#this is literally the best thing ive ever had the fortune of laying my eyes upon

[thefangirldownthestreet]

💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝

Platonic kamibaku?

They’re my favourite dynamic in the whole series. My god I love these 2💗

He’s secretly the mom friend Denki, so of course he’s listening💗

Also, Bakugou, please don’t shove your deadly palms in Denki’s face.

Bonus:

Denki pulled a Midoriya and went into fanboy mode.

[quietepics]

                                      ♡ · 　INTRO.　 * .  IV / ?.

           oh lawd she comin.           hi gang !  i’d like to introduce my new kiddo ,  layla blanco .  she’s a granddaughter of tyche and eris ,  and she’s a bit chaotic but in a different way from theo .  i’d say her chaos is calculated heheh .  also this is a very quick and short intro but i just wanna get it out and done with bc im gonna be busy tomorrow rip anyway ,  hope you enjoy !

THE BASICS

name:  layla cornelia blanco nickname(s):  lay ,  lays .  somebody pls call her lucky charm she’ll be so annoyed . birthday:  april 13th, 1996 ethnicity:  white latina ( argentine - british ) birthplace:  california , usa gender identity:  cis female sexuality:  pansexual / panromantic powers:  disruption ( eris )  /  probability manipulation ( tyche ) mixtape:  she’s my colllar ( slowed ) / gorillaz ,  people i don’t like / upsahl ,  daisy / ashnikko ,  walk you home / sir chloe ,  talk show host / radiohead  character inspiration:  nanno ( girl from nowhere ) ,  beth harmon ( the queen’s gambit ) ,  layla by derek & the dominos ,  veronica sawyer ( heathers ) ,  yumeko jabami ( kakegurui )

THE MUSE

layla’s parents met in nemean lion years before her birth ;  a daughter of tyche and a son of eris ,  the two fell in love during their time at nl and though it’s been long since their last visit ,  the campus has been a second home to layla ever since she was little  ---  for safety reasons ,  of course .

from a very young age ,  layla knew that she was special .  her parents made a conscious effort to make sure the girl never lost sight of who she was and what she could do ,  and to always use her abilities for good .  her father was particularly cautious of that ,  seeing as his daughter had the same capabilities for discord as he did ,  and knowing how much trouble he caused during his first few years at nl .  because of that ,  layla has never felt out of control when it came to her abilities ;  in fact ,  it was quite the opposite .

while her father’s side of the family was a bit more troublesome ,  her mother’s side was incredibly fun !  ever since she was a child ,  layla found herself interested in everything that had to do with luck ,  probability and chance ,  which eventually led to her fascination with one subject in particular: gambling .

around the age of twelve ,  she began gambling around nl .  at first ,  the bets were little and simple:  a pack of gum ,  a snack from just dough it or a meal at jake’s diner ,  things of the sort .  at worst ,  she’d use her disruption power to make the loser unable to control their gifts for hours ,  which might have led to a little trouble a few times . however ,  as layla got older ,  the bets started becoming a little more extreme ,  often including large quantities of money .  naturally ,  people lost interest in the games ,  especially since they were going against a granddaughter of tyche ,  and layla decided it was time for a change  ---  so she left nl for a while .

during her time away from campus ,  layla made money .  a lot of money .  poker and any other form of gambling had quickly become her favorite pastime ,  mainly because of the thrill of betting and risking it all ,  except she never lost to anyone .  not because she used her powers to win ,  as the mere thought of rigging the games angered and disgusted her ,  but because it simply never happened .  it could be frustrating at times ,  especially after people in the business started digging up information of her .

years after making a name for herself in casinos around the world and in the public poker scene ,  people started learning more and more about layla ,  who’d kept her godly heritage a secret until now .  eventually ,  information leaked about the girl and on how one of her grandmothers was the goddess of fortune ,  which resulted in people calling layla a scammer ,  removing all sponsorships and opening multiple lawsuits against the girl ( which didn’t end up terribly for her ,  but that didn’t help fix her reputation either ) .  

half a year ago ,  after her little scandal and as means of keeping herself out of trouble ,  layla returned to nl for the first time in a long while .  she’s been keeping herself busy by working in the business department ,  striking big deals that bring in money and “playing” with the stock market .  she swears she’s never cheated or rigged any game in her life ,  but until someone or something is able to prove her innocence ,  you won’t be finding her gambling anytime soon  ---  at least not in the public eye .

MISC.

she is so ,  so smart .  above average IQ ,  definitely one of the best students in nl history besides the athena kids lmao .  oh ,  and she definitely loves to remind people of just how smart she is .  kind of a snob tbh .

knows a lot and has dirt on lots of people .  she’s literally one of those people who just ends up eavesdropping on accident and then laughs about it .

s t o n kS.

she can play any card game ,  and most classics like chess ,  checkers ,  even eastern ones like shogi or majong .  on the other hand ,  she hates most “modern games”,  except for monopoly and clue / cluedo.

she legit never rigged any of her games ,  not even when she was tired and bored from winning so much .  in fact ,  there was a time she purposefully indebted herself so that the games would become more exciting  ---  after all ,  she needed money .

kind of a hard person to befriend ?  she won’t approach you unless you’re doing something she judges weird or a waste of time ,  but she will engage into conversation if you seem “smart enough” .  again ,  she’s a bit of a snob .

kinda self destructive but shhh lets not go there just yet 

will prank people by messing with their powers without them knowing .  homegirl’s been bored okay this is how she keeps herself entertained besides stonks .

GIVE ME ALL THE PLOTS !  i’d like for her to have an actual friend who cares about her well being and wants her to get her shit together ( and she obvious cares about them in return ),  someone she simply Does Not Give a Fuff about and has no problem saying it, an ex lover / ex fling ( could be super interesting considering she was gone for a bit ig ) ,  some sort of frenemy ,  some “ healthy competition “  of sorts ,  anything and everything !

[vicekings]

Ooh, ooh, how about 38 with JD and Toki? (Gointothevvater 🖤)

@gointothevvater

38. relieved kisses

“He’s in rough shape, but he’s alive.”

Toki could’ve cried at the announcement from Charles. He’d been pacing the length of the meeting room for the last hour, waiting with bated breath to hear something, anything, about JD’s condition. Nathan had tried and failed to get him to sit down a couple of times. Pickles had offered him a sip from his emergency flask, but Toki turned it down. His mind was muddled enough without adding alcohol to the mixture.

“The doctor will allow one person to visit him tonight.” Charles continued. “He’s worried that all of you at once will stress JD out, and he wants him to be able to rest so he can recuperate.”

The boys looked like they wanted to protest, but a firm glare from Charles kept them quiet. “Can you decide amongst yourselves who gets to visit JD without any bloodshed, or do I have to draw a name from a hat to keep things fair?”

“Tokis should go.” Skwisgaar said without hesitation. “JD ams only goings to worry mores if he does nots sees him.”

Pickles nodded in agreement. “Skwisgaar is right. The last thing JD saw was Toki getting grabbed at by those Revengencers— you know he’s not gonna let himself rest until he knows that Toki’s safe.”

“Probably gonna worry himself up another bullet hole.” Murderface muttered.

“You are alls sure? I knows I ams nots the onlies one worried about him.” Toki said softly.

“Just fuckin’ go, Toki, before you pace a hole through the meeting room. And you tell his stupid ass that if he takes another bullet for me, he’s fired!” Nathan growled.

Charles rubbed at his temple and sighed. “Nathan, that’s literally his job. You can’t fire him for being a good bodyguard.”

“Goddamnit, just… just tell him to get better already!” Nathan snapped.

“I wills.” Toki replied with a nod.

He glanced at Charles, a look of quiet determination on his face. “Can you takes me to him?”

———

Laid out in his hospital bed, JD looked so much paler than Toki had ever seen him before. There was a patch on JD’s shoulder where the bullet wound had been attended to, several IVs hooked up to him, and a computer monitor showing his steady heart rate. Though he appeared to be sleeping initially, JD opened his eyes when Toki approached and took a seat in the bedside chair. JD offered him up a soft smile.

“Heya, Tokes.” He greeted.

Charles noted the sudden uptick of JD’s heart rate on the monitor before clearing his throat. “I’m going to go speak with the doctors again. You two behave, alright?”

“Yessir.” JD replied.

When Charles left, JD tried to sit up. Toki threw all pretense away and gestured wildly for him to lay back. “Nonono yous needs to lay! Yous needs to gets better!”

“Whoa there, it’s alright!” JD chuckled, putting his good hand up in submission. “I’ll lay back down, no need to worry ‘bout little old me.”

“I thoughts you died, of course ams worried!” Toki hissed in frustration. “You ams gotten shot for us!!”

“Gonna take a lot more than a bullet to put me out to pasture.” JD tried to shrug, only for his injured shoulder to make him immediately regret it.

Worry flashed over Toki like a bolt of lightning. “Do yous need Toki to gets the doctors?”

“Nah, darlin’, I just gotta not forget they just pulled a bullet outta me.” JD replied with a lazy grin. “Unless you wanna go find me a sexy nurse to kiss it better, best we can do is just wait it out, and I’d honestly prefer if you stayed a bit longer, just so I know you—“

He was cut off by Toki standing up from his chair so he could lean in and kiss him squarely on the mouth. Though the sudden screaming beeps from the monitor made Toki start to pull away, JD’s little desperate whine as he tried to sit up so he could kiss him in turn pulled him right back in. JD raised his good arm so he could cup Toki’s jaw in his hand.

If he wasn’t recovering from a gunshot wound, JD would’ve pulled Toki into his lap and thrown his arms around him. God, he wanted to. He wanted Toki’s warmth against his chest, confirming that Toki was alive and alright and his heart was still beating. JD settled for the kiss as the next best thing.

Toki’s lips were soft. They tasted of his strawberry chapstick and sweet iced tea. Fuck, JD could’ve kissed Toki for the rest of the night if Charles and the doctors hadn’t barged in. Toki pulling away from him to glance guiltily over his shoulder felt like being shot all over again.

“I thought I told you two to behave.” Charles stated coolly, though he couldn’t quite hide his smirk.

“Sorry, Charlie. I’d tell you it won’t happen again, but I ain’t in the habit of lyin’ to ya more than once a year if I can help it.” JD replied.

He wasn’t even trying to hide his grin. Charles gave him an exaggerated sigh and turned to the doctors. “Is it possible at all to get a cot in here for Toki for the night? I doubt we’ll be able to get him to leave JD’s side.”

“We can arrange that.” The taller of the doctors replied.

“Very well. Try not to get too worked up, boys. I’ve got to get back and see to the others.” Charles announced.

The shorter of the two doctors fixed Toki with a firm look when Charles was gone. “I understand your relief, Mr Wartooth, but I will not allow any… funny business… in my infirmary. If you insist on riling up my patient, could you at least keep it above the neckline? It wouldn’t serve to injure him any further.”

JD couldn’t help but find it adorable when Toki blushed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Fortunately for you, you just won her fifty bucks, so she’s not kicking you out.” The taller doctor informed Toki with a chuckle.

“What was the bet?” JD asked, though he had a suspicion as to what the answer was.

“Nothin’ much to worry about, sugar.” The taller doctor replied.

“It was about who was gonna kiss who first, wasn’t it?”

“…mayhaps.”

Toki’s embarrassment was washed away by the warmth of JD’s laugh. It left him feeling nothing but love and relief. JD was alive, and he’d kissed Toki back, and he was reaching out to grasp Toki’s hand in his with a cocky smile. That was all that mattered.

[champagnetoasts]

Marlowe’s birth story

Her sister arrived 12 days early. Labor was a short 8 hours. An epidural happened only after realizing I was 9cm dilated and baby girl was positioned sideways. Palmer was born in March 2015 -- almost 2 weeks early and at 8 lbs, 1 oz. 

As Marlowe’s due date approached in spring of 2018, I prepped almost everything in March with the asterisk of **I might not actually be there**. Work events, Palmer’s 3rd birthday party... Everyone told me that each baby writes her/his own story and I was fully prepared to go until April 2nd (her due date) and after if that’s what this baby decided to do. However, I felt hugely unprepared with Palmer’s early arrival and I didn’t want to end up in that same boat -- with a full plate at work and a toddler at home. I did have a “special” picked for M’s birth; a midwife that I picked to be by my side as my daughter was born. I picked someone that was tough, no nonsense, and that I knew would be brutally honest with me (and not sugarcoat things during my labor). I was so excited to have her as part of my birth team. 

I started having intermittent contractions on Sunday, March 25th. They weren’t at all regular and one of my midwifes, and dear friend Beth, said to drink plenty of water and try to relax as much as I could. They continued to progress until I finally called my mom on Monday (the 26th) saying-- THIS COULD BE IT! She came up to be on hand to help with Palmer and support us only to have the damn things pitter out over the next 24 hours. False alarm indeed. Mom headed home. The next day (the 27th) at my appointment, my midwife discovered that Marlowe was OP (occupant posterior) or sunny side up and that the contractions were likely baby + my body trying to get her flipped into optimal positioning for delivery. She said to lay off the high heeled shoes and take it easy. We determined that my last day at the office would be that Thursday (March 29th) after an Easter Egg hunt. Wednesday afternoon I treated myself to an intense pedicure and charged the nail tech with getting me into labor. There was also another gal at the salon that was due the same day I was-- 4/2.

The next morning I woke up and felt some dripping. I chalked it up to any number of things that can happen during pregnancy (we don’t need to actually go there) and went on with my morning. Finally I got to the center (where I work) only to have the leaking continue. “Something isn’t quite right here.” I told one of the midwives, Angela. She insisted it was worth a check though it was unlikely anything was happening. After a check and the FERN test, we concluded that my water was leaking. HOLY COW- IT’S TIME!!!

After a reassuring NST to check baby’s vitals, I called my midwife (who also, fortunately, happened to be on call that day) and along with Angela we made a precise game plan for that day (I was only 2-3cm dilated at that point). Because my water was ruptured, I had about 18 hours to get active labor kicked into gear or they would have to induce me with pitocin/ something similar at the hospital. My goal for this birth was medication free so being hooked up to a drip was the last thing I wanted. I called Blake to tell him it was go time + alert him to head to the center. He also was instructed to pick up castor oil before he got there. I then called mom + Blake’s mom to inform them of what was going on and to ask for help with P. She had an Easter Egg Hunt at school that afternoon and I was brokenhearted thinking she wouldn’t have her parents there. I then dissolved into tears thinking that I hadn’t dropped her off at school that morning thinking it would be the last time I saw her as an only child. Hormones, y’all. 

I waddled around the birth center for the next couple of hours. Blake arrived around lunchtime with castor oil + a chocolate milkshake. He dosed me with 3 ozs (the recommended dose is 2 ozs) because if 2 was good, 3 was better. I drank that greasy shake and paced around the parking lot. All I wanted to do was keep moving. Eventually we headed to a local park to walk around the pond until -- er... the castor oil kicked in. We then called Mandesa, my midwife, to meet us back at the center to have me checked. I was really feeling contractions and wanted to be sure I was close to hospital/ center given how quickly I progressed with Palmer Jane. 

We arrived at the center around 3:00 and waited for Mandesa to do an exam. After a membrane sweep and a check, I was about 4 cm dilated and progressing to active labor. We decided to head to the hospital. We got checked in and had to briefly wait for our room. I finally got back to my room shortly after 4, got changed, and was hooked up for 30 minutes of monitoring before I was allowed to move around the room. Mandesa also had to give me one dose of Zofran because I was so sick and she wanted to try and keep some food/ fluid in my stomach to avoid having to get an IV. Being hooked up for monitoring and having to lay on the bed during contractions was MISERABLE. 

As soon as I was allowed, I moved into the water of the tub. The warmth felt wonderful and I labored there for about 45-50 minutes. They brought dinner in for me and I managed to choke down a roll or two and a chocolate chip cookie. And about 34 cups of freezing cold apple juice. I was having what seemed to be constant contractions due to Marlowe being OP. 45 seconds of intense contractions-- 10 seconds of a break -- and then 45 seconds of intense contractions. Eventually I got too hot in the tub and decided to move onto the birth ball. 

I remember the next hour or so as a blur. At one point they hooked me up again to monitor Marlowe and I briefly considered ripping the nodes off of my stomach because it was so uncomfortable. But the last thing I wanted was to end up back in that damn bed on my back. Eventually I looked at Mandesa and said “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I might have 2 hours left in me.” Mandesa said then she knew I was in transition. I asked to get in the bed and try to close my eyes. She agreed but insisted I lay on my side and prop my knees opened with the peanut birth ball. Fine. I didn’t have the energy to argue. 

I was in that position literally for 10 minutes when I looked at Mandesa and said “I either have to push this baby out or I’m going to poop.” She laughed and asked if she could check me. Baby girl was coming! I remember her looking at me and saying “I need you to really push your hardest. She’s almost here and you’re doing so well!” That’s all I needed to hear- challenge accepted. Let’s get this baby girl earth side!

I pushed for 5 minutes before Marlowe made her appearance into the world at 6:47 on Thursday, March 29th. On my daddy’s 70th birthday. 7 lbs, 4 ozs and 20 inches long. She came out wearing her cord as an accessory. She needed a little coaxing before her first cry- who can blame her?! That was one hell of an arrival! She latched almost immediately and has been our little love ever since. And just like that my heart doubled in size. 

How we picked her name? Woodford is a family name -- my name before marriage was Elizabeth Woodford, my aunt is Alice Woodford, and my grandfather’s aunt was also Alice Woodford. We both loved the name Marlowe though we had a MUCH harder time picking names for this sweet babe than we did with Palmer Jane. Just like PJH, we heard this name from someone and after narrowing down the list from 135 options to 10, to 5, to 2-- this just felt like the best option. I will say I think it fits her quite nicely. 

photo taken the morning of 3/29 before I knew I was in the early stages of labor

Meet Marlowe Woodford / March, 29th 2018 

[galaxystony]

fortune’s fool: peter parker IV

peter parker x reader

multi-part fic based off of a twitter post which I won’t link until the end so as not to spoil anything :-) Each part can be read individually or as a series!

A/N: I’m sorry, I know I said I’d have this up on Wednesday, but I’ve had a ton going on this week, and I really wanted this part to be really good for y’all, so I spent a bit more time on it. I’m most proud of this installment so far. I hope you enjoy. Also, the marriage pact trope begins! Ahhh!

requested: nope

Words: 3800+

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of death

summary: Two Empire State University students fated to meet, but just out of reach

let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list!

requests are open!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | masterlist

4. Spaces

25 y/o Peter, 23 y/o reader

“Peter, we won’t ever stop being friends, will we?”

Peter looked up from his chemistry textbook at his best friend who was sprawled out on top of the covers on his bed.

“Duh,” he responded simply, turning back to his book. “You know I couldn’t survive without you by my side.”

She smiled softly, closing her eyes and leaning her head back to allow the sun that shone through the window to paint the length of her neck with its speckled glow. “Good,” she replied.

After a moment, she said again, “Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s never lose touch, okay? Even of you have to move upstate with the rest of  the Avengers and I have to move to the middle of nowhere. Like, Indiana or something.” She eyed him through one open eye as he turned and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You planning on moving to Indiana any time soon, babe?” He cocked an eyebrow, his lips turning up in a half smile.

“It was just an example,” she said defensively. “But I’m being serious. You have to promise me we’ll never stop talking to each other, no matter what, okay?”

He was smiling fully now as he got up from his seat and jumped up onto the bed, laying his full body over the length of hers as she giggled wildly. “As long as you want me to keep talking to you, I will, smarty pants.”

Then he leaned down, pressed a kiss against her forehead, then got up and returned to his work as she continued to giggle softly from her spot on the bed.

-

It had been two years since she moved away. 

“I have to take care of my dad,” she’d said. “He won’t eat or sleep if I don’t make him. I’m scared of what will happen to him if I’m not there watching over him.”

It took her only three days to pack all of her things and move out of their his apartment. Three days to remove all traces of her being, not just from the home, but from Peter’s life, too. Three days to leave Peter floundering with his head just above the water.

“I need space,” she said. “I need to be able to learn to live in a world without my sister.”

He supposed he understood. He’d spent months after his uncle’s death isolating himself from the people he loved. There was nothing, nothing, he knew, that he could do to help her. She needed to heal alone. That’s what agonized him the most; that he couldn’t do anything for her no matter how much he wanted to.

And so she left. And he gave her space. And now it’s been two years since they’d spoken.

Two years, one month, and seventeen days, his mind supplied as he watched the city move below him from his perch on the roof of his apartment building.

Even after she left, he continued with his nightly rounds. He was worried, at first, about how he’d handle everything without her. She used to be the one to fix him when he came back after a particularly late night, agonizing over his latest slip-up. She always knew the exact words to say, words that no one else seemed to have. What would he do now?

It was May who gave him the idea to start journaling. She was always insightful, always knew better than she should about everything. She knew, even if Peter didn’t yet, that he’d loved Y/N, and she supposed that losing her was the equivalent of May losing Ben.

“Just write it all down,” May suggested. “That’s what helped me most after your uncle. Trust me, Peter. You don’t want to keep this bottled up inside.”

He protested at first. What would he even write about? What would he say? He thought it all felt a little… middle-school-girl-ish.

It was only after an especially rough night where he returned bloody and crying uncontrollably, missing Y/N more than usual, that he actually took May’s advice. He took a pen to the first blank page of his journal, and suddenly the words Dear Y/N were flowing from the tip, and he found himself unable to stop writing until his hand was shaking and stiff, and tears were smudging the blue ink, spreading it thin over the lined paper.

It wasn’t the same as actually speaking to her. He knew that. But he also knew that if he didn’t get the words out now, right now, he never would, and then he’d be forever stuck in his mind stewing over what he’d done wrong and what he should’ve done.

He hadn’t meant to get so stuck on her. He knew he had to move on from the girl who lit his darkest nights, a soft but persistent glowing ember that he thought would never fade. Two years without her, though, and the darkness was all he had left, like an old friend that always stuck in the outskirts of his mind, never straying far from sight, no matter how much he wrote. He was resigned to it now. Accepting of it.

He tried, though. He tried his best to forget her, but how could anyone forget that radiant sun that had cloaked so much of his life with its glow?

It didn’t take him long after she left for him to realize he was in love with her. It was inevitable, he guessed, and looking back, he didn’t know how he hadn’t realized any sooner. It was so obvious now, that they were forever entangled, souls interlocking so tight that he knew he’d never love anybody like he loved her.

And so he stayed in Manhattan in that tiny little apartment that should house two, but now held only one lonely soul and the big, gaping hole that she left behind, and he waited.

He lay awake all night waiting to hear her keys jingle in the lock of the front door. Sat solemnly at the kitchen table glaring at her obviously empty seat. Watched his phone constantly, begging it to light up with a message just so he’d know she was okay.

Nothing ever happened. No matter how hard he stared, he couldn’t will her to walk through the door or text him back.

That made it easy for him to start hating her. He knew it wasn’t fair, that she wasn’t his to keep in the first place, and that she was an independent woman capable of making her own decisions, but he also thought it wasn’t fair that she’d leave him alone when she knew how much he relied on her. He hated himself even more for thinking that. How selfish did he have to be to want to try and take her from her family when they needed each other much more than he needed her?

The hatred didn’t last long. Nine months in, and he was left with was a funny feeling in his heart that maybe she wasn’t coming back, but maybe there was also nothing he could do about it. He hoped she was doing okay, though.

He knew that she should be nearing the end of med school if she’d decided to continue schooling at home. He hoped she had, that she didn’t give up her dream. When she was still finishing her bachelor’s degree, he remembers her internal battle over staying in the city for school or moving back home.  

“Empire State’s such a good school, but I wouldn’t mind moving home for a bit. Stony Brook has a great med school, too,” she’d said.

“You have to stay here, babe. What would I do without you?” he remembers himself saying. How utterly selfish of him. Who was he to decide where she went to school? He originally felt a smug sort of pride when she finally decided to stay in Manhattan. Now, he could only wonder how different her life could have been if she’d gone back to Long Island. Maybe her sister would still be alive. He tried not to think of that very often.

He thinks there’s no way she wouldn’t have kept going to school at home. With her grades and study ethic, she would’ve gotten into Stony Brook easily. She’d come too far and had too much to lose to quit so easily. He knew, like everybody else knew, that she had one of the most brilliant minds of anyone their age. Quitting seemed like too much of a waste of her intelligence.

He hoped and prayed that she was alright. He knew how overwhelmed she’d get when the work started to pile up, that she’d work and work and never sleep until her body literally shut down. He hoped she had someone at home who would make her stop and rest, a job he used to happily call his own.

As he crouched on the roof lost in thought, his eyes absently skimmed the empty street, hoping that each taxi that approached would be her, dipping his head in thinly veiled disappointment when they continued past the building to some other, more important location.

He found himself distracted these days, especially during his rounds. He knew he should’ve been giving it his full focus, but he just couldn’t. He constantly had an eye out for a flash of her shining hair, a corner of her favorite coat, the smallest whiff of her perfume. Anything to prove she was back and she was still real.

He felt like he was going crazy, like this was his rock bottom, and everyone around him could tell. Ned and MJ would eye each other, sharing concerned glances after each time he faked another smile. Mr. Stark would lecture him after every botched mission that was a result of his unfocused mind.  May would try and coax his feelings out of him every once in awhile when she noticed that the journaling just wasn’t cutting it, but she never got more than a halfhearted shrug and an “I’m fine”.

“She’s okay, sweetheart,” May would assure him. “She just needs time.” And he’d nod in agreement, but once he got home, he’d lay in bed and wonder exactly how much more time she needed. He knew everybody was concerned, but there was nothing he could do to stop his worrying.

“It’s been two years, Pete. She’d want you to move on. Can you imagine what she’d say if she saw you like this?” MJ asked once when she’d caught him watching his phone instead of engaging in conversation with her while they were at lunch.

“Probably something about kicking my ass for putting her feelings before my own as usual,” he mumbled in reply.

MJ smiled and grabbed his hand over the table. “Exactly. You need to think of yourself now. It’s what she’d want.”

He started to get better little by little after that. He hung out with Ned and MJ more frequently. He spent one day a week after work at the Daily Bugle (who knew his personal journaling would end up helping him land a job as the writer for the advice column?) talking to Tony about what he went through in his other job. Most importantly, he began to open up to May about Y/N.

No one, he knew, would ever take her place, and some days, he felt like he was only using the others as a substitute until her return, but deep down, he knew that he was starting to heal.

His head snapped up when he heard the sound of another car approaching, this time pulling up to the curb. He watched closely as the passenger door opened, a foot stepping out before the door opened even wider to reveal its owner.

Time seemed to stop. He was no longer breathing, his heart turning violently inside of his chest. It was her. It was her. He still couldn’t breathe. He pinched his arm hard, praying that he wasn’t dreaming. The resulting sting told him he wasn’t.

He reached to pull his mask off, yanking it roughly over his head as his eyes widened. It was her. He could tell, analyzing her familiar movements as she pulled a suitcase from the car then waved it off after paying the driver.

Go to her! his mind screamed at him as she looked up at the building, clearly not seeing him, before she picked up her suitcase and unlocked the heavy wooden door with her own key.

He sat stunned and unable to move. She was here. She was home. She was back and she was okay and he didn’t know what to do.

Go find her, idiot! that little voice repeated, and he shot up, racing to the very edge of the building and jumping without a second thought, shooting a web at the fire escape just outside her old window and pulling himself up without a sound.

He slid the window open and swung in, seeing her still-dark room empty of any movement. He moved silently through the apartment and sat at the kitchen table in his usual spot, still wearing his suit without the mask.

His ears perked up at the sound of keys in the lock, a sound he’d been waiting for with bated breath for the past two years. His eyes were still trained on the door as it opened and she stepped in, and he got up from his seat to help her out of her jacket, just like he had so many times in the years before.

She turned and smiled softly in that secret way of hers, like it was saved just for him, and wrapped tight arms around his torso, pulling him close to her and burying her face in his chest, just like she used to.

He responded belatedly, his mind still trying to process the fact that she was here and he could feel her, solid and sure. He enveloped her in a hug, leaning his head down to rest it in the crook of her neck as he inhaled her scent, something that had been gone from his apartment for so long that he almost couldn’t remember it at all.

“Welcome back, smarty pants,” he whispered into her hair.

He could feel her crying, warm tears seeping through the fabric of his suit. He knew he probably was, too. They stood there for a while, wrapped up in each other and trying to make up for all of the time they’d lost when they were apart.

When she finally pulled away, her face was wet with tears, nose red and running, and the picture was so familiar that Peter’s chest physically ached with longing. She sniffed and wiped the wetness away with one of her sleeves, smiling up at him through eyes that still shone with tears.

“I’m home,” is all she said, when he pulled her back in, holding her like he thought she might drift away, that if he let go, she’d leave again, and he’d be completely lost.

“Thank God,” he breathed into her ear, and then they were both sobbing and he was walking them backwards towards the sofa, collapsing onto it when the back of his knees hit the worn brown cushion.

They pulled apart, sitting facing each other in their usual spots, crying and laughing all at the same time, both of their hearts feeling like a weight had been lifted off of them after so long.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked when they’d calmed down. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“My dad wanted me to finish med school at my dream school, and he knew that wasn’t Stony Brook. He promised me he’d be okay if I spent one last year at Empire State,” she explained quietly.

“That’s- that’s amazing, babe! You’re gonna be living here in the city with me again! You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to come back! I can’t wai-”

“Peter, I’m not moving back here,” she interrupted with a pained look on her face. “I still need space. Being back home only reminded me how much I missed my sister, and I barely had any time to learn to live without her. I still need to be by myself and adjust to life away from home and without her.”

His eager smile fell, lips dipping lower and lower as she continued to speak.

“I only came here to let you know I was back in the city. It felt wrong coming back without you knowing. But I have my own apartment in Brooklyn. It’s only a twenty minute subway ride from campus. I hope you understand, Peter. You were such a big part of my life, and you know I’d never want to cut ties with you forever, but I need this time. I need to know who I am without her.”

Peter nodded his head solemnly. He understood. Of course he did. He would give her whatever he wanted, as long as he knew she was alright.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I get it. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Her smile returned, and she leaned over to hug him again, that familiar warmth filling him from the inside out as they held each other as close as they could.

“Stay the night at least?” he whispered into her hair.

“Of course,” she replied, eyes closed to fight an oncoming bout of tears as she pushed her forehead against his.

She found herself in his bed twenty minutes later, a spot carved out for her like she’d never left that was marked by twisted sheets and dented pillows and looked just how she remembered them.

They lay nose to nose, staring unblinking into the other’s eyes as they breathed and drank in the feeling of being there together again, their limbs locked together like missing puzzle pieces reunited once again.

“I need you to know something. Before you leave me again,” Peter broke the silence first with a well-placed hand on her cheek.

“What is it?” she asked softly, even though she could guess what the next words out of his mouth would be.

“I love you,” he stated plainly.

“I know,” she responded without missing a beat. “I love you, too.”

“Then stay here with me! Y/N, I want to take care of you. I know you feel like you have to handle this on your own, but you don’t! You have so many people here that love you and want to help you heal, me especially,” he spoke desperately. She sighed, smiling sadly, and he knew she wouldn’t change her mind for anything or anyone.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I love you, but I can’t stay here. I need to rebuild on my own for a while. There’s nothing I want more than for my life to return to normal, but it won’t. So until I’m able to move on, I can’t stay,” she explained as she watched a tear roll over the crooked little bump in Peter’s nose and down the side of his cheek. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you so much it scares me. Sometimes I don’t think I’d be able to live without you. Just knowing that you were somewhere out there trying to deal with this alone made me want to rip my hair out for not being able to help. You gave me the best three years of my life before you left, Y/N. It took me nearly a year to be able to sleep through a full night because my thoughts of you kept me awake. I even wrote letters to you every day that I never sent and probably never will. I still haven’t learned how to live without you.” The tears were fully streaming now, pooling on top of the pillowcase until they were absorbed into the soft cotton.

Now was her turn to cup his cheek, wiping away the onslaught of tears as they continued to fall rapidly from swollen and bloodshot eyes that used to be the wellspring of her happiness.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know I left you alone. I know you’ve had to deal with your own problems without me. I didn’t want you to get hurt, I wanted you to be able to move on,” she sniffed, her own warm tears coating red cheeks.

“God, I feel so stupid. Everything you’ve been dealing with is so much harder than what I’ve been going through. I feel so selfish making you feel guilty for leaving. That’s not how I want you to feel,” he frowned, trying to stop any more tears from falling.

“Peter, your problems are no less important than mine. I don’t ever want you to feel guilty for wanting to talk to me about what’s bothering you. Even if I’m not physically here for you, I’ll always be with you in here,” she smiled as she placed a small hand over his heart.

It thudded against her palm, something soft and steady that seemed to say listen to me, I love you, feel how I beat for you.

“And you’re always in here, I promise. There’s not a moment that I stopped thinking about you these past two years.” She reached to pull his hand to her chest, feeling its warmth over her own beating heart that played the same symphony as his own.

They lay there for a few minutes with their hands over each other’s hearts that beat in synchronicity as they sniffed well-deserved tears away, basking in the incredibly intimate moment.

“Y/N?” Peter broke the silence again after a moment of thought.

“Yes?”

“Promise me one thing,” he whispered after he grabbed the hand that lay on his chest.

“Anything,” she nodded, giving his hand a squeeze.

“If we both haven’t fallen in love with anybody else, and we’ve both learned to heal in the next five years, let’s get married, okay? When you’re twenty-eight and I’m thirty,” he implored her tentatively, gauging her reaction carefully through creased brows.

“Okay,” she agreed after a beat of silence, and he pulled her into his embrace, breathing in her scent without any intent of letting go.

-

She left for her apartment in Brooklyn the next morning with the promise that she’d get back in touch as soon as she was ready. This time, Peter didn’t mind so much. He felt at peace with the fact that they would come together again. It may be years from then, but he was content to know that there was a future to look forward to. Their lives were in the hands of fate now.

Desperate for a change of scenery, though, he decided to take up Tony’s offer from years earlier and moved upstate to live and work at the Avengers compound with the hope that rigorous training would be enough to keep his mind off of her until she was ready to speak to him again.

His first day at the compound was one of the hardest he’d had in a long time since before she’d left. That night, he found himself at his desk with a lone lamp illuminating the bare sheet of paper in front of him as he began the first letter he would actually send.

Dear Y/N…

tagged: @multi-parker @cutie1365 @cersei-lannister @oswald-1998 @kawaiianime03 @lionfart @mrsdoradominguez-barnes @nonewmessage @co0kies08 @dec-snowy @sunshine-little-miss @cubedtriangle @triggerfingerfunction​ @dailygubler​ @dianadawson @frickflop @sparkle-dinosaur @theholyholland @hayleyygrace

[survivingthejungle]

Never Fade Away, part v

BEFORE WE BEGIN: some thoughts.

-im really stressing out bc we’re scheduling classes fr next year and i decided to take ap spanish a year earlier than i was planning n now i CANT TAKE ART MY FAVORITE CLASS WITH MY FAVORITE TEACHER AND FAVORITE ENVIRONMENT n i’ve got a feeling i’m going to fail it but its oaky i guess u kno wat ever

-my hair is hella soft and shiny rn its RL noice thx u morrocan argan oil conditioner

-my writing is getting shittier and shittier i apologize u guys deserve better. hOWever if you’ve got something in mind for me to write hit me up bc im on a block rn with this other request i’ve had for a while now and i need to get dat creativity flowin

-a terrible boy who aint worth my time is once again ruining my life, please send help i cant keep forgiving him and being the one who ends up apologizing when ive done nothing wrong ugh fuck me

-enjoy por favor

It turned out that the event that Jerome had been so looking forward to was a charity ball for Gotham’s Children’s Hospital. About three hours before it was scheduled to begin, you were once again handed over to Barbara and Tabitha to be dolled up again. “Make sure she looks perfect,” Jerome instructed, “But not like she stands out or anything. Can’t have those GCPD bozos trying to take her away from me.” The two women voiced their understanding and kicked him out of the room, but not before he winked at you as you sat on the other side. You were sitting in the same spot you had been in the first time the two women had used you as a life-sized barbie doll. Once they got started, the entire event of getting you ready for the gala went by in a flash. Barbara did your makeup again, however this time it was much less natural-looking. Your eyeshadow was a dark pink to light pink fade, and your cheekbones were lightly contoured. Tabitha was doing your hair again as well, instead this time she kept your hair down; from what you could see in the mirror she was going for a wavy style. The dress hanging on the closet door across the room was crushed pink velvet with spaghetti straps, straight, and ball gown length. Once your face and hair was to their liking, they had you put the dress on behind a divider.

“Hang on,” Barbara said, rummaging through a drawer on the other side of the divider. She handed you something over the top; when you took it you saw it was a black choker. “Wear that. I’ll get ginger in here so we can go.”

Seconds later, she reentered the room with Jerome, whose eyes were being covered by Barbara’s hand. You’d already stepped out from the divider. She let her hand fall and his eyes landed immediately on you. “Wow,” he said in a low voice, “You look absolutely stunning, babygirl. Spectacular.“

“Thank you,” you whispered. He walked over to you, taking your hands in his. He was considerably taller than you, even despite the fact that Barbara and Tabitha had given you a pair of strappy, matte, black heels.

“We can have so much fun when we get back.” He shot his signature evil grin at you, before leading you out the door. ‘Absolutely not,’ you thought to yourself. ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.’ The car ride to the event was relatively civil. You didn’t talk, which wasn’t unusual, and as much as you pushed yourself into the car door to keep distance, Jerome still managed to keep a hand on your leg the whole time. You couldn’t let it distract you, however. You were too busy formulating an escape plan in your head. ‘How will I get away from them all? Do I go straight to the police right after, do I lay low for a while instead?’

The events of the night must’ve been entertaining, you were sure, but you were too busy looking around every two seconds in search of an escape route. While Jerome and Barbera were preparing their act backstage, you were kept by Tabitha’s side the whole time. The only thing keeping you from running at every chance was the expertly hidden pocket knife she kept at your side all night. You kept silently praying someone in the crowd would recognize you and say something, but then, what would that’ve meant for the knife at your side? Escaping wasn’t going to be easy, but you would be damned if you knew you had let the opportunity for freedom pass because of a piece of metal with a point. Before the show started, Tabitha had dragged you along with her to a dark corner in an unoccupied hallway. She stood facing you and moved the pocketknife away. “Listen,” she started, “I don’t want to have to keep you locked up after tonight. Theo has something planned tonight, and I want to help you get away when it’s all over.”

Your jaw just about dropped to the floor. You were dumbstruck! “I- I don’t understand…” you stammered.

“Look, just- just hear me out.” You nodded. “If I let you escape, you have to promise you won’t tell the cops about the rest of us. Just tell them that when Jerome had you, he was alone. No accomplices. No roommates. None of us. Just him. The police tells the news what you told them, and you’ll be fine. Theo won’t try to come after you if he thinks you got him off the hook. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You’re a good kid, (y/n). You deserve to move past all this. You didn’t deserve any of it. So can I trust you not to run your mouth?”

“Of course. Thank you, Tabitha.” You meant it. You had no hard feelings towards her, or even Barbara for that matter. They were nice to you the whole time, what’s the difference if they were both a little whack? They weren’t the ones who kidnapped you or held you hostage. Tabitha was literally helping you escape. You would always be grateful for that.

She smiled. “I still have to keep this on you though,” she motioned to the knife. “For the sake of convincing Theo I’m not planning anything.” You could understand that. Once you reached your table. You did your best to hide your face from the rest of the crowd. You didn’t want someone spotting you now and ruining your whole plan, that would just end badly.

The events of the night flew by, up until when Jerome highjacked the magician’s bit and started killing people. Some in the crowd had escaped, but the majority of them, like you, were not as fortunate. Then, of course, there were the bits where GCPD detective, Jim Gordon, tried to intervene (if only for a minute or so), and when Jerome tried to kill Bruce Wayne, but none of that was as shocking as what happened next.

Theo Galavan, his mentor and leader, betrayed his trust and murdered him on the stage. You couldn’t help but react a bit shocked- despite what he had put you through, a stab to the throat seemed to be a very unleasant way to go. As soon as the knife was lodged in his neck and Barbara had escaped, everyone at the gala immediately fled, seemingly afraid that something worse was coming if they stayed there any longer. Tabitha did her best to guide you away from Theo’s view, pushing you into the crowd so you could blend in. You turned around and your sight of her was lost; maybe in order to help you gain some escape time against her brother.

When the cool, refreshing night air hit your face, you cried. You immediately started searching for the police when a strong hand came down on your shoulder. Your head snapped around to find the source, and you found yourself in front of a man wearing a GCPD badge. “Oh my God. (y/n) (y/ln)?” The man asked you.

As much as you had been crying before, you were full out sobbing now. “Yes,” you choked out, nodding your head. You weren’t sure how to respond to the situation at hand. Your captor was dead, you were free, standing next to one of the only people who had any control over the madness of that God-forsaken city, and you were alive. You barely knew what to say next, so you said the first thing you thought of. “I wanna go home,” you cried.

The ride back to the GCPD precinct was quiet, but you didn’t mind. The detective, who actually ended up being the infamous Jim Gordon, had given you a blanket before putting you in the car and calling your family to let them know that you’d been found, and you were alive and unharmed. Before being allowed to go back home, you had to be taken in to give an official statement. When you arrived, you had been given a change of clothes- a t-shirt and some sweatpants- and a big mug of coffee, your blanket still hanging around your shoulders. You were sat down on the other side of Gordon’s desk when the official recording started. “Just say what happened.”

“Um, well Jerome, he- I was walking home from school on the day that I was taken and he kidnapped me then- it was just him, I never saw anyone else. And he kept me locked up-he never did anything to me, just talked, but I think he must’ve had an obsession.”

Gordon interrupted. “Why do you say that?”

“He- he always kept talking about how he thought I was ‘his’ like he- like he owned me, or something… he liked pet names a lot. And then tonight, he brought me to the gala, he said he wanted to ‘show me off’, or something dumb like that. The only reason I didn’t run during was because he said if I tried anything, he’d kill my family, that he had them tied up somewhere. So I stayed where I was until that man killed him. Then I ran.”

He switched off the tape recorder. “Thanks for cooperating. Your family is on their way.” He stood up to go finish his work. “And, (y/n)-” he stopped to face you. “I’m really sorry about what happened to you. You seem like a good kid. You didn’t deserve any of that. I'll have one of the guys escort you and your family home. And-... I'd recommend group therapy... or something like that. To help you cope.”

“Thank you. For everything. And... I'm sure my parents will be on board with that. ”

The reunion with your family was full of tears and hugs. Your parents had bags under their eyes, they looked like that hadn’t slept in weeks. You embraced each other in the steps of the precinct, falling to your knees. You couldn't tell how long you all had been like that, but eventually you were led back to your home by one of the officers. The night was indescribably emotional and full of tears.

Your story was on the news for a week or so, and afterwards, it faded into the background. The only reason it was such a popular story was because of the fact that Jerome was involved. There were hundreds of kidnappings every week in Gotham, and most of them went unnoticed by the media. But they had a field day with you. Apparently during his raid of the GCPD, he mentioned how he was the one who had taken you, and that's why the police were in such a hurry to find you.

Your parents signed you into a hospital 3 weeks later. You had been mostly back to normal since you had been recovered, so they weren't expecting your sudden mental breakdown at all. The full weight of your trauma hadn't hit until then, and then suddenly it came crashing all at once. It started with you having random outbursts or crying here and there, but then your handle over the situation deteriorated. Next, you stopped eating. You couldn't risk it without being sick. Then, you stopped leaving your room. This went on for a few weeks until one day, you passed out on the stairs.

You had never really been a depressed kid before, so this was alarming to your family. Your time spent in theater had molded you into an extroverted, generally happy, and energetic person. When the light disappeared from your eyes and smile and were replaced by hollow, sunken cheeks and dark circles around your eyes, you all knew something was wrong. The doctors diagnosed PTSD and recommended 2 weeks in the hospital for your recovery.

You had lots of visitors, and that made you happy, but you could no longer express that happiness. You were put on mild medication, which helped, and you started feeling better as time went by. Most of your visitors were friends and family, but sometimes other people would come. Most of the time, they were Jerome fanatics. There must've been a cult of them or something, because every time it was a different person or group of people. They idolized him, and, by association, you. They saw Jerome as a messiah and you as his 'chosen one'. They always tried to get you to tell them about him, and at first you did.

"Well, he's... extravagant, for sure," you'd say. "He never hurt me, necessarily, but I mean, he killed people. He was a bad dude. I'm glad he's gone." This, of course, upset them. They were convinced he was just a rebel against authority and believed he could do no wrong, which is why you requested they stop being allowed to visit. This didn't mean the cult stopped keeping tabs on you, however. It just meant they had to keep their distance in order to keep you in their plans to resurrect Jerome and reunite him with you.

-THat was a shit cut off point i know and i'm sorry, im just tired and this took a long time

-j man will be back in the next installment of this series so don't worry ya lil brains

-PLEASE REQUEST STFF IM SO BORED AND NEVER BUSY AT ALL AND I NEED TO START BEING CREATIVE AND WRITING AGAIN

-my art class sketchbook is looking killer im so proud of her she's beautiful and if u want to see any of the works in here let me know i want to share ehr with you all

-my depression has been pretty subsided lately and that makes me super happy!! i mean like i still never do shit anyways but like at least im starting to be less sad about it i guess

WELL THERE U HAVE IT THATS AL L FOR TONIGHT FRIENDS

[thefangirldownthestreet]

There are no words in the english language that I can combine into a sentence acceptable enough to accurately describe to you just how much I absolutely cherish this

Hey giulsy my buddy!!! I was wondering if you could perhaps draw Denki and Zenitsu being buddies? :3, you don't have to of course but I just love my lightning boys and seeing them in your god tier art style would be absolutely swell 😩👌

HEYY!!

Thank you so much I love you bro💗💗

Also, I love these two too, so this was real fun :D

Yellow bros💛

I love so much how Denki’s goal is to make an electric sword. What a king👏✨

Bonus:

They have the same bestie, but in a different filter.

[thefangirldownthestreet]

Literally everything about this is so cute 💝💝💝 I love it so much

HEY ANON WHO ASKED FOR MOMO AND KENDO’S BDAY BASH!!

I did it, although, I’m extremely busy right now, so I couldn’t do a full fledge neatly coloured and sketched drawing, sorry about that.

But here’s there lil PARTAY!!:

Everyone’s dancing and having a blast. Haps to the pony tail gals👏💗

Also, here’s a little bonus; some coloured sketches I did so that I could get an idea on how to draw them since I never have before:

Kendo is so pretty wtf.