#RED ALERT NEW COSTUME

[depression-napping]

WHAAAAAT

Ok so, i LOVE THIS, my only criticism is, the mask is covering his beautiful face 😭😭😭😭😭 nooooo!!!! I will have to make fanart to remedy this grave error ASAP*

(*I know his original costume covers his face too lol this is a joke)

ALSO NO BANDANNA FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, I’M���

Vincent Valentine Halloween Outfit 'Crowmaster' outfit 'Crow Familiar' weapon Edit: Forgot to change the skin for the weapon but honestly like the look of this weapon better. The point was to just see his weapon animation. :P

[certainlynotasimp]

OH MY GOD. THE WAY I JUST SCREAMED IN MY PILLOW BECAUSE OF YOUR NEW SUNNY FIC AGDGJAEGAJAVSG ITS SOSOSOS CUTE I CANT BREATHEHEHEHEHE. it got me thinking…sunny and miggy are perfect for the one bed trope 😭😭😭😭😭 just imagine miggy acting like it doesn’t effect him, sleeping in the same bad as sunny. i’m already giggling thinking about it. PLEASE WRITE A FIC ABOUT IT WHEN YOU HAVE THE TIME 😭🙏

As Warm As You.

Miguel O’Hara x Female! Reader

A/N: OMG! Thank you so much for the love and the request! 💕🤍 I personally never read anything from this trope, but I think I made something that can satisfy your fluffy craving😅. But I added some Sunny lore, so maybe this will make up for my ignorance. I’m also sorry it’s kinda short.

A/N: I haven’t seen the movie yet, but this shouldn’t be harmed by it maybe. Also I would like to say that I am using Google Translate for the Spanish phrases I use, so if you are fluent in Mexican Spanish (I think that’s what you call phrases and sayings more common in Mexico.), please comment some criticism my way. Thank you!🤍

Warnings: Trauma, Nightmares, comfort, fluffy bits, One Bed, Miguel is a secret softie, No Use of YN ((Sunny is her nickname, not her name name)), Female pronouns, Google Translate Spanish, Established relationship?

——————-

“Ben?…Ben!”

The little spider’s scream cuts through the screeching sirens. The smog hung around the air as the dying flames stained the sky. Too many flames…Too many places to be at once.

The red staining the dark costume caused bile to build up as the search becomes more desperate.

I have to find him.

The dull pain from nails bending and breaking as the rumble falls around her shaking frame. The choked panting caused the Doctor to find his friend quite easily. His friend desperately searching for something. Someone.

Why can’t I find him?

The question is answered with a patch of dark hair appears under a pile of rumble, the tips stained in red. There was so much…why is there so much…

A howl of pain rings out of the young woman’s throat as she clings to the body, her mentor just steps behind her, helpless as to how he can help her.

No one can help her. Like how no one helped her Ben.

——

A faint flash of orange alerts the sleeping man out of his endless dream. He looks around and doesn’t notice anyone at first. Miguel sighs, his paranoia running wild as he almost thought an enemy broke into his apartment, not that it would be a first. As he lays back down to sleep, a slight drag against the floor brings the hairs on the back of his neck to life.

He may not have a spider-sense, but he certain knew when someone was watching him. His talons burrow at as the sound patters closer to his bed. With out hesitation, he lunges towards the noise, his hands catching the form of an invisible figure as he rams them into the wall. A yelp with a whiff of vanilla and lavender stops him from ripping the invisible person’s throat out.

“Cariño?…” Miguel whispers as he retracts his claws. A faint whimpering emerges from the solid unseen being in front of him as her body materializes in the moonlight. The lines of her spider suit glowing an ethereal green as her mask disintegrates, revealing her tear stained face.

“What are you doing?” His eyebrows furrow as he looks at her suspiciously, despite knowing that she was the only one he knows wouldn’t hurt him. His mind blurs his confusion and frustration as he steps back to allow her to recover from being slammed into the wall. Certainly there wasn’t a big enough emergency that the beloved residential ray of sunshine would leave her room at The Lobby to break into his dimension, and bedroom to come get him.

“You know better than to use the gizmo to…” His scolding comes to a halt when the young woman hugs his figure, burning her head into his firm chest.

His shirt becomes wet with her tears as she sobs. The realization hits him as she whimpers into his touch.

She had the dream again.

No. She had the memory again.

His arms wrapped around her short frame as he buried his nose into her hair. Her scent filled the hole of sorrow her cries burned into him. As he rubs her back, her cries eventually stopped as she pulls away from him, an apology already waiting on her lips.

“I’m sorry, Miggy…it was really bad this time…” She mutters as she tries wiping her tears away as she forces a shy smile.

She felt ashamed for bothering him. Miguel was a busy man and she could have just stayed in her room at The Lobby, but the screams were too much.

His screams were too much.

Miguel doesn’t respond as he heads over to his dresser, pulling open a drawer. His face remaining emotionless as he retrieves a sweatshirt that sparked her familiarity.

The old gray crew neck sweatshirt with a fraying collar and mysterious stains along the sleeves. The old golden initials of NYU were cracked and picked apart due to many trips in the wash and anxious tendencies. A faint blush appears as she remembers the first time she ever saw that sweatshirt, the memory being one of her favorite…it was the first time she felt so warm since that day…

Miguel attracts her attention again when he rolls up the fabric in his hands and forces the neck over her head. Her hair sticking awkwardly as she peers up at Miguel in awe at how caring he was despite his annoyed expression.

“Brazos arriba, Sunshine.” He whispers as he helps her arms through the sleeves. She blindly follows him like a student being instructed. The taller spider stands back as he raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“I appreciate that you enjoy the suit I made you, mi luz.” Miguel states with a slight teasing smile. “But you probably wanna be more comfortable for bed.”

“Oh yea…” The small spider blushes in embarrassment as she disintegrates her suit back into her gizmo device. A shiver travels up her spine as the cold air on her legs, leaving her almost exposed except for the old sweatshirt.

“Now then,” Miguel sighs as he walks back over to his bed and crawls back under the covers. “I have several meetings in the morning, so I need to sleep.”

The little spider shuffles in her spot for a few moments as Miguel closes his eyes, getting ready to sleep again. With a nail between her teeth, the girl heads for the door to go find the couch when Miguel clears his throat. She turns back to look at him when she sees the covers beside him pulled back. Miguel’s open eye glaring at her as he groans. “It would be a lot easier for me to leave in the morning if you are in here and not in my way.”

A warm smile forms on her face as she excitedly comes into his bed. Miguel’s front facing her as his burgundy gaze burns with false annoyance and exhaustion. Miguel sighs as he feels the smaller being’s weight snuggles into his broad chest as expected.

“Thank you, Miggy.” She whispers. Her eyes peering up at him with gratitude and an emotion that only shines for him, his own secret that he will die to keep to himself.

Miguel rolls his eyes as his eyes meet hers, his warm cheeks hidden by the darkness. “Go to sleep, Cariño. You’re gonna need it for training.”

She giggles as she wraps her arms around his waist like a teddy bear. “Sweet Dreams, mi bonita araña..” She mumbles as she closes her eyes. His warmth fills the coldness of her nightmares as sleep draws her to peaceful breaths. Miguel remains frozen for a few moments as he makes sure she is deep in REM sleep before his gaze softens.

His rapidly beating heart acts as her lullaby as he places a kiss on her crown.

“Sweet dreams, mi vida…” He whispers into her scalp as his arms loom around her, acting as her shield before he slips into a sweet slumber in his light’s embrace.

[thevoidstaredback]

At exactly three in the afternoon, New Jersey time, the next day, Batman and Robin took the Zeta Tube up to the Watchtower to gather the waiting heroes for their promised tour of the Batcave.

Jason and Barbra were set up in the clocktower, watching the cameras Tim had set up the night before to record everything. Dick was at the Batcomputer, watching for alerts in case anyone decided to cut their fun short. Stephanie and Cass were on standby in the Manor with Alfred, setting up a movie night to watch the recordings before they were to head down to the Cave to interchangeably play Spoiler. Duke and Tim were both in the Cave, hidden in the rafters in their stealth suits. Kate and Selina had both agreed to help mess with the Justice League, neither actually knowing their identities, and were patrolling Gotham in place of Duke while they waited for part two of the plan.

The plan was set as follows, with room for improv and any missteps: -Batman and Robin gather the heroes from the Watchtower and bring them down to the Batcave -Nightwing meets them and joins in on the tour -Oracle calls Nightwing away for an emergency in Bludhaven -Batwoman would then call Batman away to help out against Red Hood in Crime Alley (that was so that they'd all keep thinking that Red Hood and Batman were still on bad terms. all the better to surprise Wonder Woman when she came to the Manor for the gala) -Steph, as Spoiler, would enter the Cave via the Lane and join Robin and the JL for a tour. She and Cass would then switch out at random intervals, basically gaslighting everyone - especially Superman - into thinking they're the same person -Nightwing and Batman would met up at the Clocktower to switch costumes. Dick becomes Batman while Jason and Bruce go to the Manor in civvies to show that they're under a residence -Duke and Tim, meanwhile, move things around the Cave as they please. At some point, Tim and Damian switch out, but don't acknowledge the switch -NightBat (Nightwing as Batman) comes back to the Cave, sending Steph and Cass back out and to the Manor in civvies, and Duke goes to take over for Batwoman and Catwoman -NightBat and Bruce meet in the locker rooms, while Red Robin distracts the JL, to change back into Batman and Nightwing -Batman rejoins the JL and RR while Nightwing goes back to get his bike and reenter the Cave via the Lane -Robin switches out with Red Robin who resets the Cave, putting everything back in its place as quickly as he can without being noticed -Nightwing comes back -Oracle calls out an emergency at the GCPD -The JL leave

Obviously, they all had comms in and were listening in on everything.

"Exactly on time." Green Arrow nods as Batman and Robin step out of the Zeta Tubes.

Wonder Woman smiles, "How are you doing today, Robin?"

Robin nods to her. "I am well, thank you. And yourself?"

"I am as well as I can be."

"That's good."

The group stands in place for a moment, Batman and Robin doing nothing to alleviate the nervous energy of the heroes in front of them. Eventually, it's Flash who breaks.

"Well, look at the time!" the speedster claps his hand together, "We don't want to be late, right?"

Superman nods in agreement. "Yeah." He turns to the two Gotham vigilantes, "Lead the way."

Batman nods and turns to put the coordinates for the Cave into the computer, authorizing the heroes to access the Batcave just this once. He motions to the Zeta Tubes and Robin steps in. Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Arrow, Martian Manhunter, Green Lantern, Flash, Cyborg, and Aquaman all take turns to follow him. Batman goes last.

Once in the Cave, the Gotham vigilantes allowed the Justice League heroes a few minutes to gawk. The cavern they were in was nothing special. It was a branch off from near the outskirts of the Cave, far enough away to stop any intruders that somehow got passed the Zeta security, but close enough that it only took a few minutes to reach the main cave. There were three Zeta Tubes set up in the small area with a security desk and computer to arm or disable any traps. A matching desk sat at the other end of the trapped hallway.

Entering the main area of the Cave, the JL took another few minutes to drink in the sight. Batman and Robin allowed them to. Nightwing didn't turn his chair yet, waiting for th perfect moment to announce himself.

"Is that- Why do you have a dinosaur in here?" Flash asked, having done a double take at the sight. The others join him.

Nightwing took the cue and spun the Batchair around dramatically. "To eat intruders."

The heroes turned to him as one unit, Lantern, Flash, Aquaman, and Cyborg openly gawking at the Batcomputer.

"Nightwing," Wonder Woman greeted, "It's good to see you."

"What the hell!" Cyborg cut in, holding himself back from running to the computer, though he speed-walked up to it. "It's beautiful."

"Isn't she?" Nightwing smirked, "B built her all by himself. The monitors are all TVs, custom wired to fit the frameless design."

"All seven?" Aquaman asked.

Nightwing nodded. "Yep! And the computer itself was custom, too! I helped with that, actually. It used to be a combination of three computers connected to the monitors, but I helped him condens it down to one shell connected to all seven monitors. RR keeps up the maintenance, though."

Green Arrow and Green Lantern also walked up to the desk. "It's an impressive display," Arrow said, "How long did it take?" He directed the question to Batman who joined the group, the rest coming up behind him.

"Three years and two months," the vigilante answered, "Two years to get everything together and wired properly. Another two months after Nightwing joined me as Robin to condense the three computers into one shell. A year to get everything coded and the firewalls up. As technology changes and programing gets better, so does the Batcomputer. She's intelligent all on her own, but RR and O are working on an AI for her."

"Who's-" Green Lantern was cut off by an alarm on the upper-most left monitor.

"Batcave, this is Oracle." she said, her voice coming through all the speakers in the Cave.

"Go ahead, O," Nightwing turned his chair back to face the computer, his hands flying between the three keyboards as he pulled up what the alarm was for .

"There's a problem in Bludhaven, 'wing, how fast can you be there?"

He pulled up a map of his home turf, seeing the false alarm at the BHPD. Though, what the Justice League didn't know wouldn't hurt them. "The bank on main, right?"

"That's the one."

"I'll be there in twenty tops."

"Alright."

Nightwing pushed the chair back, turning it and standing in one swift motion. Quickly, he made his way to where his bike was parked in the garage on the lower level of the Cave.

"Comms with Oracle," Batman ordered.

"As always!" he called back, pulling his helmet on before quickly peeling out of the Cave.

It was quiet as the sounds of the motorcycle faded out into the renovated cave system beneath the Crime Capital of the Country.

"Should we..." Martian Manhunter started, "Does he need help?"

Robin scoff lightly. "He will be fine. If he could not handle a minor bank robbery by himself, he would have died before transferring his mantle of Robin onto the next."

"Oh?" Aquaman turned his full attention to the child, "Who took the name after Nightwing?"

Robin didn't answer. Instead, he pointed to the dinosaur. "Our old costumes are kept on display downstairs by the penny. Would you like to see them?"

Wonder Woman, only falling second to Batman when children are involved, nodded. "Would you show the way?"

"Naturally." Taking the lead, Robin lead the group of heroes down the stairs and to the lower part of the Cave.

The upper, main, part of the Cave held the Batcomputer, the main entrances to the Manor, the Zeta Tubes, the lab, the meeting table, and the small med bay. The lower bar of the Cave was home to the training room, the displays, the large med bay, the Vault, the Batplane, and the garage.

"You really leaned into the whole gimmick, huh?" Superman nudged Batman with his elbow.

Cyborg watched him from the corner of his eye. "What do ya mean?"

The kryptonian pointed up. "There's about two hundred bats hanging up on the ceiling.

Flash flinched in on himself. "What?"

"This was their home before I took my name," Batman explained shortly.

Another alarm went off before anyone else could speak, though it was from Batman's gauntlet. He stepped away from the group knowing fully that they all could still hear.

"Hey, B!" Batwoman greeted, a smile evident in her voice.

"Batwoman," he responded. He hid his amusement as his coworkers stared at him in shock. "What's wrong."

"You remember Red Hood, right?"

"Obviously."

"Well, I've gotten into a bit of a pickle."

Batman cut her off with a sigh. "Send your coordinates, I'm on my way."

"Fantastic! Bring your grapple!" Then, she hund up.

"Is this a bad day?" Green Lantern asked, "We can leave and come back another day."

"Don't be ridiculous." Robin scolded, "I am more than capable of showing you around the Cave alone." He turned to his father, "Give Batwoman my greetings."

Batman grunted as he got into the Batmobile. Swiftly, he closed the door, turned the engine, and left the Cave.

Part 4 Part 6

[kairiscorner]

❝𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒 . . .❞

kento nanami x wife!reader imagine . . . 💭

✒️ word count: 424 💭 summary: your little darlings caught their mommy kissing santa claus... ~ 🍥 author's note: it's pretty suggestive bc it's nanami fucking kento 💝 🎧 song inspo: i saw mommy kissing santa claus by the jackson 5

the sound of your daughter squealing and pointing at you and the red jacket clad man dressed up as the jolliest man on earth alerted your young son to come into the living room, who squealed in return.

their mommy was kissing santa claus in the living room last night.

your eyes widened and you immediately pulled away from him, involuntarily smiling as you see his flustered face. you always insisted a beard suited your dear husband, though he never thought putting on the snow white beard and wearing a santa costume the two of you scraped together to surprise your children would really make them believe santa arrived tonight to leave their pretty mother with a gift for all her nice (and naughty) deeds this year.

"santa's kissing mommy!" your little girl cried out, with your little boy covering her eyes and screaming, "mommy's kissing santa claus!" you chuckled under your breath as your husband sighed and muttered under his breath how the plan to surprise them at midnight with santa's arrival was now ruined. "i knew we should've saved the fun for later..." he mumbled, with you placing your hands on the opposite sides of his face with a soft and sly smile on your face.

"well, at least santa spoiled me with a reward for being the sweetest mother ever, no?" you giggled out, making nanami blush at your boldness, with him easing against your touch, making your children squeal again and cry out how their mommy was kissing santa, it's true! they saw it with their own eyes!

as they rushed to get their daddy and tell him all about how mommy's gonna make santa their new daddy... you pulled your husband closer and pecked his lips gently, treating him for his sweetness and devotion to you and your children, to this little family you both call yours. "you always deserve a reward for being my beautiful and perfect wife, darling." he reminds you with a low chuckle of his own, pulling the beard down and kissing you passionately, warming you up better than the fireplace and the burn of alcohol did.

with the sound of your children's cries and giggles at having caught their pretty mommy kissing santa claus filled the whole house, they'd never let you live it down... guess your dearest husband's going to have to remind you who you really love once he comes back. but tonight... you'll be showing santa baby over here just how much you've been a good girl for him this year.

[zahri-melitor]

Not that I would ever write a Titans Tower fic because of so many reasons but, if we gently massage the timeline just a lil bit here I can make such a better set of starting conditions than your average fic. That actually, you know, recognises when the story is set.

Teen Titans #29 is a December 2005 story, the same month that Dick agrees to work with Slade to train Rose (and proceeds to 'train' Rose as a villain by pointing out all the ways she needs to learn how to fight against the various members of the Society of Super Villains for the inevitable occasion they betray her dad. Oh Dick. You are so bad at being a villain. Anyway). The following month Roy shows up to go "what are you DOING DICK" at the request of Oracle and Dick kicks him around a bit in Nightwing #114.

But what if we shift events in Nightwing just a little forward, ahead of Teen Titans.

So then we can have this Roy-Dick-Rose are fighting Venom-pumped mooks fight scene...and Roy gets an emergency override from Oracle in his ear, letting him know that Titans Tower has gone into lockdown for some reason, setting off an alert.

Now, Mia's on the Teen Titans at this point. So Roy freaks out because Mia's supposed to be there and tells Dick who ALSO FREAKS OUT because the first information about the lockdown Oracle passes along has some detail about the alert giving very bad vibes (hinting that it's one of Jason's codes or something like that, or Tim's managed to set off a distress call or why am I overthinking this, it's a Titans Tower fic).

And Dick (still dressed as Ravager, I might add) turns around with Roy to go storm the Tower and figure out what has gone on, telling Rose "you wanted practice being bad? We're going to go break into Titans Tower".

And given it's Roy and Dick, they are immediately in agreement that they take Rose with them for a fun and educational trip (also Rose knows how to sneak around the Tower just as well as anyone, she's lived there before too while she was Lian's nanny, even though she's recently had her mental breakdown and stabbed out her eyeball an extra body who knows how the Tower works is helpful right now).

So the upshot of this and Dick using his very not-supposed-to-be-used JL transporter codes he nicked off Bruce, probably assisted by Dinah given she's an Actual JLAer at this very point in time and standing right next to Babs during all of these shenanigans, is that Jason Todd, in full weeb 'I'm not having a tantrum about no longer being Robin, honestly I'm not' costume turns around from fighting Tim and bearing down on him is a chick in what looks like a Deathstroke costume knockoff, a creepy red vigilante he's never seen before, and a fuming mad Roy Harper.

We go from there. Jason is having a very bad day.

There's also this angle where Dick's just been explaining to Rose exactly how bad news Talia al Ghul is almost immediately before all of this occurs, so if you want some dramatic irony there is another line to exploit...

[boldlyvoid]

Boldlyvoid fics set in the fall masterlist

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friends to lovers, case-of-the-week style story

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Halloween Fics:

Spencer Reid x reader:

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Raymond x Reader:

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Spector Spooktacular -- 1.6k | for their first anniversary, Raymond takes his girlfriend to a cemetery for a Halloween picnic… having dinner while giving the spirits a show

Franklin x Reader:

Trick or Treat -- 3.1k | Franklin and Reader are paired up for costume bowling as their costumes accidentally match. she’s a sexy cheerleader, and he’s a 70’s porn star… they spend most of the game teasing each other instead of trying to win

Chip Taylor x Reader

Rater R for Revenge -- 6.7k (murder tw) | Chip’s new neighbour doesn’t answer to her name… he remembers settling into a new town with a new name and no friends, so he helps her settle in. learning about her abusive husband, the reason she’s on the run and falling in love with her in the meantime. he loves her so much he can’t imagine someone ever hurting her and getting to live freely, so they plan to murder him.

Wes x Reader:

House Calls -- 2.5K | Wes asks his receptionist if she’s coming to the building’s Halloween party, letting it slip that he just wants to spend time with her outside of work.

[literaila]

listening ears 

tasm!peter x fem!reader 

summary: in which peter is terrible at keeping secrets. and socks. 

warnings: idiots to friends to lovers, no angst just pining, arguments, fluff, ahhhh

a/n: heres the link to the playlist. for a real time experience, listen. (this makes it sound like an amusement park which i think is funny)

word count: 10k

the first time you meet him, you're listening to sad music. 

it's unclear which song--being that it's late enough that they've begun to blur together, instrumental shifting to piano and soft sullen voices and heartbeats you can't hear but feel--but it rings in your ears as he walks by. 

as spider-man is suddenly in front of you, suddenly right in front of your bench, flashing blue and red and ego and playing with some weird white string between his fingers. 

you're also fairly certain that he's cursing. 

so, quietly, you hit pause on your phone, taking out an earbud. you watch him, hoping that he's already noticed your presence. 

hoping that maybe he'll leave and there will be no questioning--from either of you--about what you're doing out this late on a night like this. 

the snow on your head has melted, turning your hair several different forms of wet. 

and when spider-man has not looked up, or any other place he might be mugged, you, graciously, clear your throat. 

alerting him of your presence and beginning an attempt to beg him to leave. 

spider-man, unsurprisingly, jumps back. 

his white eyes are wide, but that might just be the costume. 

you smile and wave. 

"wha--" he looks around, behind himself, like you might be waving at someone else. "when did you get there?" he asks. 

his voice is quieter than you've heard it before. less animated. maybe a bit rough, or sore. 

you tilt your head, lifting a brow. "about an hour ago." 

spider-man stares blankly at you. "no." 

you contemplate laughing, or maybe tripping him with your leg as he peers closer at you, but ultimately hum. "okay." you drawl, "maybe i didn't." 

your smile is soft. your voice is abundantly sweet. 

you do not doubt that if spider-man wanted to, he could make both of you disappear in an instant. 

not that you're afraid, of course. you've seen the news. and experienced an average day in new york. 

spider-man tries again to pull his hands apart. fails. 

"sticky?" you ask him, swinging your legs. 

you think--but really just know--that spider-man glares at you. 

and then, with the subtleness of a child, he leans up again, straightening his back. clears his throat like he's got a lot to say. "what are you doing out so late?" 

his voice might be even deeper now, as some method of intimidation. 

unfortunately for him, you got over your fear of spiders a couple of months ago. 

"i could ask you the same thing," you respond. 

spider-man does not find this amusing, apparently, because he just stares at you. waiting and watching. 

eventually, maybe just to evade some awkward silence approaching, you sigh and relent. "i was drawing," you say, gesturing to the notebook you set aside. 

you don't tell him about the music, or your sore eyes. 

or about how when he first showed up you almost fell off the bench. 

these are things he probably doesn't need to know, you think. 

spider-man must frown or something because he grumbles out his next question. "drawing?" he repeats. "at three in the morning? in the dark?" 

"there's a light right there," you point to the streetlight above your head, the picture of innocence. 

you continue to smile at this man, if only because he seems to find it immensely irritating. 

"aren't you cold?" 

"the weather?" you furrow your brows, criticizing him. "c'mon, i thought you were better than that." 

"it's snowing." 

"i hadn't noticed." 

"your paper is getting wet--" he points to your notebook, to the soiled edges. 

it's the first thing to make you frown since he's shown up. 

"shit," you whisper, brushing some snow and lead off of the paper. "i liked this one." 

"sorry." spider-man clears his throat again. he bounces between feet like he's freezing. 

"is spandex warm?" you ask him, leaning forward. 

"i'm fine."

you frown. "are you always this grumpy? or is it just cause i scared ya?" 

"you didn't scare me." 

"must be the hands then," you say, leaning over so you can try and see the hands he's kept hidden behind his back. 

but spider-man pulls them out--two of them--wiggling his fingers. 

you frown. "how'd you do that?" 

spider-man doesn't answer. instead, he looks around, probably for someone to rescue him. 

unfortunately, everyone else went to bed hours ago. 

you grin at him, suddenly and smoothly, holding your notebook out to him. "wanna see?" 

spider-man is definitely judging the mess of a journal you have, but he takes it from you anyway, if a bit hesitantly. "whoa--" he says, turning it over. and then he pauses. 

he looks back to you. 

you smile. 

"this is a penis." 

you and maturity have never gotten along. 

you make an effort to keep a blank face--snickering internally at the dry way he says it--and shake your head. "no," you say, "if you turn it over it's a smile." 

spider-man does so. 

and surely behind the mask, he's doing a slow blink, probably scowling at you. 

"do you like it?" you ask him, keeping your voice soft and sincere. 

he hands it back to you, sighing. "you should head home." 

"so, no?" 

"really," he says, almost gently. "you'll get frostbite. there's a reason no one else is out." 

you blink, leaning back. "except you?" 

spider-man swings his arms back and forth. he looks away. "except me." 

"you can't get frostbite?" you guess. 

and spider-man, despite himself, tries to smother a laugh with a cough. but you hear it clearly enough. 

you furrow your brows as you peer at him. 

and so he points a finger at you, stern. "get packing." 

"what if i live on this bench?" 

he doesn't laugh this time. he just starts to walk away, eyes still on you. "if you're not gone in five minutes i'm swinging you home." 

"you don't know where i live," you say, calling his bluff. 

but he turns around, waving nonchalantly.

you watch him, maybe surprised or irritated. 

either way, you call after him. 

and he spares you a glance. 

"maybe i'll draw you next time," you say. 

and then he's gone, and you're switching playlists. 

*

when peter runs into the bathroom he's not really thinking about germs. 

or toilet seats or washing his hands, or, obviously, checking the stalls for anyone else in there. 

the fire alarm went off two minutes ago; anyone who remains, peter thinks, is probably not going to connect any dots between him and spider-man. 

and when he unzips his backpack, digging his suit out of one of the pockets and cursing as pencils and pens fall onto the ground, he wonders why he didn't iron it this morning. 

why he even tried to do laundry yesterday, considering that he's not very good at it and may has definitely noticed. 

still, he kicks his shoes off. 

the floor isn't wet this time, peter's thinking, so thank god for that. 

he swings his jacket off of his shoulders and hurries to unbutton his pants. 

there's a gentle buzzing of a fan in the corner, only slightly drowned out by the siren that is giving peter a headache. and flashing lights. and people running by. 

and lots of chances to get caught, but not enough care in the world. 

and if peter focuses enough, he can hear some type of music playing, somewhere close. 

loud bass, quick rhythm. 

he almost pauses to think about it, and then decides against it.

he flings his pants onto the floor, folding his shirt over his head. 

it is very cold in this bathroom. 

still, peter slides his socks off, hating the tiled floors, and internally screaming when one of the socks falls under the stall, disappearing to places that peter does not have time to look in. 

and then he's squeezing into a very irritating suit. 

trying to remind himself what the greater good is and blah blah blah. . . 

but his arms are sore as he tries to zip it up, jumping to reach. 

peter is insanely grateful for doors and peace and quiet and advil, of course. 

and finally--finally--when he has the suit on, he scrambles to pick up everything he left on the floor while also putting his web-slingers on. 

a good effort, really. 

he sticks his backpack to the wall, promising himself that he's not going to forget it. 

and then he unlocks his stall, beginning to step out when he catches a glance of you. 

standing right in front of him, white earbud dangling toward the ground, proud smirk as you hold his sock up. 

peter pauses. he stares at you. 

you tap an innocent finger on your chin. "aren't you supposed to check the bathroom before you change?" 

peter's first move is to try and grab the sock from your hand. but you, swift on your feet, duck away, humming to yourself. 

"you're gonna go save a bunch of people with a sock in your hand?" you ask him.

peter thinks for a moment--not about socks, thank god--if you were standing in there when he walked in. 

if you had paused when he burst through the door, not thinking about what bathroom this was or any person who might've stuck around. if your eyes were wide and mischievous--as they are now--when he quickly ducked into a stall. 

but he knows, really, that you weren't there. 

because, peter recognizes, he wouldn't have been able to miss you. 

still, you're smirking at him. 

"better get out there, spider-man," you say, gesturing towards the door. 

and peter doesn't have the time to curse at you because you're right. 

he doesn't bother to try and grab his sock again. 

and when peter opens the door he can hear it--

your laugh. 

and a gentle throbbing of another one bites the dust coming from your headphones. 

*

you're trying not to laugh. 

really, it's an extreme effort as you store the snort deep inside your chest, trying to melt the smile off of your face. 

you are squirming in your seat as your sternum begs for some sort of relief. 

and you contemplate leaving the library before this goes too far. before you start cackling in his face, unable to hold back--even if he gives you a weird look and everyone else around you starts complaining. 

there's not much you can do to stop it, honestly, not when you've been sitting here, studying, for the last hour, music lulling you almost to sleep. and not when the boy who is now sitting in the cubicle next to you kicked his feet out, revealing some scruffed up converse. 

and of course, some mismatched socks. 

when you looked down--in a moment of weakness, dropping some type of pencil--you had to do a double take. 

not that you can judge this boy, who you've been studying for the last five minutes and his choice of attire. you lose your own socks all of the time. 

but there's a grey sock, plain and casual and not unlike your own. and then, just a couple of inches over, there's another sock. this one with a striped, colorful pattern, and words on the other side that you can't really read--for lack of view--but recognize almost immediately. 

because, coincidently, you have the same sock in your backpack, awaiting a certain visitor. 

and so, as soon as you looked up at this boy, the amusement crowded your not-so-subtle eyes. 

he's got brown hair, a frown on his face as he reads a textbook that looks much more than dreadful. his chin is jutted out, his teeth idly munching on the lip between them. a headphone in one ear.

and, of course, this boy doesn't look over. he seems almost unaware of your presence. 

and maybe that's what makes this so funny. 

being that you've experienced this a couple of times now, and it's getting really hard to not say anything about it. 

synchronicities, you know, can only go on for so long. 

and this boy--this strange, somewhat attractive boy--is blissfully ignorant. 

and you can't believe that he's wearing those socks in public.

you clear your throat, smile unstoppable now. 

but he doesn't look over. 

and you cover your mouth, shaking your head and turning yourself completely so that when he finally does decide to look over, he will know that you've been staring at him. 

he will know that there's no avoiding this interaction. 

which, for some strange reason, you're getting immense pleasure out of. 

if you listen close enough you can hear the music he's playing. 

some melancholy guitar music, completely what you would've assumed from him. 

it makes you smile even wider. 

you clear your throat again, leaning forward, legs crossed on your chair. 

you kind of want to make him jump. 

"excuse me," you say, softly. good enough to not draw any attention in this library. 

though, your smile might be enough to raise some eyebrows. 

the boy looks over, eyes wide and attentive. 

you note his face as he takes you in. 

"i was just wondering," you continue, innocently, "where you got your socks?" 

you have rendered this boy speechless. which you seem to do a lot of. 

you cough. "i mean, sock." 

he looks down, to his feet, and then to you, seeming to understand. you catch a smudge of panic in his eyes, carefully glazed over as he opens his mouth, trying to say something. 

he scratches his neck. blinking, with his mouth open, like he's trying to make sure that you're actually there. 

and, to be honest, this is exactly what you imagined of him. 

"lose all of your other pairs, too? or do you just like the look of clashing colors?" you blink at him, leaning back. 

he takes a deep breath. "i'm sorry?" 

"i mean," you shrug, turning back to your desk, "if it were me, i probably wouldn't wear those. especially when someone might have the exact same sock. but, to each their own." 

"you--" he awkwardly laughs. "i just, um, found this. in the bathroom." 

"was it in a backpack stuck to the wall?" you look back to him--his wide, scared, doe eyes--polite smile on your face. 

"actually, i bought them yesterday. they came like this." 

"interesting design choice," you respond. 

and the boy, who is still staring at you, though not quite as breathless now, ducks down, leaning closer to you. "what do you want?" he whispers, eyes glaring. 

"excuse me?" you whisper back.

"i'll--whatever it is, i'll try and get it. just don't--please don't tell anyone." 

you frown, resting your head on a hand. "tell anyone what?" 

"what you--" he looks around for anyone who might be listening. "what you know." 

you tilt your head, questioning, and amused eyes. 

"about me," he clarifies, almost hissing. 

you lean back, studying him. "we just met," you say, with a hand to your chest. 

he glares back. 

"i won't spread your questionable fashion choices around the school if that's what you mean." 

this boy still doesn't laugh. just like the first time, and the second, he seems to find you distasteful. almost annoying. 

and honestly, that might be the only thing fueling this fire in your veins. this want to mess with him until he drops. 

"seriously," he says, angry, "what do you want from me?" 

"just to know where you bought those." 

and then, as quietly and quickly as possible, you bend down to dig into your backpack, smiling in satisfaction as you find it, and then leaning back up, handing it to him. 

"i wouldn't leave those around," you whisper. "you never know who might try and copy you." 

you are almost threatening him. 

the boy glowers. "i don't know what you're talking about." 

you shrug, turning away again. 

but he grabs your arm. "what?" he demands, again and again. 

his eyes are angry, his face is hard and he's leaning away from you like you might reach out and turn him to dust. 

but you only smile, asking sweetly "what's your name?" 

he stares for a moment, blinking. "what?" 

"i think maybe we have met before," you answer. "you seem familiar." 

the boy grinds his teeth together. 

but you wait, shoving that chuckling down your chest. 

"peter," he says, the word mad and tough. 

"peter," you repeat, looking away from him. "nice to meet you. i'm y/n." 

you reach to shake his hand, and he stares at it like it's poison. 

you roll your eyes. "don't worry," you add, softly. "i haven't forgotten. i still have to draw you." 

his frown increases. 

and you laugh as you turn away, thinking about secrets. 

and listening to the music in peter's ears, still drifting over. 

*

peter is not really paying attention tonight. 

he roamed around all day--because there was nothing else to do--talking to strangers and not having to smile for pictures, just hoping for something to pop up. 

and it did, and then it didn't. 

when the problems are easy to fix, peter knows, they're less enjoyable. 

still, the distraction was nice. 

and you are not as you sit on a bench in front of him, smiling. 

you've got that look on your face--the one that makes peter want to run away. 

especially because you know who he is. 

because he's been especially reckless the past couple of weeks, and as a consequence, you have shown up. you have smiled at him, whispering gentle words and even gentler promises. 

and you've got a pencil in your hands. 

a glint in your eyes that peter's seen somewhere before. 

"fancy seeing you here," you say, amused. this is the same bench he passed by on the first night--when he was thinking about going home but didn't. 

peter curses his own stupid decisions; the difference that they could've made. 

"are you going to threaten me again?" peter asks, not really joking, though his voice gives nothing away. 

"i don't know what you're talking about." 

you're shrugging, looking away from him as your lips curl at the corners. 

and then you look back up. "you never did answer my question about the socks, though." 

peter rolls his eyes, though he doesn't miss the way he moves forward, trying to catch a glance at the surely explicit picture you're drawing. 

curiosity is a curse. 

"aren't you cold?" peter merely repeats. 

"it's not snowing. so, no." 

peter grunts. "another body part?" he nods toward the picture you're drawing, the thing you've chosen to look at instead of him. 

"a foot," you grin up at him, eyebrows raise. "though, if you wanted. . . i could get started on my picture of you." 

peter wishes you could see his frown. 

still, he takes another step towards you. "how much?" 

"hmm?" 

"how much are you charging for it?" 

peter watches you stifle a laugh, feels the pin-prick of pleasure in his chest. "only a smile," you say, head tilted. 

"no thanks, then." 

"c'mon, spider-man," you complain. "you're so much nicer to everyone else." 

"everyone else hasn't threatened me." 

you pout. "i won't tell anyone," you tell him, eyes wide, "if that's what you're worried about." 

peter doesn't answer, just stares at you. looking for any tells. 

"i mean," you continue, shrugging. "not that anyone would believe me. you've got enough frown lines to put me to shame." 

as if to prove your point, peter frowns. "what's that supposed to mean?" 

"well, i don't think anyone else has ever heard spider-man so much as grumble. so you. . ." you scrutinize him, nose wrinkled. "you couldn't be him." 

peter narrows his eyes. 

but you smile again, patting the bench next to you. "sit." 

"i can't. i'm working." 

you roll your eyes, sighing. "i'm the only one here. wouldn't you be better off watching me? just to make sure i don't do anything." 

you smile at him, and it's more vicious than kind. 

peter notes your eyes and the secretive glances you're giving him. 

you might be right. 

so he shrugs and moves to sit down next to you. 

he's been closer, anyway. 

you flip to another page, looking up at him, then down. 

and so it begins. 

you hum as you draw him, and peter taps his fingers on the bench, feeling nervous and uncomfortable, and mostly, hating that he's allowed himself to do this. 

maybe just to keep in your good graces. 

"what classes are you taking?" you ask him after a couple of minutes go by. 

"what?" 

"last week," you say, head tilting. erasing something on the paper. you've tilted it up on your knees, leaning against the arm of the bench, so peter can't see. "you were studying. that textbook looked horrible." 

peter lets his lip perk up. 

"what were you studying for?" 

"a chemistry midterm." 

you look at him, eyes just a bit tired. "you're into science?" you ask, almost doubtful. 

peter crosses his arms. 

"i mean, no offense or anything--" you smile as you say it. "--but i would've picked you for a music major. or business." 

peter understands the implication. he doesn't say anything. 

"gym major?" you ask, stealing a glance at his arms, laughing to yourself. 

"what about you?" he asks, suddenly leaning forward. "i didn't realize there were classes on how to manipulate someone." 

"that's called law," you respond, dryly. "and i'm an art major." 

peter is sure you can feel his raised brow. 

you roll your eyes, sighing as you relent. "fine. undecided. but i'm figuring it out." 

you smile again like you know something he doesn't. 

another minute passes, peter listening to the wind and your pencil as you scribble against the page. 

"how long is this going to take?" peter asks, looking up, wondering how long he's been here. 

"you can't rush art." 

"i can when it's annoying me." 

you don't look at him, but peter watches as you tense. he almost catches himself--the words he's just spoken and accidentally let out--and decides not to say anything. 

maybe you'll forget about it. 

"so," you drawl, after thirty seconds of awkward silence. "you're a chemist." 

"engineer." 

you scoff. "sorry, but that means the same thing to me." 

peter snorts back. 

"how old are you?" you ask him, brow furrowed as you concentrate. 

"i'm not telling you." 

you raise a brow, but don't look at him. "why not?" 

"you'll just add it to the file." 

you don't say anything. 

"the file of things you know about me." 

there's a quirk on your face, the clearing of your throat. "i was serious," you tell him, again. "i'm not going to tell anyone. i respect your privacy." 

peter gives you a dubious look. 

"i respect your anonymity," you revise, giving him a grin. "and if you keep moving your face i'm going to mess up your portrait." 

"are you actually an artist?" peter asks, "or is this a ploy to get unsuspecting strangers to stop?" 

"guess," you say. 

"i'm going with the latter." 

you shrug, not looking at him. "i've been told worse. but i think you're really going to like this."

peter doubts that, but he doesn't say anything. 

and another tens minutes pass--in which you scrutinize everything about the suit he designed, snorting when he argues back--and then you're tearing out a page, smiling at him.

"i mean it," you tell him, "next time i see you i want a smile." 

"i could be smiling right now." 

you stare at him. 

"just give it to me." 

you laugh, putting your notebook in the bag next to you. "just don't look until i'm gone, okay?" 

"you don't want to watch my reaction?" 

"i don't think i need to." 

and peter watches as you put everything else away--pencils and erasers and stick of charcoal. he pauses when he finally notices the headphones you tuck into your bag. 

"you were listening to something before i got here?" 

you just nod, zipping up your bag. 

"what?" 

you look up at him, eyes daring. "guess," you say. 

"kanye?" 

you scoff. "please." 

"miley cyrus?" 

you tilt your head, "i would be more likely to listen to the hannah montana soundtrack." 

"metallica?" 

you nod, lips pursing. "you got it, spider-man. i'm a metal kinda girl." 

peter could've told you that. 

but you're smirking before he can respond, pulling the pencil back out, flipping over the paper, and concealing it with your hand so that he can't see. 

"there," you say, after forty-five seconds of scribbling. "now it's finished." 

you put the pencil away, standing up. 

"i'll see you soon," you say to him, nodding. "and that smile." 

peter snorts. 

and then you're walking away, waving an idle hand goodbye as you turn the corner. peter watches until you're gone, making sure that you're not going to pop back out when he least suspects it, and then he slides over on the bench, finally grabbing the paper. 

he flips it over to find a black-and-white picture of himself, every slope and curve of his suit that he recognizes in the mirror. 

and he knows, for sure, that you lied to him. or he lied to you. 

it wasn't the latter. 

still, somewhat amazed, smiling under his mask, his eyes drift down to the words you've written at the corner of the page. 

you are a call to motion, it says. there, all of you, a verb in perfect view. 

and then another foul "smiley face." peter almost laughs. 

when you move, you've written, i move. 

and your number at the very bottom, scribbled a bit recklessly. 

peter memorizes the numbers before he swings home.  

*

you get the first text three days later. 

your phone vibrates in your pocket as you're waiting in line at a coffee shop, watching the people around you move with creases in their brows. 

your fingers itch for the notebook in your bag. 

and when you read the screen, you're a bit confused. 

a text from an unknown number, and all it says is: 

you lied. 

you frown, thinking of who you might've irritated in the past couple of days. 

it only takes a couple of seconds to recall the boy who you've messed with the most. 

peter and the scowls he's given you. 

you smile, knowing what he means. 

and then you send him the spotify link to enter sandman. 

*

peter rolls his eyes when he gets the message. still, he clicks on the link, plugging his headphones into the jack. 

he walks while he listens, wincing at the words. 

and when it's finished--when peter officially decides that he's finished with you--he sends back another link. 

one to the song you wrote out for him, the song you happened to lie about. 

are you flirting with me? he asks, trying not to let himself regret it. 

or smile as he sees the little bubble at the bottom of the screen, letting him know that you're still there. 

you send an emoji of a spider back and peter's smile fades. 

*

you're laughing as you type, you still owe me a smile. 

you move up in the line, trying not to stumble over the shoes of the person in front of you, scowling when peter sends you a scowl back. 

not literally, of course. but it's been two minutes since he read the text, and he has not answered. 

which, you think, is very rude. 

is that a no? you type out. 

peter merely says: you owe me a song.

so you send him knee socks, by arctic monkeys. 

and you forget what to order when you get up to the counter.

*

peter begins to look for you before he walks around any corner. 

he's avoided that bench, thinking that if he gets too close, too soon, you will get bored. 

that you might've already after you sent him that song and he had nothing good to send you back. 

he's been thinking about it for the past couple of days. 

while he studies, and showers, goes to class, and swings from building to building, staring down at tiny people and thinking that one of them might be you. 

but you haven't shown up. peter thinks maybe you've been hiding out too. 

maybe worried because he hasn't texted back. 

but then he corrects himself; he can't imagine you worried about anything. 

still, he peeks around the corner before he moves, waiting for your cheeky smile and irritating laughter. 

instead, he finds a crowd of people that he doesn't know, and who don't know him. 

not that you do either. 

peter is listening to music as he walks. trying to pretend that there is no correlation between you and this song. 

he moves around the people, keeping his eyes low. he says hello to anyone who says anything to him. he smiles at strangers and reminds himself how to be polite. 

he thinks about how mean he's been to you, and wonders if it just comes naturally. 

and when he gets home, kissing may on the cheek and walking up to his room, happy to finally put down his backpack and all of the books in it, he's still thinking about you. 

thinking about the picture he's put on his wall, and your simple handwriting underneath it. neat and smooth, nothing like he'd expected it to be. 

he's thinking about you as he gets undressed, sliding on his suit and staring at the socks he's left on the floor. 

when you know who's callin' even though the number is blocked. . . 

peter shakes his head, kicking them under his bed. 

but, right before he leaves, he grabs his phone from his bed, angrily clicking on a playlist. 

and then he sends you another link, about a week later. 

and he doesn't have it in him to question it. 

*

you awake from your nap to a text. 

the name at the top of your screen just says "itsy bitsy," because you were a little bit delirious and thought it was hilarious when you put him in your contacts a week and two days ago. 

you almost smile at the notification, and then catch yourself. 

spider-man, peter, has sent you a link to love grows (where my rosemary goes). 

you click on it, smirking as you do so. 

and then two minutes and fifty-four seconds later, you finally text him again. 

are you busy tomorrow?

*

"you're my muse now," you say to him, pointing to a stool. 

you sent peter the directions to an art studio, about three minutes off campus, and told him to come at noon. 

it is 12:23 and you haven't stopped smiling at peter since he walked in. 

"any song suggestions?" you ask him, wide eyes and tilted head and that devious smile that runs goosebumps up his arms. 

peter clears his throat. 

"no," he says. "pick whatever," 

you asked him to pose for you. told him that he owed you at least that, if not some laughter. 

and peter disagreed, but didn't argue. 

and now he's not quite sure why. 

you put on some soft guitar music, going to a shelf in the corner of the room to grab something. 

"how's my bench?" you ask him as you move back over to him and sit on the ground. 

peter frowns. "i don't know." 

you pull out a notebook, scoffing. "you're telling me that you haven't checked it once in the past week?" 

"nope." 

"aren't you supposed to be like the protector of new york city, or whatever?" you blow some hair out of your eyes as you say it. 

"that typically applies to people." 

"except me," you grumble, under your breath. 

peter's lip twitches. 

"what are you doing, again?" he asks. 

"well, i figured since i drew spider-man, the least i can do is also draw peter." 

"you said i was a terrible statue." 

"you are," you laugh at him, "but you've got a nice face." 

peter pretends not to feel it as he flushes. 

"i won't show anyone," you tell him, "if you don't want me to. but it would be nice for my still art class." 

"so you are an artist," peter says, attempting to evade your subtle question. 

"only in my dreams. i'm also taking algebra, economics, and philosophy 101." 

peter frowns. 

"i'll declare next year," you tell him, frowning as you erase something. 

"as an art major?" 

you grin at him, but the peter that's on the paper. "wouldn't you like to know?" 

peter doesn't answer that. 

he watches you as you draw him, peeking an eye on the side of his face every couple of moments, and smiling when you catch him staring at you. 

"what's your last name?" you ask him, breaking the silence. 

another song plays, and peter still doesn't recognize it. 

"parker." 

you snort. "figures." 

his brows furrow. "what does that mean?" 

"of course, you would have a superhero-ey name." 

"what's yours?" 

"y/l/n." 

peter laughs. 

you frown. "what?" 

"of course, you would have an annoying-sounding name." 

you glare at him, but peter doesn't miss the twitch of your lip. "don't copy me, parker." 

"don't make it so easy." 

and you don't say anything back, instead choosing to focus down at the paper, but peter notices the little chuckle that falls from your mouth. the silent sneer in your eyes. 

"what?" he asks after it doesn't go away. 

"i think that was the first time you've actually teased me." 

you don't say the rest of it. and peter doesn't acknowledge how comfortable he feels, sitting on this stool as you stare up at him, watching you as you look back. 

"you can use it," he says, suddenly. 

"what?" 

"the picture. for your class."

you don't say anything, but nod in acknowledgment. 

and peter feels like an idiot as the silence drifts. feels like he shouldn't have said anything, shouldn't have agreed to this.

and the song changes again, a soft, melodic sound. 

peter almost smiles. 

"is this opera?" he asks, heavily judging you. 

you grin, dropping your notebook on the ground and standing up. you take a step closer to him, leaning in. 

"shut your mouth and see," you whisper to him. 

peter is almost offended, brows furrowed as he stares at you and how close you are. 

but then someone else echoes the words back, and you begin to dance, holding a hand out to invite him to join. 

peter does, memorizing the slow movement of your hips as he stands up, feeling like his limbs are heavier than they were only four minutes ago. 

and the two of you dance to only angel like no one's watching. 

peter listens to you sing the words under your breath. 

i must admit i thought i'd like to make you mine.

*

you are humming to yourself when you get the phone call. 

when your hand stumbles, pencil creating a harsh line over the drawing you've spent the last twenty minutes hating. you scowl at your hand, and then your phone, for interrupting. 

until you see peter's face on the screen. 

the picture you took of the picture you drew of him, scowling at you like he seems to do a lot of. 

you don't smile, but bite your lip as you press the little green button. 

"hello?" 

"hey," peter says, voice soft. he clears his throat. "what're you up to?" his voice is suddenly louder like he's using a microphone. 

you smile, glad that he can't see it. 

"just laughing at this picture of you." 

"from last week?" 

"yup." 

"really?" 

you roll your eyes, hoping he can feel it. "no," you drawl. "i was just working on something new. what's up?" 

"do you like movies?" 

*

after that, peter doesn't have to avoid you. 

he doesn't look for you around any corners, because you've already leaned forward, already allowed him to see your smile and guess what you might be thinking about. 

"hey," you say to him as you match his stride. "how was class?" 

"boring," peter answers, accepting the earbud you hold out to him. 

"of course, it was," you grin at him, "i wasn't there." 

and peter just barely laughs, feeling a bit light when you smile back, face full of some sort of victory. 

you play a song about being cold, and peter completely understands.

*

"i can't believe you got me to agree to this," you say to him as you open the door. 

you're wearing a dress. pretty and flowing and completely surprising peter, if his face says anything. 

"wow," he says, coughing. then clearing his throat. then coughing again. "it's--you look nice." 

you scowl. "i look terrible." 

peter just chuckles, looking down again, then at your eyes like he's forgotten something. 

you just glare at him, waiting for him to tell you that you don't have to come. 

but peter holds his hand out to you. "ready?" he asks. 

"no. because i'm not going." you try and close the door in his face. 

peter pushes it back, just smiling softly at you. 

finally, you understand why he's been so irritated and cruel to you. if your smile is anything like his, then his reaction is completely rational. 

"it'll be fine," peter coos, reaching a hand out to comfortingly--and condescendingly--rub your shoulder. 

"it's a banquet," you say, just barely getting the words out. "for science." 

"it's a party for engineering majors. i invited you a week ago and you didn't say anything--" 

"all of your teachers will be there," you correct him, staring daggers. "if there are adults there, then it's not a party. and you made it sound fun." 

"we're adults." 

"i'm an adult, peter. you are a child. you are childish for tricking me into this." 

"tricking you?" peter laughs, eyes gleaming. "i don't remember that part of the conversation." 

you, suddenly, smile sweetly at him. "i don't know if you've heard," you whisper, smoothly, "but this is going to be terrible." 

he grabs your hand, rolling his eyes. "it'll be boring, maybe, but not terrible. i'll stay with you the whole time." 

you frown. then say again, in the same, all-knowing tone, "i don't know if you knew this about me, peter parker, but i'm terrible at boring. or being serious. or talking to people." 

"you talk to me just fine--" 

"as soon as anyone says anything i'll start laughing. it's a nervous reaction, i can't control it." 

"i'll put a hand over your mouth." 

"that's a violation of my boundaries." 

peter snorts, "look, not that i'm not enjoying this--" 

you pinch his arm, shaking your hand out of his. 

"--but we're going to be late. we can talk about your chortling on the way there--" 

"chortling?!" 

"witch cackle, guffaw, whatever," peter corrects. 

"you are not making me want to go with you." 

"c'mon," peter whines, catching your hand again. "you're my plus one. everyone will think i'm a loser if i show up without you." 

"they already think that," you hiss at him, moving back again. "and anyway, i can't walk in these." 

you gesture down to the heels you dug out of your closet. 

it took you two hours to get ready, simply because you were stressed out enough to absolutely ruin every outfit you put on. 

"i'll die, peter," you say, staring at him desperately. "die." 

he raises a brow. "you can put on different shoes." 

"you're a man." you wave a hand, scoffing at him. "what do you know about fashion?" 

peter shakes his head. "okay, if your feet get sore, i'll carry you." 

you stare at him blankly. "i highly doubt that, noodle arms." 

the smile that appears on your face is one of satisfaction. 

but peter rolls his eyes and doesn't bother to correct you. 

"look," he says, pulling his phone out. "i brought my phone so we can listen to music. i'll let you pick." 

you look away from his eyes to the strand between his fingers. then back to him. "you promise?" 

"sure," peter says, almost snorting. "and anyway, i heard that there might be karaoke and you know that--" 

as soon as he says the words, you're turning around, grabbing your purse from the table by your door, and locking it. you shut it, reaching for peter's hand. 

"alright," you smile, easily. "let's go." 

peter laughs as you begin to drag him along. 

you sing along to sexy silk while you walk with him, just to keep the smile on his face. 

*

"hey," you say to him as you pick up the camera on his desk. "you didn't tell me about this." 

peter looks over, noting your frown and the furrow between your brows. he's sitting on your bed while you canvas his room, making fun of everything he's got in there. 

not to mention the way you almost died of laughter when you saw your drawing on his wall, telling him that he's a dirty little liar, then smiling a secretive smile at it. 

not that peter noticed.

still, he sits up, watching as you click on some button. 

"there are lots of things i don't tell you about," he says, smoothly, and smiles at you. 

your scowl grows. "you've got a camera?" you ask. 

and then, after peter doesn't bother answering that and another moment passes, your jaw drops. 

"you've taken pictures of me?" you demand, pointing to a moment he got a week ago, minutes before he met you for lunch. 

"that's not you," peter lies, and goes to take it from your hands.

but you pull away. 

"when did you do this?" 

peter hesitates for a moment, but he sees the look on your face. "last week." 

"why didn't i notice?" 

peter smiles. "because you are particularly unobservant." 

you glare. 

". . . and because i was about twenty feet away, and ten minutes early." 

"peter," you complain and whine. "why wouldn't you tell me about this?" 

"didn't want to steal your thing." 

"i don't have a camera." 

he shakes his head. "no, art, or something." 

"you're lying," you say, peering at him. "that's your lying face." 

he holds a hand to his chest, mock offended. 

but you don't say anything as you put the camera back on his desk, frowning at the window and avoiding his eyes. 

peter watches for a moment, at the pout on your face and how soft and smooth your skin looks. 

he thinks about you dancing and almost forgets that you're mad at him. 

"hey," he whispers to you, hand reaching out. "i'm sorry i didn't tell you. i didn't realize that you'd want to know." 

"of course, i want to know," you mumble. peter thinks you might be saying something else.

"well, now you do." 

"i also know about your ninja turtle underwear," you say, with a hint of a smile on your face. 

"yeah," peter says, standing up. "and you can hold it against me forever. i won't even complain." 

you look over at him, raising your brows. "really?" 

"mhmm." 

and then you purse your lips, pretending to consider it. "okay, i guess," you say, as a means to forgive him. 

and peter is glad about that. glad when you walk over to him, pushing his shoulder. 

"but don't do that again," you tell him, almost as a threat. 

"do what?" 

"keep a secret from me." 

peter almost winces, but decides to smile instead. "you already know all of them," he says, simply. 

and you smile back. 

he doesn't quite let himself believe that it's a lie. doesn't think about you being mad, or what you might do if you found out. 

he just sighs, reaching over you to pick up the camera. 

"do you want to see more pictures?" he asks you. 

and then delights in the eager way you nod back. 

*

you are humming along to the song playing from peter's phone as you doodle on the piece of paper in front of you. 

you don't know the name, but peter's played it often enough that you know the words. 

and, coincidentally, he's laying his head in your lap--claiming a headache--as you play with his hair. 

he is almost distracting you as you attempt to draw a pretty little spider on his bedside table. 

peter hums back, but it's not to the song. 

"what?" you ask him, pausing your hand. 

peter reaches up, moving it for you, and you snort. 

"okay, okay," you say to him, and scratch his scalp some more. 

"are you ruining my table?" 

"no more than you already have." 

peter groans, but doesn't bother to look up. you know that he knows that you're not drawing anything on it. 

you smile down at him, then get back to the tiny sticky note you found in his drawer. 

the pen you stole from the dining table downstairs. 

you sing to him, to yourself, and minutes pass, and the song changes. 

but you picked this one, and peter doesn't complain. 

"do you feel any better?" you whisper to him, refraining from calling him a big baby. 

"no. keep going," peter grunts. 

you scoff but listen. 

"look," you tell him, holding the drawing in front of his face. "do you like it?" 

"pretty," peter mumbles. 

but he doesn't even open his eyes. 

so you flick him in the nose, raising a brow. "you didn't even look, you idiot." 

"don't be mean to me," peter whines, "i'm in pain." 

"you refuse to take any medicine."

"you're close enough," he whispers, and you try not to feel anything at the words. 

"just one eye," you say to him, pulling at his skin. 

and peter relents, staring at the picture you've drawn for him. "are you trying to be funny?" 

it's a spider, sure, but a very hilarious interpretation of it swinging and falling off a building, and then, a couple of feet away, a picture of it being smooshed. 

you grin. "i think you should put it on your next suit." 

"i'll think about it," peter says, and closes his eyes again. 

you laugh at him and hope he can feel it. 

sing along to the song until peter falls asleep. 

i wouldn't fall for someone i thought couldn't misbehave. 

*

when peter wakes up, he's alone. 

he wonders when you disappeared and where you went. he aches for the feeling of your hands in his hair and your smile and laughter as he wakes up. 

it's dark outside though, so peter's glad that you're at home, at least, hopefully sleeping. 

he looks at the clock, frowning at the numbers. 

he sits up, head buzzing and blinking until he can see. 

and then he walks over to the bathroom, figuring that he should probably brush his teeth. 

and when he goes back to his bed, back aching and thinking about you, he notices the sticky note you've put on his wall, right next to the picture you drew of him. 

he smiles at it, glad you put it there, where he probably would've put it anyway. 

and there's another one, right next to your bed. 

you're lame and you fell asleep, it says, don't worry, you didn't drool. 

peter smiles, appreciating your handwriting. he puts it on his wall, right next to the other one. 

and then he texts you. 

when did you leave? 

you answer almost immediately: about an hour ago. 

it's one in the morning, and peter frowns. 

did you walk home alone? 

yup! 

he scowls, immediately dialing you. 

"hello?" you say, singing it. 

peter wonders how you have so much energy, but doesn't give himself the time to dwell on it. 

"you walked home alone?" he asks again. 

"yes, peter." 

"in the dark?" 

you hum. 

he's scowling, wishing you were there so you could see how serious he is. "don't do that," he says. 

"peter," you sigh, snorting a bit. 

"you shouldn't be walking home by yourself." 

"might i remind you that you fell asleep? who else was i going to ask at midnight? may?" 

"you could've woken me up." 

peter hears you laugh. 

"aw," you say, "but, baby, you just looked so peaceful." 

peter almost flinches at the words, because you're not being serious and still-- 

"promise me that you will, next time." 

you laugh again. "okay, peter. i'll uber home next time." 

"you'll wake me up." 

"please," you tell him, "i don't have a death wish." 

*

you are frowning as he sits in front of you, but trying not to. 

you're trying to keep a calm face and a smooth mind and repair peter without him figuring out a single thing about you. 

without getting into another fight with him. 

but he knows you, much better than you'd like. 

"what?" he whispers to you, the words soft on your cheek. 

he's got bruises sprinkled over his abdomen. a bright red cut on his cheek. a black eye and fingers that look more like pens than limbs. 

still, you're trying not to be too rough with him. 

trying to clean these wounds without opening up any others. 

"nothing." 

"you're frowning." 

"you've got a big cut on your face." 

he grabs your hand, stopping your movement as you dab at it. "you're frowning," he repeats, a bit louder. 

you sigh and look away. "peter. . ." 

"you're mad at me?" he asks, tilting your head back to him. 

you're three inches away from him, staring. 

and you don't even need to answer, because it takes one look from you, and peter nods. 

"okay," he says, turning his cheek so you can clean the cut again. 

you do. 

and you listen to his breathing, hearing your own heart pound in your ear, staying silent. 

there's not much you can say to him without wanting to scream. 

"are you going to tell me why?" he asks you, minutes later, when you've had to replace the water so it's not so cold. 

you hum. rub some ointment on the wound, apologizing when peter winces. 

"y/n," he says, tilting his head. he's smiling at you like it might get you to break. 

"you're not taking this seriously," you complain, closing your eyes. you move back, just for peter to move forward. 

"hey," he says, grabbing your hand again. his eyes meet yours. "i'm okay." 

"you're hurt," you argue, frowning, concern piercing your brows. "you had to come here so i could patch you up." 

peter swallows. "i wanted to see you." 

"no," you shake your head at him. "you can barely move that arm. you limped in here." 

"it'll be fine by tomorrow." 

you scoff. "but it's not fine now peter!" you whisper the words, but with enough force that he moves back, his eyes wide and his brow furrowing, as if he's just realized how serious you are. 

"you're really mad?" 

you shake your head, looking away from him. "i'm scared for you, and i'm mad because you don't even care. every time," you say, "you just brush it off. tell me that it'll be fine." 

"because i will," peter swears, trying to catch your eyes. 

"but what if you're not?" you ask him, just whispering the words, your voice breaking. "what if you come here," you look back to him, tears evident. "and i can't do anything to help you?" 

peter starts to say something, tries to brush the liquid away, but you flinch back. 

"no. what if someone else has to move the mask? what if they see you, but you're already--" you stop, not wanting to say the words. 

and before you can blink or breathe, peter has wrapped an arm around you, crushing you to his skin. 

he apologizes and holds you close, breathing slowly as you try to catch your breath. 

he whispers in your ear, rubbing your back. 

"i'm sorry," he says, "i didn't realize." 

and you know that. and you know that this argument isn't quite fair. 

"i promise i'll be careful. i promise, okay?" 

you nod against his neck, breathing him in. 

and a moment passes, and you try to memorize the feeling of being this close to him. 

and then you whisper, "you're my best friend, peter. i don't know what i would do without you." 

and it's only partly a lie. 

"i know," peter says, moving back so that he can look you in the eye. "i know." 

you try and smile at him, and he tries and smiles back. 

"okay," you whisper. 

and then you notice the small wince on peter's face. 

you frown. "what?" 

peter looks down to where your stomach has brushed against the cuts on his and clears his throat. "ouch," he says. 

you meet his eyes and laugh.

*

peter knocks on your door, waiting.

he hasn't seen you in a couple of days, and you haven't been answering the phone. 

he hears someone move around. hears a lurking at the door. 

"y/n?" he calls. "i can hear you." 

but you don't answer. 

so peter knocks again, checking his phone for any sign of you, and staring at the door. 

all he gets is a quick "read" message, and then silence. 

he sighs. 

"c'mon," he calls again. "just open the door, or text me, and i'll leave." 

but you do neither. 

peter scowls. "i'm not gonna go," he tells you. "i'll be out here until you are, and when i freeze to death you're going to feel really bad." 

he might hear a scoff, but the only thing that follows is some silence. 

he says your name again, leaning against the door. 

and then he scrolls on your phone, sending you another text. 

he hears your phone ring on the other side of the door. 

and he can hear you sighing because he's just sent you a link to door. 

there's a moment that passes, where peter is just a bit proud, and then you open the door. 

"that's not even what that song means," you tell him, glowering, but you let him in. 

peter just smiles at you.

*

you're drawing him again. laughing as he teases you and listening to a playlist that he's made for the two of you--promising that it was great and that you'd enjoy it very much. 

this time, though, it's a bit different. 

you haven't asked to draw him since that day when he met you in the studio and finally looked comfortable enough to sit still. you haven't wanted to push that line, again, because you knew that it would be different. 

and that last picture of him, well. . . 

it's not the same as now. not the same as peter is when he's smiling at you. 

when he's singing along to a song that he's chosen and rolling his eyes when you say something, or make fun of him. 

it's not the same, you know, because last time, it was merely some strange sort of attraction to him. some want, or need, or crazy, fantasy thing. 

but now. god. 

now you know peter. now you know what he looks like when he's upset, how he acts when he's scared, or what he cares about, or who he truly is, behind the mask. 

now you're in love with him and trying to hide it. 

unsuccessfully, you're sure. 

"how much longer?" peter asks you, spinning around in your chair as you sit on your bed. 

it's also different because he's in your room, messing with your things. 

"i've already told you, peter, that you can't rush art." 

"you're probably not even drawing me." 

you grin down at the paper. 

peter continues to sing, continues to flip through an old notebook of drawings. 

"you know," you tell him, just glancing up to meet his brown eyes. "i don't like this song very much." 

peter raises a brow. "really?" 

you nod, pursing your lips. 

and so he sings even louder. 

"a zero, zero," peter says to you, laughing. "now he's a--" 

you throw a pillow at him, smirking. 

peter frowns. "that's going to ruin the drawing." 

"so is your singing," you tell him. "stay still, peter." 

"can i at least see?" he asks. 

"not till i'm done."

and then the song changes, and suddenly, you're grinning at him. 

just like that first day.

*

as soon as peter hears the opening chords, he's cursing himself for putting this song on the playlist. 

for letting himself be manipulated at the thought of your smile, and funny laugh as you danced around to this one the first time. for allowing himself to give in to it. 

because your smile is nothing but evil. 

and suddenly, you're not drawing, but standing up, biting your lip. 

"hey, good lookin'," you croon. moving your hips and your shoulders and smiling at him because you just know. "whatcha got cookin'?" 

peter throws his head back and groans. 

but you're singing along, dancing around him, and whispering the words in his ear. 

"there's soda pop and the dancing's free," you whisper, the goosebumps much more than a physical reaction. 

and, really, peter's trying not to smile as he watches you dance. as he watches your smile ebb and flow and listens to your voice, to your accent as-- 

"--so we can go steady," you gesture at him, smiling sweetly. "how's about saving all your time for me?" 

you are a monster, an absolute devil as you pull peter up, as he goes so willingly, and begins to dance with you. 

his hands around your waist and yours wrapped around his neck and that goddamn smile. 

and your voice, and every single thing that you mean to him. 

"c'mon," you say to him, giggling. "dance." 

and he does. he can't stop. 

then, when the song begins to fade, and you whisper a last "how's about cooking something up with me?" he pulls you down to your bed. 

he's almost breathless and laughing at you as you try to squirm away. 

he's absolutely gone as you still against him, suddenly realizing where you are. 

that he's pulled you so that you're laying right against him. and, peter is three inches away from you, and he can feel your breath against him. 

he can see your smile as it almost fades. 

as you watch his eyes, but falter, and look down. 

down and down and peter's eyes follow. 

he's staring at your lips, and he almost doesn't notice it as he leans in, as your breath hitches. 

and he kisses you. 

finally. finally. 

he pulls you as close as he can get you, hand wrapped around your neck, and at the base of your head, and digging into you, and your hands are on his face, they are still and alive as you grip onto him just as tight as he's got you. 

as you pull him, push and pull his lips, and breathe into his mouth. 

as he finally feels all of you, and thanks god that you're there. 

and when he pulls back, almost disassociating, eyes wide, he's staring at you. 

he's listening to a song in the background but he doesn't know the words. 

he can't think at all, can't breathe with you right there. 

"i'm sorry," he whispers, as he suddenly remembers who you are and what you mean to him. 

but you--you smile at him. you laugh like you can't believe it. 

you look into peter's eyes and you see all of him. 

you shake your head, one hand drifting to your lips like you can feel something new. 

you laugh again. 

"peter," you whisper to him, and he's staring back. "do it again." 

if you were a waiting room, i would never see the doctor. 

*

more of them.

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch​ @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff​ @hollandweather​ @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan​ @valvlry​ @imthatcoolmom​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  

[harvardfineartslib]

New acquisition alert!

Here are a couple of new facsimile scrolls from a set of six-foot tall paintings depicting twelve beautiful women. These facsimiles recently arrived for the Rübel Collection at the Fine Arts Library.

The Yongzheng Emperor (1678–1735) was the fifth emperor of the Qing dynasty. When he was still a prince, he commissioned a set of paintings to decorate a screen in his study within his private quarters at the Summer Palace. The set comprised of twelve portraits of court women engaged in various leisure activities, whether sampling tea, watching butterflies or cats, reading, looking outside, admiring flowers, and so on. These idealized women are depicted in the high fashion of the period with accessories and ornaments, often situated within lavishly decorated interiors.

In the first painting, you see behind the woman a Ru ware style brush washer and a jade table screen. To her left is a red-glazed monks-cap ewer and a bronze zun wine beaker. All of these precious objects represent the opulence of the imperial household. (Source: ChinaCulture.Org)

This facsimile set will be a great resource for researching the design, costumes and accessories of the Qing dynasty’s court style, especially for women.

Twelve Beauties A set of a facsimile scrolls Original artworks are housed in the Chinese Palace Museum in Beijing.

[stonecrusherdrawsthearts]

WORLD OF HEROES R - The Bat Pack

A small collective of vigilantes who patrol the streets of Gotham and minimize the impact of criminal empires and metahuman happenstances. Originally just a single individual, they've since expanded into a small-scale league of crazies that, despite everything, might be what the city needs.

FEATURED MEMBERS

Batman - the original knight of Gotham and still the most well-known. His expertise and cunning has made him the most feared individual in Gotham, though only by the cruel and distasteful.

Robin - A long-time associate of the Batman, known for being flashy and witty but still not to be underestimated.

Batgirl - Nobody's quite sure if the Batgirl has merely changed costumes and strategies or has been taken up by new individuals in the time since she first appeared, but most people still know when you cross the Batgirl's path, you'd better make sure you're not up to anything.

Signal - The only known Metahuman in the Bat Pack, gifted with heightened supersenses, and usually acts as the group's sole day-walking member. Some could argue that he's just another one of Batman's sidekicks, but it seems the other members of the Bat Pack are accepting of him.

Red Hood - Who the Red Hood was before he showed up in Gotham is... honestly still a mystery. Of the Bat Pack, he's certainly the most brutal force to go up against, though it seems that he's been toning it down a bit since the early days.

UNFEATURED MEMBERS

Oracle - A mysterious individual who oversees the entire city, watching for any sign of trouble and alerting the Bat Pack to its troubles. If some rumors are to be believed, this Oracle has ties to the Batgirl identity.

NOT MEMBERS

Catwoman - a cat burglar who, due to a variety of circumstances, happens to be the closest thing in Gotham that Batman has to a true rival.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

play with fire

pairing: ethan landry x female!reader

WC: 1.7K

warnings: stabbing, blood mentions. should be it.

summary: intermission to act three

A/N: wrote this in one day so that may explain why it might suck and not make sense at parts. also had this song on repeat as i wrote and was inspire by the ethan edits that used this song. 

@alecmores 💗 (even tho they hate me for this one)

been in the drafts since may 6

masterlist / ethan landry

🎧 play with fire the red means i love you beast

the subway stations of new york were always packed and busy with rushing bodies, but with it being halloween, it was doubled and worse with people wearing costumes. many wearing the ghostface costume, and it felt like they all had eyes watching your little group of friends.

you are stuck near the back with ethan by your side and holding your hand. your group of seven was on the way back to the abandoned theater to lay a trap for ghostface and end this shit before more people die. you just gotta get through the next few stops in a crowded metal tub and hope you aren’t picked off one by one.

you could barely hear anyone over the loud talking and screeching of wheels. the crowds started to get thicker and your hand slowly slipped free from ethan. you stood still as your head swiveled left and right trying to spot his head of curls over the crowd. you pulled your phone from your back pocket and tried calling but you had no signal. with one more look around you finally spotted him with mindy who looked pissed by his mere existence, her guard never dropping around the boy, sticking to the thought of him being a ghostface.

you push past people, saying “excuse me” or “sorry” only a few times before not caring. you saw ethan’s head looking to where you saw mindy stalk towards and then his eyes looked around frantically.

you walked up behind him and grabbed his bicep. he jumped at the touch and turned around, his eyes alert, but melted away once he realized it was just you.

“was wondering where you went.” he pulled you into a hug. an excuse to have you close so as not to be separated again.

“where’s mindy?” ethan jerked his head to the left and you saw mindy who leaned forward and watched the two of you. you waved a hand for her to come back, but she shooed the two of you away. 

“what’s up her ass?” you grumbled. you felt the shake of ethan’s chest from his chuckle and could faintly hear the melody. “still thinks i’m ghostface.” he spoke beside your ear as he rubbed your back.

moving your face away from his chest, you looked up at ethan whose eyes dimmed just a little at the thought of his friend not trusting him. “well i don’t. and mindy is always judging people, it’s the ‘horror expert’ thoughts.” 

ethan flashed a quiet smile, it was there and now it’s gone. you tugged his chin with two fingers before pulling him in for a distracting kiss. as you pulled away you kissed the tip of his nose before turning in his arms, back to his chest. the two of you, plus mindy, just waiting for the next train.

it finally pulled up after a few minutes and you moved with the crowd. mindy continued to stay away from both of you and you narrowed your eyes toward her. “isn’t it best to stick together?” you would have asked her if you could move without someone elbowing your ribs. ethan and you weren’t too far from mindy who leaned against a door as she stared down at her phone. ethan held the metal bar that was attached to the ceiling while you stood in front of his chest with your hand grasping the metal pole beside you.

everyone was swaying with the momentum of the train going and then stopping. some people would get off then more people would crowd the small space. you could barely see mindy at this point and you still had multiple stops to make. you leaned your head on ethan’s chest and focused on his heartbeat, it sped up just a bit and you smiled tenderly.

“i wish you stayed home.” you heard ethan beside your ear. his tone was a bit strained.

with a tilt of your head, you stared into his eyes. his honey-brown, homey eyes. made your insides melt like ice cream on a hot summer day and your legs turn to jelly. “if we stick together, our chances are higher. plus, i can’t leave you. rather get a few cuts and bruises than worry a hole into my floor about your well-being.”

you let your free hand play with ethan’s curls. his eyes closed at the sensation, at your touch. you loved the pull, the power you had over him. the hand moved from his brown tresses and slid to hold his cheek in your palm. pushing up on your tiptoes and dipping your eyes to his lips, ethan closed the distance. he let go of his backpack strap and slipped it around your waist and tugged you in closer.

noses were pressed to cheeks, lips were getting slick with spit and hands were leaving burning touches. you hummed into ethan’s mouth as he got a bit brave and moved his tongue into your mouth. you snaked your arm around his neck and locked him in place, not wanting the moment to end anytime soon.

you saw the flickering of light behind your closed lids and even with your hearing picking bits of ethan’s moans, you could tell no one would hear a thing. releasing the pole, you wrapped your fingers around the sturdy handle and slipped the knife from your pocket slowly. you made sure to keep the weapon concealed as you decided to take a breath.

glistening lips only an inch away, breaths fanning over the skin and smiles beaming, and eyes shining like stars in an open sky. you kept ethan close. “i love you.” you whispered, but knew he heard you.

“i love you too. can’t wait for this to be over.” and ethan moved back in.

you smiled into the kiss as did your boyfriend. it did have to end, but you wish the relationship didn’t. all part of the plan though as you reminded yourself from backing out.

with ethan distracted, you took the plunge and sunk the gleaming knife into his abdomen. you heard his gasp and felt his mouth move. you made sure to keep him enclosed with your arm still tight behind his neck as you swallowed his grunts of pain.

“it’s okay. it’s okay, baby. the worst hasn’t even happened yet. just breathe.” whispered to his ear as you pushed his head onto your shoulder. you felt his arm flex and his hand grabbing the material of your shirt.

“y/n…” your name was a cry from his mouth. the one you kissed just a second ago. you had to shut the sound from your mind. “i wouldn’t scream for help. kinda noisy.” a hard edge to your voice before dropping it and switching back to airy and light.

“you know,” you kept talking to continue the look of a normal couple being sickly in love on the subway, “you were supposed to die in the apartment, but i couldn’t do it. i love you way too much for you to go in a brutal way. plus i wanted to spend our last moments together and in fantasy.” you petted his hair.

you tugged the knife upward, ripping his stomach open. ethan’s groans of pain were muted by the chatter and music playing from a radio. you placed kiss after kiss to his temple. wanting him to know that you cared for him deeply, but the plan always came first.

“i’m sorry, ethan. you weren’t originally part of the plan, but then anika changed her mind. some bullshit about how if her love interest dies, mine should as well.” you rattled away. you made a pass of the car, no one was paying you any mind. not even mindy.

“now,” your voice dropped lower, “you may be wondering, ‘why are y/n and anika ghostface?’ well simply put, boredom… maybe a psychotic.” at the word psychotic, you twisted the knife and you groaned as ethan sank his teeth into your shoulder.

“it’s fine, baby.” nails scraping his scalp, “i know you hate me, i know. and i understand. i would hate me too. i just want you to know,” turning your face closer with your lips brushing the shell of his ear, “our whole relationship… it was one hundred percent real. every kiss, every touch. every word i moaned in bed or shouted when drunk. the whole nine yards.”

your eyes got teary and the people around you got blurry. your heart ached, felt like it was starting to sink to your stomach. while your brain was telling you to man up and finish the job. you slammed your eyes shut and heaved a shaky sigh. you didn’t want the lecture from anika about weakness.

“y/n…” ethan’s breath skated over your neck. you just hummed as you rubbed his shoulder blades. “i’m just… disappointed.” his chest was heaving with each word. “but i still… love you.”

the announcer prepared everyone for the stop. with tears sliding down your cheeks you noticed an empty bench behind the two of you. with ethan leaning on you, you pushed both of your bodies backward until his knees bent and he slumped down. you sat on his lap to cover the knife and blood staining his blue polo.

“i have to meet our friends at the theater. don’t want to be late for the big show.” lips meet his moist forehead. “i have to pull the knife out just before the stop. but if you would just allow me…”

you tilted ethan’s face back to yours. his skin was losing a bit of color and his lips were being stained a light red from the blood pooling in his mouth. “one more kiss?” you dived in before ethan gave a nod or a noise. your smooth lips clashed with his that was beginning to pool with blood. you moaned at the taste and scent. fingers curling tight in his coils.

the loud screeching of wheels was followed by the sway of bodies. and then you heard the swoosh of the doors opening and the thundering of multiple footsteps. you yanked the knife out and pushed off ethan’s lap. joining the swarm of moving bodies and blending into the crowd even though you guessed mindy still wasn’t paying any mind. you couldn’t help the smirk that appeared out of thin air when you thought of the fate she was about to meet at the hands of quinn. you immediately headed out the exit and up the steps.

time for act three.

...

tags: @astrxq

[honey-minded-hivemind]

I noticed almost all of our feral! Readers are based on predator animals. Bats, cats, and bears (oh my), so why not a Reader who's a prey animal?

Like Goat! Reader.

They got those classic faun style bottom half with hooves, fur, and tail, rectangle pupils that are just a bit unnerving, and even little curling horns coming out of their head!

They eat like a goat, too. They got a preference for greens, grains, and goat milk based dairy, but they'll eat just about anything. This includes things that aren't food like cans, much to everyone's concern.

Their mutation is a good bit easier to hide than Kurt's without an image-inducer. Beanie for the horns, glasses, or contacts for the eyes, and big baggy pants for their legs and hooves. They went as Mr.Tummus one year for Halloween, and the English lit teacher gave them extra credit for their "exceptionally crafted literature inspired costume." (They just wore a red scarf.)

Reader ain't no slouch in the physical department just cause they are prey either. They run just as fast as the other ferals, and those horns aren't just for show! They got a headbutt that can break bones and a tackle that can knock Piotr off his feet. The school's football couch has been hounding them to join since they knocked Duncan on his back during PE back in freshman year.

Like all goats, their horns fall off in the winter and regrow in the spring. It's considered a right of passage in the mansion for someone new to freak out their first winter cause Reader came into the kitchen with blood trickling down their forehead and their horns gone. Don't worry, Hank bandages them up every year. Logan hangs up their old horns in a hallway like trophies. Visitors think he's into hunting or something, but no, he's just keeping track of his kid's growth.

Their tongue is extra long too! So sometimes they just let it flop out of the side of their mouth . The yans think this is adorable and take pictures whenever they can.

They can walk on any wall that isn't a perfect 90 degrees, which looks really weird from an outside perspective.

Their hooves and horns need a little extra care. Conditioning and polishing and cleaning. So the yans are sooo nice to help them with all that! Hope they aren't too much trouble, they would hate to be a bother.

On occasion, they bleat just like a goat. It happens mostly when they r asleep or if you startle them. Scaring them isn't recommended to hear it, however, cause their legs lock up afterwards and they fall over. Kurt has done this hundreds of times and feels awful each time.

They still got instincts like the other ferals. They'll huddle together for warmth, rub their scent in everything, and make a "nest" in their room. The more prey ones are a natural aversion to danger. If they aren't on a mission, they are running away from the scary stuff. They are on constant high alert, an ear always open for potential threats.

Obviously, their favorite game is Goat Simulator.

Haha! Goat mutant Reader would be one tough bby!

Their horns are curled and have weight to them, and they can ram someone down or stomp stomp with their hooves, they can even scale brick walls, rock walls, or any surface that isn't 90 degrees! They can eat almost anything (except Kitty's cooking, that didn't pass over well). They can charge and run fast, they can pull a lot of weight, and they're cute and awesome to boot!

They bleat in their sleep, when they're scared, and when they're happy! All of the yans want to hear it, and do everything they can to do so. If someone scares Reader at school or tries to bully them, the teens are all stepping in, especially Kurt, Scott, Todd, amd Evan, who don't like their friend being picked on for anything, and don't want them to get hurt. The teens and adults like helping Reader but their horns and polish them and keep them clean, they don't mind helping Reader with their hooves if a rock or nail gets in them, and Logan hangs their horns up and is very proud of how big they get each season.

Reader is friendly, laid-back, energetic when it comes to food and running around, and they like climbing everything. No one messes with the younger teens, or Reader runs them down. Duncan better step off, or Reader will headbutt him hard enough he sees stars! If the teens need help with cooking, Reader offers assistance. If anyone worries about their appearance, Reader will try to cheer them up.

And yes, Reader was rewarded for their Mr. Tumnus costume (which was just them in a red scarf and carrying a pan flute). No one can really top them when it comes to costumes. Except they always dress as a goat...

(They wear babbgy pants, boots, a beanie with pins or that are colorful, they like sweaters and sweatshirts, and they like wearing bracelets, especially cool or cute ones)

(Haha, @sugar-soda, I love them! They're so cute and kick*ss and awesome! If you want to come up with a predator feral Reader as well, I'm okay with that, too! But goat Reader is so awesome! Which mutation did you want to explore next? And yes, it's officially canon, thank you for suggesting this, that no matter what mutation Reader has in the au, there are several students who have crushes them, and none of the platonic yans like that at all, and neither does Reader)

[tepkunset]

Rating all* the Hellfire Gala 2023 Outfits in my Correct Opinion

*At least, all that I can find, because Marvel decided fuck making that easy in a little book or a single post like last year.

(Long post alert!)

Iceman, I love most of this look. The accented orange is perfect for the mostly blue look, and I love that he has a matching earring for his cuff-links. Such a nice touch! But those rubber boots, man... those rubber boots ruin it for me. 8/10

Fisk is giving off some Doctor Doom vibes with this outfit. I love the regalness of it, especially the golden leaves behind the ear. 9/10

??? I'm not sure who this is, but their outfit looks like they're going to a Halloween party rather than a gala. 3/10

Emma, oh my god, YES. Almost always delivering, and this is definitely one of those cases! 10/10

Xavier... I hate to say it, but I genuinely love this look. He's bringing major space man vibes, and it's super elegant at the same time. 9/10

Bishop doesn't even get points for effort. He got a red suit then slapped some belts on it. Boring as fuck. 1/10

I was about to write another "???" because I had no idea who this was, until it occurred to me that I think this is supposed to be Scarlet Witch? Except she is super duper whitewashed, so I did not even recognize her. Auto-failure regardless of the look. 0/10

Proteus looks moderately snazzy, but out of the Five is the least interesting in my opinion. 3/10

Egg has a cool coat, but those balls around his neck are way too big and awkward. 4/10

Hope looks a little like a fairy princess here, and I like that! 7/10

Tempus looks like she's going to a prom more than a gala, and I don't know what's going on with that giant shoulder piece. Did Cable lend it to her or something? 4/10

Elixir, my golden boy, is embracing the shiny and I love it! 9/10

Exodus seems to be trying out a new costume rather than a gala look, but in terms of style, it's fine. 5/10

Vision's outfit is as boring as he is. 1/10

Miles, holy shit. Miles should be giving lessons to everyone else on how to actually make a suit look unique! Bishop, take notes. 9/10

Old Laura looks like she's dressed for a gothic funeral more than a gala, but at least that's to her style rather than some crazy OOC look. So, points for that. 5/10

T'Challa... I. Am. Swooning. I know he's not a king right now but damn does he ever look like it in this outfit. The beautiful patterns and complimentary colours, holy shit. 10/10

Synch has certainly done way better in the past. It's just a plain black suit without a shirt, for fuck sake. 2/10

Captain Marvel looks like she's a marching bad, lol. The stars in the hair are a nice touch, though. 3/10

Jean's look is, I know, divisive. I've seen some people say they adore this design, and some people say they hate it. I'm personally on the fence. I think it would be better without the stupid helmet, that's for sure. And I think it looks a little too much like an Emma Frost design, if you were to just colour it white. 5/10

Fantomex? Where the fuck have you been? Anyway, he literally just looks like he always looks but with some sunglasses lmfao. 0/10

Dylan looks like a moody teen as ever, lol. I do like the black and white though. 6/10

Black Cat... Like I said, I like black and white together, but this is giving me too much Cruella de Vil vibes. 4/10

Mary Jane just picked up an evening gown off the rack I guess. 2/10

Firestar, I think? Not actually positive if it's her. Anyway, the sleeves are a bit too much for me, but I love the fiery frills on the cape. 5/10

Thor looks so ugly here lmfao I'm sorry but I hate this look. It's way too clunky. 0/10

At first I thought this was Kwannon, but then I remembered seeing panels and I believe it's Kitty/Kate. Anyway, I like the lace-up boots and I like the frills. 7/10

Hellcat looks like she's took some inspiration from a wrestler's pre-fight look, and I like that. It's simplistic but just enough stylish to pass. 6/10

Nova, going with a tits out look as well I see. I like the feathered shoulder pads, and I like the skirt. 6/10

Moon Knight, oh my god, I have a strong feeling it was Steven who pulled the strings to get a gala look, because there's no fucking way Marc or Jake would be caught dead there. Anyway, this is exactly the type of vibe I would expect from MK, maybe even a bit more playful than that with the mesh part of the top. And I really like it up until the strange boots. He and Iceman must've compared notes or something. Still, 8/10

Psylocke - now THIS is Kwannon for sure! I like the classical ninja meets evening gown look, and I like that she's sexy but not to the point of being objectified, which is a refreshing change for how artists often treat her. 8/10

Destiny and Mystique I will rate together because the score is the same: A what the fuck level of 0/10.

Forge looks fucking awesome, especially compared to last year. I love the fringe and the scarf and the jewellery and the cane... it's a complete look that gives me great vibes. 8/10

Cyclops, come on, man. You can do better than this, can't you? He looks like Mister Sinister dressed him or something. 1/10

Cuckoos look like they stepped off the set of Tron: Legacy. Or a Daft Punk concert. Not complaining to be clear, this look fucks. 10/10

[minniethemoocherda]

You Are The Weapon I Choose: Chapter 2

A/N: I've seen Deadpool & Wolverine now and OMG??!!!! And thanks again to @pkmndaisuki for being my beta reader! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

The ride back in the blackbird was one of the most awkward of Morph's life.

The girl -Laura- still hadn't woken up yet from whatever had been forced into her body.

Outside of that tank, Morph noticed how the definition of her young muscles were sunken against skin that wad almost as grey as there's. Her body had been trained but it must have also rarely been allowed to see the sun.

It was no wonder why Logan refused to let go of her. That infamous animalistic urge to protect on full alert. Even as Beast clearly wanted to check her over. 

"We can't help her if we can't touch her." Morph remined Logan, as the only one currently being allowed to talk to him without getting stabbed. They placed a hand on his shoulder, and despite being over thirty thousand feet in the air, through the blood strained yellow of his costume they could feel themselves grounding him back to reality.

Logan jerked a nod. Although he still refused to let go of the girl.

Cautious yet curious Beast did his best to examine Laura, detecting no obvious wounds recent or otherwise leading further evidence to the theory that everyone had already come to.

Then Beast jammed a needle into her arm and all hell broke loose.

If Beast wasn’t so used to getting the fuck out of dodge when a previously unconsciousness Wolverine starts swiping at him, he'd have gotten his arm slashed off.

Laura sprung free of Logan's grasp. She crouched on the blackbird floor, claws drawn and teeth bared in a snarl.

For a moment nobody moved.

Then Laura leapt for the controls.

Storm was flying the plane. Scott's powers were useless on it. Rogue couldn't get close enough to use her powers without getting stabbed first. And Beast didn't fancy getting swiped again.

So Jean thrust Laura back towards Logan. He grabbed her around the middle. Her claws shredded through Logan's skin faster than he could heal. The blackbird's black floor was soon stained red as Laura screamed and thrashed at the group of strangers that taken her from the only concept of a home she had ever known.

Morph didn't want to cause Laura any more pain then she had already been through. But not everyone had a healing ability that would allow them to survive a crash. So they shifted into Luke Cage, their skin now impenetrable to her claws as they helped Logan to keep her from stabbing the plane's metal.

In the end Jean had to blast her brain to knock the girl out and Morph couldn't even be mad at her for it.

The blood sample Beast had nearly gotten them all killed over, revealed what they had all expected. That Laura was Logan's kid. Albeit as a clone as opposed to the traditional method.

Which raised a whole new bunch of questions on who these people were and what else they had done.

But that didn't matter right now.

The priority was Laura.

Who had made another escape attempt when they had arrived back at the mansion in the early hours of the morning. Thankfully a telepathic conversation with the professor had appeared to convince her that they weren't going to treat her however those previous people had.

Morph, along with the others had come to the collective conclusion to give Laura and Logan space for the rest of the day.

Morph heard the numerous crashes and yells from all areas of the mansion for the rest of the day but the place hadn't burnt down yet so they assumed the pair of them were doing alright.

It had also given them more time to come to terms with the fact that Logan had a kid now because holy shit Logan had a kid now!

Which given the fact that the guy was over a hundred years old the possibility of him having a kid wasn't exactly zero. But if Logan had ever previously impregnated someone, he didn't remember it. And Morph and Logan had only been dating for few weeks so the discussion of having kids hadn't exactly come up yet but Morph doubted Logan planned on doing so on purpose anytime soon.

Not that Morph had ever really given thought about having kids themselves. They did like kids and had been surprisingly popular with them when the X-Men has first made themselves known to the public. Theoretically they could have one with Logan the old fashioned way, but that would require having to consciously shift themselves a womb for nine months which would be a lot more difficult than Mystique giving herself a dick for a couple of rounds of sessions of love making with Destiny to create Nightcrawler. Not that they particularly wanted to force the pain of existing in this fucked up world onto a new life in the first place. They would rather bring joy and comfort to the unfortunately staggering number of children already out there who needed it. But no one in this day and age was ever going to a let a gay, non-binary, mutant adopt.

So the idea of them having children had always felt more like a fantasy, a break of happiness for them to daydream about as opposed to something that was actually possible.

Then again, they used to think the same when daydreaming about Logan so maybe it wasn't a complete impossibility after all.

They had gotten so lost in their thoughts all day that they hadn't realised how late it had gotten until they glanced at the newest alarm clock in Logan's room to discover that it was midnight.

Morph assumed that Logan must still be trying to settle Laura down for bed. Which given her earlier behaviour wasn't a total shock.

Looking for an excuse to check in on the pair, Morph grabbed the spare set of bedsheets from their room. Well technically they weren't exactly spare, but they hadn't exactly been used much since Morph had been spending most of their nights in Logan's room. Something that Morph could still scarcely believe, even though they had been in a relationship with the man for a while now.

Morph was startled out of their thoughts by the door of Laura new bedroom before they could even knock.

Logan stood on the other side of the doorway, purple shadows under his blue eyes and Laura dangling off his arm from where she was currently biting into his bicep.

"Everything alright?" Morph asked, unable to stop themselves from staring at the sight.

Logan groaned, grabbing Laura by the scruff of her neck from his other arm. He yanked her free, seemingly not caring when she took a chunk of his biceps with her.

"I said no biting!" Logan ordered, holding her by the scruff of the neck and pointing the finger of his free hand at her. She then tried to bite said finger.

"Alright that's it!" Logan growled marching over to the bed and dumping her on it. Laura growled back, crouching up against the pillows by the wall, claws drawn.

"Now go to sleep!" Logan demanded, exhaustion seeping into his voice. For once he actually sounded his over a hundred years of age.

Laura shook her head. Morph noticed that she was still wearing the medical gown that they'd found her in and that the old nightdress Jubilee had kindly donated was on the floor in shreds. Along with basically every other thing in the room. 

Well she was definitely Logan's kid, Morph couldn't help but think. Not that there was any doubt.

Morph shared a quick look with Logan. Whilst neither had telepathy, they had always been able to communicate without words.

Logan stiffened, his eyes darting to the still protruded edges of Laura's claws, even though they both knew that they couldn't hurt them. After a moment, he nodded.

With permission granted, Morph placed the sheets besides the remains of the nightdress before they slowly perched on the end of the bed. Laura quickly shifted her focus to them, for the first time properly taking in their presence.

It was strange to see the blue of Logan's eyes in one so young, especially when they held the same amount of trauma. And Laura may not have been Morph's kid but in that moment they knew that they would do anything if it meant that she would never have to feel that pain again.

"Not a fan of sleeping either huh?" Morph smiled. Laura made no outwards response that she had heard them. Regardless Morph kept on talking. "You know your Daddy rescued me too."

By the inquisitive tilt of her head, it was evident that she did not, which wasn't that surprising considering the fact that before the past twenty-four hours she didn't know that life existed outside of that hellhole of a compound. But Morph couldn't think about that without getting extremely pissed so they moved on.

"He promised that the bad man who had captured me would never take me again. And he was true to his word. Because your Daddy is the most over protective worry-wort I know." Logan snorted. They ignored him. "However, he can't stop any bad thing from ever happening. Sometimes, my nightmares hurt me too. But he can stop the bad man from hurting me. And I promise that he won't let the bad people hurt you again."

Morph felt a strong hand grasp their shoulder. They glanced up to see that over protective resolve on Logan's face and couldn't help but smile.

Out of the corner of their eye, they saw Laura take a curious look back and forth between them.

A minute later, she finally put her claws away. Although she made no move to actually get into bed.

Luckily, Morph had one idea left.

"One time, I was so scared of going to sleep, that your Daddy stayed up all night to protect me." They could still remember that night. The feeling of Logan's arm around them. Hands that had taken so many lives used to hold them close. They had never felt safer. "Nobody here will let anyone hurt you. But if you like, me and your Daddy can keep watch outside your door, just to sure?"

Morph watched as Laura thought their offer over. They released the breath they hadn't realised they'd been holding when she eventually nodded her head.

Laura didn't get under the covers but she did lie her head down on the pillow. Morph decided to take that as a win.

"Goodnight." Morph said as they collected the pile of sheets. They elbowed Logan who grunted out a 'Goodnight' too. "We'll be right outside if you need us."

Laura nodded and finally closed her eyes.

Morph took one long last look before they closed the door behind them.

As soon as it was shut, Logan collapsed against the door. Morph rolled their eyes. And Logan called them a drama-queen.

Still they arranged the bedsheets into a nest on the floor before sliding down the wall to sit next to him.

It was wild to think how much had changed since the last time the two of them had slept like this.

Time-travel. Resurrections. Not to mention the fact that they were actually dating.

And now there was Laura.

It was still the early days of their relationship with Logan. And Morph knew that the two of them would need a have a serious talk about the extent of their involvement in Laura's life sooner rather than later. But if Logan was willing, then Morph would be honoured to be a part of it.

"You're good with her." Logan said eventually. There wasn't any jealously in his tone, just resigned statement of relief, as though he never expected anything different.

"Well I do have experience in wrangling Wolverines." Morph teased, nudging him.

For once Logan didn't respond to their joke. He stewed in silence, those bright blue eyes refused to meet their empty grey ones.

Morph cupped his cheek, slowing turning his chin as they stroked their thumb through his soft sideburns. Logan finally looked them in the eye and Morph had never that shade of blue look so vulnerable.

"Hey," Morph whispered. "You've only been a parent for twenty-fours hours. Nobody is expecting you to be the perfect parent right away. For some people it takes eighteen years to learn. And some never do. Take my Dad for example. But you're trying, which is a hell of lot more than some people."

"I just I... I never thought I'd have ... this." Logan stammered, gesturing vaguely towards Morph and the door.

Morph knew what he meant. After the death of their mother and the rejection of their father, they never thought they'd have anything resembling a family again. Then they joined the X-Men, became best friends with then started dating Logan, and found Laura. And now they were finally letting themselves believe that they might have one again.

"Well you're stuck with us now so you're going to have to start getting used to it." Morph told him. It was smaller than expected but they finally got that smirk of a smile on Logan's face that they had been aiming for. "I'll take first watch. You get some sleep."

For once Logan was too tired to argue for stubbornness' sake and rested his head against their shoulder.

Within moments Morph heard the soft rumbling of snores. They smiled. Who would have thought that all it would take to tire out the great Wolverine was one little girl.

Well, a little girl with knives for knuckles and more trauma than anyone that small should ever have to contain.

But they had seen Logan comfort Jubilee, holding her close as she dealt with the horrors of the foster system. Or watched as he let some of the random kids they'd saved use his body as a climbing frame. And experienced first hand how he would go to the ends of the Earth to protect the people he cared about.

Morph knew that Logan would be an amazing father. They just hoped that one day soon, he would see that too.

[laufire]

several sentences sunday

I asked for people to send me key words so I’d share excerpts from my WIPs where they appear. I decided to post them all together, for this weeks SSS :P

@gecemi09 asked for the wip guessing game, 'died'?

Taken from my (Jay)Mia fic set a few years down the line in the new earth continuity. The plot so far is basically 1) Mia’s character development, 2) Jaymia romance LOL. This was inspired by tt03 #31, where Mia displays some knowledge of past Teen Titans that leads me to believe she really did her research.

The second Robin hadn’t died as a Teen Titan, the way Aquagirl or Phantasm did, but Mia had once read on him and his time just the same as on the others. He’d revealed himself as Red Hood to other heroes shortly after Mia’s debut on the team, when he came to size his successor up in the Tower, and Mia had thought that face-heel turn more tragic than what Brother Blood did when he paraded the corpses of the other fallen teens. She thought about it, now. Robin had died. It was something she never could quite wrap her head around with Ollie, who she’d meant fresh out of the grave and by all accounts largely unchanged. It was somehow easier to do it with Jason; when death changed nothing, it was rendered meaningless. After all, that was the reason why, every year, Mia made sure to remember Albert Davis.

@hellispeacefullandempty asked: Gonna give you fire and sorrow for the WIP guessing game

For fire, have something from my Jason Survives series (which I’ve named “No Death in the Family”, Because).

The first thing Jason felt once he finally woke up was the phantom licks of the fire on his skin. A pained whine escaped through his lips, alerting whoever remained in the room with him. “Ja- baby?” a woman’s trembling voice said, “Are you awake?” Sheila’s palm burned against his wrist.

And for sorrow, something from my Jaytim Ghost WIP.

In his dreams, Tim was the one burrowed inside Jason’s costume, Jason’s body. Instead of standing in front of the memorial, from the outside looking in, he was trapped inside the glass. Immobile, on display, a mute scream tearing through his throat in abject sorrow.

@missbrunettebarbie asked: For the fic game: power

From my Jason & Duke Wild West Adventures WIP. BTW, I consider it… roughly in the same timeline as this one, and other “future canon” ideas where I have some character developments set in stone (in this case, Duke’s introduction in the preboot continuity + his dynamic with Jason), but they’re meant to stand on their own.

“Don’t you think it’d be a waste to kill someone to save me, if by doing so you fuck up the timeline so much there’s nowhen to go back to?” Duke snarked, almost perfunctorily. In matters that concerned Duke, Jason had always made his priorities clear. As reassuring as it could be to know where he stood with the man, Duke always resented such displays of one-sided overprotectiveness. Maybe, especially, from Jason. He seemed too busy to reply, examining the stolen guns with a conflicted expression. If Duke had to guess, Jason was divided between mourning the loss of modern functionality and appreciating how fucking cool the cowboy aesthetic looked on him. “We don’t know shit about how this works, kid,” he finally answered. “The timeline could splint, or we might’ve always been meant to come here and do whatever it is we end up doing. A bullet on your head? We know how that works. Besides, all that is moot point until we find someone with the power to take us out of here.”

thanks to everyone who sent an ask ^-^

[tact-and-impulse]

Shinkane Week 2024 Day 1

@shinkaneweek, thanks for giving the perfect prompts for this superhero/vigilante AU occupying my work-exhausted brain 😛

Day 1: Urban

From the other side of the door, Akane could sense his presence. She entered anyway, the cool air of her apartment washing over her face. She maintained the impeccable holo overlaying her crimson bodysuit, but dropped the half mask.

His pointed mask was also absent, the laceration on his cheek was encircled by a deepening bruise. The dark armor-like quality of his costume was at least intact, better than before. He gave a strange smile. “Lady Justice.”

“Please, don’t. Kougami-san, what happened?” She turned away, retrieving her medical kit. If she were a telekinetic, it’d be much easier to summon, especially with how often they met like this.

“A scuffle for information.” He winced when she pressed the antiseptic wipe to his skin.

“And did you find what you needed?” She immediately regretted the sharpness in her voice. It had been a lengthy day, with additional meetings and public events that Sybil’s favored leader of elite psionics could not avoid. And it was always complicated with Kougami; she knew her own mind would be an emotional storm to any other telepath.

“Akira’s gone missing.”

She froze. “Kei’s older brother?” The Russian born brothers had the same familial ability of psychic shields, but while Kei was one of her new Bureau colleagues, Akira walked the vigilante path, just like Kougami had decided six years ago.

He nodded, grimacing now. “No trace at all, not even a scrap of fabric I could use for detection.”

“Was he still following the new lead?” She asked carefully. Technically, she shouldn’t have been aware of his group’s extrajudicial pursuit of the Peacebreakers. However, they were past the point of secrets between them.

“Yeah, he was. The rest of us split to cover more ground, but I ran into two of the targets. They got away, but they mentioned someone called the General. Have you heard of them before?”

“Never. Then again, the last knowledge of the Peacebreakers on my end was from Tibet, and in a report. I’ve been solely occupied with domestic affairs for a while.”

A flicker of understanding crossed his expression, and then, his callused fingers caught her chin. “When was your last break?”

Akane swallowed hard, her memory failing at his touch. She was glad his psychometry didn’t extend to people, or his mind would be flooded with the reminiscence of a small humid room in Shambala.

The sounds occurred simultaneously. The trill of her wrist alert, and the vibration of his alarm. A nearby disturbance, so they’d be working together for the moment. Now, the storm cleared to excitement.

“It’ll have to wait. Let’s go.” She hastily said, stepping to her balcony. She noticed the lock was intact and frowned as she prepared the flight mode on her boots. The evening wind carried her words. “Isn’t this where you came from?”

“No.” He had the gall to smirk and tossed a shocking statement before he rappelled off the ledge. “I still have the spare key you gave me last time.”

***

They perched on the roof of the invaded high-rise building. From the street surveillance footage, the trio of disrupters were climbing the floors with clear intent. As Kougami secured his grappling hook, he casually inquired. “Fifteen minutes until the Dominators arrive?”

“Ten. We can use delivery drones now.”

“Now, I’m the one with outdated info.” He meant it as a joke, but she still felt the sore twinge of his departure. “In the meantime, I’ll go first.”

Akane opened the telepathic bond between them. They had done this so often, that sharing their thoughts wasn’t overwhelming at all. Be careful.

Same to you. With the hiss of the tensile wire unraveling, he leapt to break in.

She counted the seconds before taking a deep breath and slowly descended into the bright city. Flashing news banners, advertisements for mental care, the small red sirens drawing closer. The people, bustling and conducting their peaceful lives. And despite everything she’d experienced since she first joined the Bureau, her resolve to protect them had never faltered.

Lady Justice soared into a combat scene.

Smoke obscured the floor, one person knocked unconscious. Kougami was trading brutal, efficient blows with a muscular man; the other one, struggling to get up from a broken table, unsheathed a dagger. Akane started with a psychic tap, a self-defensive maneuver that was typically enough to bring a person to the ground. However, he seemed unaffected, mechanically standing and raising his arm. Left without recourse, she broke the wall and peered in his thoughts.

Pure static.

She reeled back and shot a message to Kougami. They’re brainwashed.

Her usual methods of telepathic communication and persuasion would not work. Unless she found the higher psionic in control, she was stuck until the Dominator arrived to measure Crime Coefficient. She pushed the limits of her telepathic range, but her strength was in intensity, not distance.

Explains their complete silence. He whirled, the dagger wielder sinking his blade into his comrade’s shoulder. He cracked their heads together, the sound nauseating, and Akane glimpsed blood pouring down their faces as they went down.

Abruptly, she received comms from Karanomori and Hinakawa. The drone was on its way, and Arata was the closest, but was she alright? She refrained from mentioning Kougami, though she could sense his amusement through the bond. He picked up the dagger with a gloved hand and paused.

Akane!

She startled, but he was already grabbing her waist and sprinting to their entry point. They plummeted, the urban lights blurring, before the explosion blew out the glass walls. Her boots activated, operating at full power to carry them through the air. Her arms tightened around him, her face flush against his mask.

When they landed in an empty alleyway, they disentangled and she put on a brave face. “That was close. Thank you.”

He cleared his throat, his gaze singularly on her eyes. “You don’t need to thank me. As many times as you need me, I’ll be there.”

Flustered, her gaze fell to the dagger, secured in his belt. “Does that belong to Akira?”

“It seems familiar, but I’ll examine it. Later.” He amended, with the sound of approaching sirens. The Bureau would arrive in minutes, and he retreated into the darkness, Lone Wolf once more.

“Yes.” She reluctantly shuffled backwards, her heart aching. “I’ll catch you next time.”

A short laugh escaped him, as his grappling hook clicked in an overhead spot, and his voice faded. “Looking forward to it.”

Akane straightened, walking to the illuminated street. They’d chosen different methods, but as long as they both desired to protect this city, they’d meet again.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Sugar And Bitter-Spice

《Candyland Au》

《A sweet new adventure begins today!》

《Warnings: the subject matter this ARG has are potentially disturbing. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Welcome Home was created by Clown @/partycoffin 》

-

You feel your saliva dribbling down your mouth, gazing at the items shown on the window display case. The smell of sugar and hell, possibly sunshine, was all you could smell in this candy-coated place.

A small jingle alerts you from your daydreaming as a familiar face steps out.

"Oh! It's you, neighbor! How's it going?" Howdy says, his colorful, sparkly gummy form waving at you.

Maybe he was a gummy worm instead of a caterpillar-like...

"Hi, Howdy, just crusin' by!" You walk away, the hunger in your stomach becoming even more unbearable. You should have eaten something before heading outside for the day.

"(Y/N)!"

Brighter than the sun, Sally runs up to you. Dramatically gasping for air.

"Dear friend! You must help me!"

The sugar-cookie star exclaims, "I had asked Wally to finish painting the finishing designs on the stage set for my newest play! But I don't seem to know where he might be, and I have to check in with Julie for costumes."

The star headed, shaped cookie wailed, "I need you to check in on him, for me, please!" Sally begs, you feel your insides turning. But not it guilt.

"O-Of course, you can count on me!"

"Wonderful!" Sally briskly walks over to Julie's house as you made your way to the center of the neighborhood.

The red frosted gingerbread house sqeaks at your presence. Alerting the owner to appear and greet you happily.

"Ah, neighbor! I'll be right out, let me just get what Sally wanted." Wally says from his porch, asking Home to give him a hand.

-

[Another Au! I had too! I was playing candyland and it hit me! Also, would the characters also be types of candy or treats? I was thinking Julie could be a jelly bean monster, and Frank Laughy Taffy?? Not sure, let me know! Tag me if you want to see more of this au!]