Peter countered, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, I guess I'll just have to win you back then. I've defeated villains and battled super-powered monsters. Winning your heart back can't be much harder, right?" 

He stood up, helping her up as he did so. He couldn't resist pulling her towards him, his hands lightly settling on her hips. "And just so you know, I'm a great kisser." 

"Really? You'd think I would know, considering we spent the last four years of our lives together" 

"Touché. But you know what they say, practice makes perfect. Maybe I should give you a refresher. After all, I can't have you going around thinking I'm a bad kisser, can I?" 

He gently brushed a lock of hair away from her face, his gaze filled with affection. 

"So what do you say? For old time's sake?" 

"Old time being... yesterday?" 

Peter shrugged with a sheepish grin. "Well, technically yes, but you know what I meant. Besides, yesterday was a lifetime ago. We've had an explosion, a break-up, and a reunion. That's a lot more than most couples experience in a lifetime." 

He paused for a moment, a genuine warmth seeping into his voice. 

"In all seriousness, Y/n, I messed up. I've regretted it this entire time. I'm so sorry. Please give me another chance to prove it. To prove that we're... perfect together." 

“ ‘This entire time’ being...what? Thirty minutes?"*she said with a snort of amusement. 

Peter chuckled, his smile widening. "Alright, alright, I get it. We can't all be as patient as you with our ex-boyfriends. But seriously, Y/n, I mean it. I regret what I said. I was scared, and I made a mistake." 

He paused for a moment, his gaze growing serious. "I love you. I want you. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to win back your trust and heart." 

He took her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "Can we... just start over? Please?" 

She pulled her hand away from his and just stood there, watching him for a moment. After a bit she extended her arm towards him and introduced herself. 

"Y/n Stark", she said with the tiniest of smiles evident on her lips. 

“Who's being corny now?”, he rolled his eyes in a playful manner before wrapping his hand around hers, savoring the feel of her skin against his. 

"Y/n Stark," Peter echoed, his voice soft with affection "It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/n Stark. I'm Peter Parker. But you can call me anytime." 

With that, he gently pulled her closer, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek. He leaned in, his lips gently brushing against hers, sealing their newfound beginning with a tender, heartfelt kiss. She laughed softly against his lips, the pickup line catching her off guard. Peter couldn't ignore the fluttering in his chest as her laughter met his lips. The sound was like music to his ears, and he deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist. 

Pulling away slightly, he whispered in her ear, "Did that meet your witty standards, Miss Stark?" 

"I'll let it slide", she said with a serious expression, nodding slightly before a smile made its way on her face again. 

Peter grinned, his eyes sparkling with adoration. "Only let it slide? I'll have to step up my game, then. How about this?" 

He leaned in again, his voice a low murmur against her lips. "I swear I'll be your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man if you let me swing by your place every night." 

She snorted in amusement “That was so bad” 

“Was it now?” With that, he captured her lips in a kiss, expressing the depth of his feelings for her with each lingering moment. 

Their lips met softly, tenderly, as if every touch was a gentle reminder of how much they meant to each other. It was unhurried, each moment lingering with the quiet depth of love that words could never capture. There was no urgency, only a profound warmth, a silent apology woven into the way their hands cupped each other’s faces. The kiss held forgiveness, not as a plea, but as a gift, an unspoken promise that they were ready to move forward together. It wasn’t just an expression of love—it was a vow, a renewal of everything they’d shared and everything they still hoped to build. 

After a bit, they pulled away to catch their breath.  

“So, we're together again?”, she asked playfully. 

He looked at her, his eyes sparkling with amusement as before he softly kissed her forehead "Please, we were never not together” 

With that, they fell in silence. 

The silence wrapped around them like a soft blanket, warm and steady, filling the spaces where words weren’t needed. It wasn’t heavy or awkward but gentle, a quiet acknowledgment of shared understanding. The only sounds were the subtle rhythm of their breathing and the faint rustle of the world outside, creating a calm that felt almost sacred. In that stillness, there was no need to explain, no need to fill the air with chatter—it was enough just to be there, side by side, letting the silence speak what their hearts already knew. 

“Are we going to ignore the fact that we're homeless?” 

A small chuckle left Peter's lips as he pulled her closer. 

"You always have to ruin the mood”, he said jokingly, “We'll figure it out, baby. Just you and me. And your dad. We should probably call him and beg him to let us crash because we're kind of screwed otherwise”  

[tfp-is-my-lifeblood-lol]

Reasons Why I Think TFP Jack is Underrated:

Welcome to my organized bullet list of why I think Jack is cool. I used to think he was boring too, but now I think he's the goat and here's why:

-He has Main Character Energy, but he's more snarky than most cliche main characters

In fact, he is a petty king:

-He doesn't wanna be on Team Prime at first, but eventually accepts it...

...He then proceeds to BURN Airachnid's ship to the GROUND with a stupid survival kit for babies

-HE DEFEATED THE ALIEN SPIDER QUEEN WITH NOTHING BUT A LIGHTER AND A POCKET KNIFE, BRO

-HE WAS DONE WITH HER BULLSHIT LOL

-Plus he tricked Silas by pretending to beg for mercy, when really, he was stealing his walkie talkie.

-Jack is boring, BUT the fact that Jack has nothing special about him IS his superpower; Miko has the Apex Armor and her brave personality, Raf has genius level computer smarts, and Jack has PURE SPITE. It's beautiful.

-He has zero skills, but he'll figure out how to defeat his enemies anyway, SOLEY because he's tired and doesn't get paid enough for this shit.

-For example, in one of the Titan Magazine comics, Jack literally kicks Silus in the balls

Evidence:

Iconic✨

Apex armor? Cybertronian technology?

Screw that. How about I KICK you in the balls?l

-A true legend

-He's also a mess though, and I relate so hard

-He's so petty he talked two aliens into helping him cheat at street racing to piss off his classmate

-His romantic subplot is treated like a complete joke, and I love that. Normally, the Main Character✨ is awkward, but gets the girl in the end. Not Jack, though. Nope. He just constantly looks stupid in front of Sierra, nothing ever happens between them, and Arcee is just watching with popcorn as his life falls apart. It's hilarious.

Also, if I'm correct, isn't the last time we see Sierra when she sees Arcee's homoform, and thinks Jack has a girlfriend, and then Jack is like "She's my mom😅." And Sierra's all like: "Your mom looks good in leather😐...on your bike😐😐😐😐..." Maybe I'm wrong, but if that's the case, it's funny. Jack is a simp and it gets him nowhere.

-His sarcasm works perfectly with Arcee's sarcastic attitude.

-Also Tailgate is voiced by Josh Keaton (Jack's voice actor) in the flashbacks, so I headcanon that Jack reminds Arcee of Tailgate, and that's why she has such a soft spot for him.

Tailgate and Arcee's dialogue had the same vibe as her and Jack's

Also, it gives more context to why she was so scared to lose him when Airachnid showed up. It would've literally been like losing Tailgate all over again.

-Jack is Team Prime's designated Good Ideas Guy

It was Jack's idea to hijack the spacebridge to send him to Cybertron

It was also his idea to drain the dark energon out of The Nemesis when it came alive and froze everyone

-I'm probably just projecting, he has generalized anxiety disorder vibes

-I feel like he prefers a comfortable, predictable life because he gets nervous easily

-He's always the first to freak out, and overthink, and Arcee always has to calm him down

-And she's so patient with him it's so sweet😱

-I agree the writing behind his existence is meh, and a lot of the cool stuff about him is probably unintentional, but I don't care, so take that!

Anyway, the moral of the story is:

Jack is just an angry little harmonica boy. Leave him alone. He's trying his best😭

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

[creatingblackcharacters]

So! I've been working on some of my old drafts of a story I came up with and saw the villian was Black- half the main cast is POC but im still worried about the implications

Basically he was taken in to be the big bads son I don't remember what happened to his parents it's been too long and I didnt write that down.

The big bad is trying to create an army of superpowered kids who can do crimes for her without the fear of getting caught. He was the first because she figured a kid that sees her as a mother and "owes'' her for adopting him would be more likely to not betray her

In the end he doesnt get the powers and because his whole lifes been leading up to getting them and finally being able to ''repay" his mom he goes through a crisis that led to him using an expiremental formula and lashing out against the main cast for "stealing" his lifes purpose

I don't like calling him a villian in the beginning he seems like one but after his backstory comes out the other main characters would help him cause his backstory is intentionally similar to two of the others.

The fact he's Black isn't a factor in any of my writing choices but how this may come across worries me. Wanted to run this by you because I can't tell if I'm overthinking or not.

Ty have a good day/night! Sorry if you've already talked about something similar to this I'm making my way through lessons really slowly-

Sounds like he could be really interesting! You might be interested in reading Raybearer by Jordan Ifueko; it's not the same exact premise, but similar enough in terms of the child of the big bad having their own journey.

And I know you said you're getting through my lessons slowly, but my recent lesson does have a list of questions you could ask yourself when writing this character to self reflect on your motivations behind them, helping to better direct your intentions.

[marvelshifter111]

I just tried to shift really quickly cuz i thought this could fuck up my overthinking.

So i was in the bathroom trying to like get my motivation up and i was like "the moment i get in the living room i will wake up in my DR"

And my intention was so fucking strong like i literally felt symptoms all around my body. And the moment i get out of the bathroom my brother goes up to me and asks me something and my whole intention just flew out of the window. Obviously i didn't shift when i got in the living room but the amount of shifting symptoms i felt was really motivating.

This is so fucking funny to me for some reason and i apologize for ranting so much in the last few days, I'll post the chaos magic superpower pack soon ❤️

[vynegar]

vyn 5th birthday ssr, part four

how well do you remember vyn's previous cards?

same disclaimers from part one (note the extra one from usual, regarding story content)

youtube link to ShiroNaya’s video of the card story

links to previous parts: one two three

more tot stuff here

do not repost

[PART FOUR]

[36:58] Home

Vyn: Never could I have imagined that twice would I interact with him, and twice would I be injured by him.

I peered at Vyn’s profile. Although I couldn’t see any traces of what happened back then, his narration still made me shiver.

Vyn: …

Just as Vyn said, there was nothing to criticize about his actions. Then why was Zheng Yan so adamantly convinced that he was innocent, and why did he hold such profound hatred toward Vyn? Each side of the story was weighed on opposite ends of a scale, one consisting of years of suffering and anguish, the other of professional conduct and integrity of character.

Vyn: Regardless of how you see it, it would be absurd for Zheng Yan to decide to kill himself because of baseless slander. You have experience with criminal suspects, and I have also been in this field for years… yet neither of us has seen any indication that he is lying. If he truly has such mental fortitude, then I would not have seen through his mental state so easily back then.

Vyn seemed to be hinting toward a more complicated explanation.

MC: So what are you saying?

Vyn: What if there is another possibility? That he is not lying at all…

MC: I don’t understand. There’s only ever one “truth” to a matter. Even if you look at it from a different perspective, it can’t become something entirely opposite.

Vyn: That is correct. However, what if he also believes that his memories are true? From a psychological perspective, memories are not fixed. They are merely illusions fabricated by the brain.

Vyn lightly tapped his knuckles against the table, the absentminded repetition indicating he was deep in thought. The fact that I was able to read his emotions through such a subtle gesture was probably a “superpower” I had gained after being with Vyn for so long.

Vyn: Memory formation involves the strength and type of synaptic connection between neurons, which can be altered through learning and experience. Theoretically, interfering with these synaptic connections would affect the re-encoding and stability of memories, enabling someone to modify or even implant them. There are experiments proving its feasibility, especially since Zheng Yan is extremely psychologically unstable and likely has PTSD. The brain seeks to avoid suffering, so when it encounters a potential trigger for a painful memory, it becomes easier to manipulate.

MC: That’s so scary. We can’t even trust our own memories…

Vyn: Exactly. If these techniques are applied to humans, it would bring up ethical and social concerns, which is why most of this is still in the experimental stage.

MC: Then if that’s the case…

The night was dead silent. A chill ran up my spine, sharply tingling my every nerve.

MC: There was no way Zheng Yan could have tampered with his own memories.

Vyn: Right. There must be a third party involved, who is highly likely to be the true mastermind behind this.

MC: Who could it be?

I pressed on with my questioning, but Vyn shook his head with a bitter smile.

Vyn: I am only guessing here, I have no concrete evidence. This is an imaginary third party of unknown origin.

Vyn sighed. Ever since this incident had happened, he had been sighing an awful lot, though never for himself.

Vyn: I hope I am just overthinking things… Perhaps Zheng Yan really is a fool, intent on destroying himself like a moth to a flame.

He turned subtly toward the distance, where several insects were flying recklessly near the lamp on the windowsill. They seemed tireless in the night, but come morning they would all be dust on the lamp’s filament, gone at the slightest gust of wind.

Vyn: At least that way, he would be punished by the law instead of becoming a weapon in someone else’s scheme.

[...]

[40:18]

MC: Ugh… Is it… raining?

The night deepened. Perhaps because I had too much weighing on my mind, I ended up dozing off on the couch.

Hearing the pitter-patter of water made me realize that the window was still open, and I bolted upright.

MC: (Sounds like it’s coming from the bathroom.)

Vyn wasn’t here. Just as I was about to go investigate the noise, he walked over to me from the darkness.

Vyn: Why are you awake?

His hair was still dripping, soaking the collar of his shirt. Water droplets rolled steadily down the sides of his face, making it look like he had been out in the rain.

MC: You weren’t there, so I couldn’t stay sleep.

Vyn: I was just washing my face to refresh myself.

It was already past midnight, far past Vyn’s usual bedtime, which likely aggravated his already-unpleasant mood. His wet bangs drooped down on his forehead, making his unspoken emotions even more inscrutable.

MC: Trouble sleeping?

Vyn: Yes. I know this is my overthinking, but every time I close my eyes, I see Zheng Yan’s expression when he was holding the knife. He is in so much pain and despair, all because of me.

MC: That’s not true…

It was obvious that Vyn blamed himself. I protested almost reflexively, fearing he truly believed it.

Vyn: I understand your reasoning, but one’s position determines what they can see. What if I really had made an error when using psychology to interrogate him? That was the first time I had put it into practice. What if I had actually made some mistake, which caused a misunderstanding and led to his obsession?

MC: Vyn… that’s not possible.

Vyn: You were not there. How can you be so sure?

I found a towel and started to carefully dry his hair. Earlier he said that he would quietly wait for my judgment, but how could I just sit by and watch him doubt himself?

MC: Because countless times I’ve seen you use your professional knowledge to crack cases that no one else can... And on top of that, you always prioritize your patients’ health and safety over your own.

One or two times could be faked, but for this many years…

Vyn: MC…

Vyn’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, murmuring my name without forming full words.

MC: And if you really were the kind of person he said you are, if there was a chance that you really did make a mistake that caused this misunderstanding… then you wouldn’t have become the Dr. Richter, Professor Richter, and Vyn that you are today, and that I love dearly. It’s exactly because you’re such a good person that Zheng Yan would think of this plan. You’re always trying to prioritize others over yourself, but without evidence, how could Zheng Yan have been convicted? I believe in the fairness of the law, and I believe in you.

Whether I was considering the current situation or my understanding of him from these past years, Vyn was deserving of my trust. I was all-in, and wholeheartedly placed all of my weights on his end of the scale.

Vyn: …

Vyn gripped my hand. His palm was burning, the roiling emotions seeming like they might drown us both.

MC: Don’t doubt yourself, okay?

There were so many suspicious things about Zheng Yan, but Vyn was accustomed to looking to himself as the potential cause of an issue. That same exact Vyn was currently being condemned by the public online. Fate was so unfair; it always tormented the kindhearted.

I wanted to continue, but was interrupted by my phone vibrating.

Vyn: …

MC: Eirik?

The incoming call notification shocked me, but I quickly came to my senses. Vyn had his phone on mute, so when Eirik couldn’t reach him, he may have thought Vyn was refusing to answer his calls. If he was insistent on contacting Vyn despite that, then it had to be important.

MC: Should I pick up?

Although the phone was vibrating at a constant frequency, I felt like it was increasing in volume, urging us to decide immediately. Vyn’s eyes darkened as he looked at the name on the screen. He fell into thought again, for a while not responding to me. The caller, meanwhile, was persistent, waiting patiently for us.

Vyn: MC, do you remember when I said I had no evidence?

Vyn resolutely hung up the call, then looked up at me.

Vyn: We do now.

There was a seven hour time difference between Stellis and Svart; Eirik must have tried to contact Vyn shortly after waking up. I thought about his persistence despite him knowing how Vyn hated it when he contacted me, combined with the timing – because even from such a distance, Eirik had the means to be updated on everything happening in Stellis. This was too perfect to be a coincidence, therefore he must have called because of Zheng Yan.

MC: Are you saying this situation with Zheng Yan has something to do with Svart?

Vyn: To be precise, it has to do with my father. Of course, anything involving Svart also involves him…

Despite his derision, Vyn’s expression relaxed considerably.

Vyn: He must be calling to tell me who is manipulating Zheng Yan into doing all of this.

I nodded. That did seem to be the most likely answer.

MC: So do you already know who it is…?

Vyn: It is a political opponent of my father.

Despite not picking up Eirik’s call, Vyn’s tone was certain. He must have had some other basis for his conclusion, but he didn’t explain and I didn’t ask.

MC: So does this mean Zheng Yan was sent by that person to ruin you? But why? You’ve been in Stellis for so long, so why would they think to do something now…?

Vyn: It was because of last year’s Appointment Ceremony. Originally, I was staying in Stellis all these years, having less and less contact with Svart over time. They no longer saw me as a threat. The Appointment Ceremony my father held for me, however, put me back on their radar. Attacking the heir of the Haspran family is no different from attacking the head of the Haspran family himself.

I had experienced the cruelty of Svart numerous times before, but each time I became implicated, that feeling of powerlessness would return even stronger than before.

Vyn: After all, when it comes to politics, a ruined reputation is what constitutes true elimination.

MC: So that’s why they prepared Zheng Yan – they wanted to completely destroy your image and reputation. But how did they do it?

Vyn: Do you remember Kirstie Gonzalez? (1)

I hadn’t heard that name in a long time, so the sudden mention of it threw me off for a moment.

MC: Yeah, she was your patient. When I first met you, we both… !!!

The same person, displaying two completely different personalities. That alone was enough to make me think of Kirstie Gonzalez from before.

MC: She had different personalities. Do you think that…?!

Vyn: I believe that Zheng Yan also has dissociative identity disorder, although he has two personalities. Going by when the personalities were created, the main personality is James, whom I met in Svart, and Zheng Yan is an alter who awoke later. The two personalities do not share a memory, and may not even know of the other’s existence. It is rare, but not impossible.

He was convinced of his own innocence, his memories were completely different from Vyn’s, and he was a completely different person from the one Vyn remembered. It sounded nonsensical, but this explained everything that was suspicious about Zheng Yan. Everything – including how he didn’t immediately recognize Vyn and didn’t know that James was his previous name – could be explained.

Vyn: When I met James, he showed no signs whatsoever of having two personalities. His current claims that I psychologically induced his confession may be because it actually happened, only with someone else. Based on Zheng Yan’s behavior, he does not share James’s memories and may not even realize the fact that he is an alter. The interrogation that he described is very likely a memory that someone implanted when using hypnosis to cause his personality to fracture.

MC: That’s not something that can be done easily. The perpetrator must have had it planned for a long time… In that case, they must have some kind of follow-up in mind, otherwise they would have finished things off in one fell swoop.

Vyn: Are you scared?

Unlike his earlier hesitation in the car, Vyn finally asked me up-front what I was thinking.

MC: No, I’m a lawyer – I can protect myself. Besides, you want to face this head-on, and I told you I would be by your side. There’s no way I would back down.

I was certain that Eirik’s call was not only to tell Vyn the truth, but also to offer remediating measures for implicating Vyn in this. Vyn must have also thought of that, yet he still chose to hang up.

Vyn: If I accept my father’s help with all of this, then I will still be entangled in the Svart that I hate. Both in the past and present, that place is like a vortex, always trying to drag me down. By renouncing my inheritance and leaving Svart, I thought I could break free from it all. Instead, it led those people to a misunderstanding –

Vyn smiled, but the expression was frigid like the blade of a sword.

Vyn: They are relentless. Undaunted by my father’s power, they are even willing to extend their reach to Stellis… In the end, they are just subconsciously looking down on me, seeing me as a coward who can do nothing but run away. If that is the case, then I have to show them what kind of person I truly am.

He lowered his voice to his usual relaxed tone, but I could hear the subtle of anticipation in it as well.

Vyn: Moreover, how could I lose when I have you with me?

[END PART FOUR]

(1) Kirstie Gonzalez is the NPC from Vyn’s Near and Far SSR who had dissociative identity disorder.

Worldbuilding note: Based on this story, Svart should be 7 hours ahead of Stellis (when it’s shortly past midnight in Stellis, it’s roughly the time that someone in Svart would be waking up). This would be “opposite” of the real world, where China is ahead of Europe by roughly the same number of hours (depending on the country). Alternatively, Stellis is ahead of Svart, Eirik wakes up at around 5pm, and getting up late is a trait Vyn inherited from him.

[evesaintyves]

I just love the way you write Tonks, she's so much bolshy and dirty and crass, she feels like a real auror and an actual badass that people wouldn't want to mees with! I liked Tonks in books but I admit I was a bit bored by her 'cutesy sweetheart' personality..

thank you so much, that's such a kind thing to say! ❤️ i'm gonna ramble about this a bit if you don't mind!

obviously i extrapolate a lot, but i think there are seeds of that bolshiness etc in canon. from her very first scene we see Tonks kind of talking shit about Harry's house (and her parents!) and giving her mentor, a pretty intimidating dude, guff in front of everyone. she stands up to Remus when he deadnames her (though i agree with the common fanon interpretation that they're flirting a bit in that exchange). she's introduced as a character who speaks her mind and doesn't take any shit*. all of that is on a mission and in front of a kid, so i imagine she's probably even a little more outspoken under other circumstances. it's also clear to me that she's got to be strong-willed, a little singleminded, incredibly talented, and probably a little arrogant to make it as an auror so young: she talks about how difficult it is to qualify and not many do. she's also canonically kind of reactionary and impulsive - i mean, that's how she dies.

some of my characterization of tonks is just personal - so much of her plotline is pretty sad, and her personality disappears entirely toward the end as she becomes a fulcrum for lupin's character arc. and her death, honestly, is kind of stupid. so i feel this urge to give her some justice and a little bit of a fuller personhood in the way i write her.

to me, tonks is (on top of being obviously interpretable as queer) clearly punk/alternative coded, withe the hair and the way she speaks to her elders and her sense of humor. i'm old and i was a tween/young teen in the mid/late nineties when tonks would have been around, and i remember how discovering riot grrl and queer punk bands of that era completely changed the way i thought about myself and the standards i was being held to and just the possibilities for what girls could do and how they could exist in the world and in their own bodies. being gross and crude, rejecting and subverting and playing with the power of the male gaze, talking openly about fucking and bleeding and being gay and being angry: it all seemed like a superpower to me.

tonks is clearly, from the start, in a state of experimentation with her own identity - the way she changes her hair from violet to pink in front of harry - and she's uniquely positioned as a metamorphmagus to create herself from scratch whenever she likes. it reminds me so much of being a kid and discovering that there were all of these new possibilities for who i could be, if i could be brave enough to try them. and we know that Tonks is brave 😉. so like, why not write a Tonks who is liberated, doesn't give a fuck, insists that the world make room for her? i think the contrast with people-pleaser overthinker self-hater lupin is really irresistible, too.

my vision of tonks is as a person i would have looked up to as a kid at that time, but who is still from her pov very much figuring her shit out and trying to construct a self that gives her peace and fulfillment. she dies in that state of flux - having also just undergone the enormous identity-changes of marriage and motherhood. she's fascinating! i insist on it!

so thank you again, such a sweet ask!

* i bet she put up with a ton of bullshit trying to be in a relationship with lupin tho smh girl i mean like