#I drew this over a month ago and I’m just forcing myself to post it now or else I never will

[chaoswithcausation]

How Donnie found out he’s trans

[udo0stories]

– The thing that drew me to early retirement is freedom, and that’s still the best part of it.  Back in 2005, the primary reason for this freedom-seeking was being able to devote my best hours to being a dad. I had a feeling my career in tech would be too demanding to sustain once the full-time job of raising children kicked in. Eighteen years later, wow, has that guess ever turned out to be right? Early retirement has proved to be the most amazing and worthwhile adventure, and it’s still just getting started. I wrote to you an amazing thirteen years ago, when Little MM was just starting kindergarten. Now, he has graduated from high school. I have been able to take advantage of a lot of new experiences, work hard and play hard when needed, and slow down when needed to overcome some true challenges and develop as a person. ow, with that chNow that the parenting phase is finally almost over, I am using some of those Freedom Chips to make a really big change: I am spending the winter in a warm, sunny place to try out a new life in Culdesac Tempe, the walkable, bikeable, car-free community you have probably heard me talk about a lot in the past.r, I’So, on December 1st, I will be loading up the Model Y with my best mountain bike and all the necessities for the incredible road trip across the mountains, along with tools and gadgets. ming Colorado winter. And my son will be joining me for the trip! Looking for updates? I have added a separate tracker page here. Heading West… We’ve booked ourselves a spacious two-bedroom apartment there for four full months. Little MM will be roughly alternating his months between Arizona and Colorado so he can still have time with both parents, while I’ll be there the whole time.  A big part of the fun is that this will force me to invent a whole new life for myself, away from the easy comforts of the big community and plentiful construction sites that keep me so busy here.  It will be both a big change and a significant challenge, which is exactly what all of us need on a regular basis to keep life full of meaning and joy.  So, what are you going to do in Arizona? I look forward to replacing this with a real Arizona mountain biking picture I will be taking soon. The exact details are still in the works, and I’d love to hear your ideas and feedback (see the “get in touch” note below). But here’s what I’ve got so far: Meet as many new people as possible and answer the burning question we all have: what kind of people choose to move to a car-free neighborhood in the center of a super-car-based metropolis? And, of course, hang out with existing friends who live in the area. Did you know our own Coverage Critic (aka Chris Smith) already lives in Culdesac? Share some of the experiences, whether good or bad, here on MMM and on places like Twitter and Instagram so you can live vicariously through this experience. Use my newly liberated extra free time to visit their kickass on-site gym to get in extra good shape.  Use more of that free time to write more blog posts and sweep some of the cobwebs off of this neglected online persona of mine. Look at the weather app on my phone periodically to cackle at the blizzards I’m missing in Colorado and celebrate my good fortune in comparison (the typical “winter” day in Tempe is typically in the mid-70s, which means sandals and palm trees and outdoor dining the whole time) Host a few meetups in Culdesac’s outdoor plazas, like we did last March Start a quirky free handyman business where I help new residents set up their IKEA furniture, move heavy stuff, and hang paintings, as a combo of meeting people, being useful, and exercising my compulsion to build stuff. Ride bikes! A lot. Explore the distant corners of the Phoenix metro area and the surrounding desert valley and mountain trails on mountain bikes, regular bikes, and the e-bike that comes included with the first 200 Culdesac apartments. And perhaps most importantly, help my almost-adult son get all sorts

of new experiences during his visits by living in a brand new city for the first time since he was born, way back in the same era as my own early retirement. One of Culdesac’s main “parking lots”, adjoining a restaurant patio My future gym (sAlright, you have caugThis is another instance where There is a reason other than simply journaling my personal life that I am going to go to the trouble of typing shit into the computer and sharing it with you.other than just journaling my own personal life, and this is another one of those cases.  First of all, there are the first-layer selfish goals: I want to have the best winter ever, meet a bunch of smart new people, and I also want Culdesac to be a huge success so they will build more neighborhoods like this around the country and set an example that permanently improves the way US cities build and expand themselves in the future. Much Better than Parking Lots But even if you don’t care about all that, I also want to use this as a little statement about trying to make deliberate life changes. By throwing myself into a new community that aligns so nicely with my own values, I hope to serve as a reminder that maybe you might want to try the same thing. Or just try anything new. In a comfortable, prosperous country like ours, some of the built-in tendencies of Human nature tend to work against us, saying, “Hey – I’ve noticed we have plenty of food and reasonable shelter, and that’s good enough. So let’s just double down on Netflix, comfort foods, and occasional luxury purchases, and that will keep us safe.” Instead, I want you to set your life treadmill to just a bit of a steeper, healthier incline setting. That means questioning the status quo and doing your best to keep at least one little experiment on the go in the background. Maybe that means forcing yourself to move to a better place or taking steps towards getting a new job that gives you a better work-life balance. The biggest move I ever made was leaving family and friends and my old job behind to move to the US alone, at age 24. Looking back, I’m shocked I had the courage (and the organizational skills) to pull that off back then. I’ve become older, a bit slower, and so comfortable that it’s hard to imagine doing something so bold now. But even today, 24 years later, I thank my past self every single day for doing it. My present life is an incredibly different and better thing because of that past bit of courage. The spirit of positive experimentation might also mean starting to challenge your body more regularly, giving it harder work, and exposing it to a wider swath of temperatures and movements. Or joining new Meetup groups to expand your circle of friends and experiences.  It doesn’t really matter exactly what you do, as long as you point your feet in what feels like a good direction and just start moving. Create some purposeful change, which will surely feel a bit difficult simply because change is hard. And hard things are good.  Future Arizona Neighbors: I’ll see you in four weeks! Further reading: I’ve been reading books, doing life experiments, and writing about the value of strategic hardship for a while now. But the latest is a book called Dopamine Nation by a talented psychiatrist and author named Dr. Anna Lembke. To summarize, your brain creates a baseline for happiness based on the hardest thing you do and then compares everything else to that. So if you do hard things, life in general seems fantastic because of this perspective. If you eliminate all hardship, suddenly even the pleasures of life seem bland, and you live a spoiled and unmotivated life. To get in touch, send me a DM on Instagram or use the email address “newsletter” at the domain of this website. (Newsletter subscribers can also just reply to this post if you received it via email.) Interested in stopping by for your own mini-Culdesac experiment? They have a few short-term rentals available at rather reasonable rates (less than nearby hotels); check em out at book.culdesac.com

What will you do with your car? I’m bringing the car as a convenient electric moving truck to carry two people and four months of living supplies. Once I get there, I’ll find a safe place to park it offsite and live the full car-free lifestyle of Culdesac, much like I do when I’m here at home. I typically only use cars to carry really heavy stuff or for trips to other cities and states, but it’s even easier to accomplish this in Tempe with its location right on the light rail and with their onsite bike, scooter, and even car sharing lots. What about your house? My place in Colorado is currently set up as a two-bedroom house on the main floor plus an apartment with a separate entrance on the walkout lower level. When I’m at home, I use the whole thing as one home—the apartment just makes a great place to host a fairly constant stream of visiting friends. But for the winter, I’m hoping to rent out one of these spaces to a friend or trusted acquaintance who will take good care of everything, while I leave the other section free for the occasional visits I’ll be paying to this area over the winter. Aside from keeping an eye on the place, it will be a great way to practice the age-old Mustachian technique of making money while taking vacations! What Happens at the End of March? As it stands, I have no plans beyond this point. I’ll head back to Colorado for my home base, but with this being a new phase of life, I’ll be layering on new adventures. Aside from the two mountain properties that I’ve been helping to build out, I just teamed up with a friend to help him create an intentional (and somewhat experimental!) living community in Denver called Wild Life Ranch.  We’ll have to cover more of that in a future article, but the basic idea is that he is converting a 13-acre former horse ranch in a relatively prime part of the Denver area into a future village of higher-end tiny houses and other dwellings. These will be arranged around nice common amenities with a big emphasis on people actually enjoying the process of living together, as opposed to just living side-by-side as we tend to do in normal neighborhoods.  

[glassheartjukebox]

love letters

feat. ushijima

word count: 1.3k

“listen listen to my heart

that i only wanted you to know” - love letter

a/n: no content warnings, just pure fluff ! also a reminder that reblogs really help ! thank you guys sm for reading :D

the letters started about three months ago. you hesitate to call them “love” letters. “love” letters would indicate some sort of romantic prose, frilly stationary, and sweet declarations of love. the letters you receive are decidedly more... blunt.

the notes ranged from dry compliments such as “the school uniform suits you.” to borderline offensive remarks such as “did you do something different with your face? you look less tired today.” nonetheless, they had become part of your everyday routine. a blue sticky note with messy, slightly smudged ink and a blunt message.

after a month of notes, you decided to show them to your friends. as strange as the letters were, you never discarded them. they held a special place in your heart, often making you smile from the sheer absurdity. your friends immediately hounded you for not telling them about your “secret admirer” earlier. “that’s it, we need to catch him in the act,” your best friend declared, slamming her milk carton down on the lunch table. you rolled your eyes. “i don’t see the point,” you sighed, “he’ll tell me who he is when he’s ready.” this triggered a barrage of complaints about how boring that plan was.

to be fair, you had two reasons for allowing your admirer to stay anonymous. first and foremost, the chance of him being a creep was high. you had no desire to get your hopes up, thinking that he may be your dream man. secondly, you enjoyed receiving the little notes everyday. they’d become a part of your routine, something to look forward to. so, the notes continued to come uninterrupted for three more months.

the end of the semester was approaching, and break was right on the horizon. it dawned on you that this meant the end of your daily notes, which made you a little bit sad. the one you received this morning read, “i have very important business to attend to. it might be a little bit before you hear from me again. please wait for me.” that was the most he had ever written on a single post-it note. you rolled your eyes, secretly yearning for a way to wish him well on his endeavors.

after receiving the last note, you spent two days mourning the loss. there was nothing to break up the monotony now. you found yourself thumbing through the old notes he had gifted you. the most conventionally complimentary one by far had been “i like the shape of your lips, they suit your face very well”. it was the bare minimum, but it still had you blushing.

when friday, the third day without notes, arrived you were provided with a reprieve from your routine by the school. everyone was escorted out of class to attend a pep rally for volleyball interhigh qualifiers tournament. after all, volleyball was a big deal at shiratorizawa. both the men’s and women’s team stood tall on the school auditorium stage. the captain of the women’s team gave her speech first, but you found yourself zoning out and examining the men around you. your secret admirer was likely one of the fidgeting boys near you, looking hungrily at the women’s team as if they were pieces of meat. gross.

a deep voice broke you out of your reverie. the boy’s team captain had begun his speech. ushijima “ushiwaka” wakatoshi. the entire school knew who he was. the volleyball ace that repeatedly led the team to nationals. he had even been ranked in the top three aces in japan. ushijima stood well over six foot, with broad shoulders and a permanently stoic face. truth be told, he intimidated everyone. you’d had a few interactions with him, most of which happened at the beginning of the semester. a teacher asked you to tutor him for one english test. you met for three tutoring sessions, and during each he was quiet, polite, and apologetic for taking up your time. you found him much less imposing after seeing him hunched down in a desk too small for him, focusing on past tense verb translation.

after the rally had concluded, you were forced to return to class. shiratorizawa would begin their games at the interhigh tournament roughly two hours after school let out. you decided that maybe you would attend one or two of their matches if you could convince your friends to tag along. you honestly needed to get your mind off of the notes and your secret admirer.

you and a few of your friends were walking out of the school gates, preparing to visit some shops to bide the time before the game began when it hit you. you left your history textbook sitting in your desk. your history textbook that was full of notes crucial to the test you had on monday. you froze in your tracks and your friends turned, a little confused. “i have to go back, forgot my textbook,” you squeaked before taking off back towards the school building. you were screwed if the teacher had already left for the day and locked up the classroom.

grabbing the door handle, you were relieved to find it unlocked. what you were not relieved to find was a large figure bent over your desk and rummaging through your things.

“what are you doing?” you asked quietly, still in shock. consequently, the large figured managed the bump your desk in surprise, knocking it over and spilling the contents everywhere. you rushed to help clean it up on impulse. you were only able to recognize the figure in the dark classroom once you were up close. “ushijima?” you said incredulously. this entire situation was giving you a headache. he just nodded at you. you continue to haphazardly shove the contents of your desk back in when your hand landed on a small, blue sticky note. ushijima’s hand flew out to catch it but it was too late.

“my dearest y/n, the apple of my eye, the holder of my heart, fire of my loins, the most wonderful person i have ever laid my eyes on. you looked positively beautiful today, scrumptious even. how could anyone resist your charms? i find myself falling madly, deeply in love with you everyday. sincerely, with much love, your secret admirer.” the blocky handwriting juxtaposed the flowery diction of the note. furthermore, someone had drawn little red hearts around the perimeter of the letter. this was… very different than usual.

ushijima was also very different than usual. he was quickly losing his usual composure. his face was bright red and sweat gleaned on his brow. you looked up at him awestruck and confused.

“i’m sorry for the inconvenience,” his voice cracked, “but tendou had me write this love letter after he found out i had been sending a girl notes. he drew the hearts as well. i did not realize he was joking until after i had slipped it in your desk. i came back to retrieve it before you could see it. i’m sorry again.”

you were at a loss for words. “it was you sending the notes the whole time?” you stated the obvious. ushijima simply nodded.

“but why?” you asked, still struggling to process all of this. “i found you very attractive when you tutored me. i wanted to express my affection without drawing extra attention to you or pressuring you to return my feelings. sorry again.” he stood, preparing the walk out the room. your body moved on its own as you stood as well, grabbing his wrist.

“i didn’t know it was you,” you whispered, “but i’m really glad it was.” you leaned up to kiss his cheek, causing him to flush an even deeper shade of red.

ushijima stared back at you, a rare smile adorning his features. “now go, you’re going to be late for your own tournament,” you teased, still quite bashful over the entire situation.

“before i do,” he paused and dug through his bag, “would you want to come to the match wearing this tonight?” he held out his spare volleyball jacket, adorned with his name and number.

needless to say, you accepted. in that moment, you knew you’d be attending volleyball games than you expected.

©glassheartjukebox all written content belongs to this user. do not repost, modify, or copy content

[sweetcathedral]

🕸Haikyuu! — The Butterfly’s Ripple Effect🕸

Note: Currently a developing short story as I’m trying to figure out how to format it on tumblr, so that it’s easy to read (might take me a few months for the rough draft). The plot and ending is solidified, just need to piece together the scenes. Of course all Haikyuu characters are post-timeskip, it’s easier for me to write them as adults. It doesn’t make sense, but it will when I have the whole story down!

⚠️: blowjob, raw, forceful (?), cheating, giving in to temptation

The warmth of the sun gently wakes you up, making you flutter your lashes and wince at the brightness of the room. Memories of last night play back in your head as you pull the covers over you, but you look around to see that there was no sign of Kuroo. You hesitate to go back to sleep or look around the house to see if the others were okay from last night, since it wasn’t as loud as it should be.

“G’morning,” Kenma was leaning at the doorway with a cup of tea in his hand and a plate of omelettes in the other. “May I?”

You nodded, rubbing your eyes to fully wake you up.

“It smells nice. How are the others?”

“Oh, Kuroo’s driving them back to Sendai. The others wanted you to tag along on their road trip, but I told them that you’re probably jetlagged and needed the rest. They helped unload your stuff at the entranceway though,” he settled the tea and omelettes on the nightstand before pulling out a bed tray table from one of the drawers.

“I didn’t know you were the type to have breakfast in bed.”

“I’m not. A friend left it here last year, forgot about it and told me to keep it in the end. I just thought you’d like breakfast in bed today,” as Kenma was about to unfold the table, he paused in hesitation. It looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he lowered his head onto your lap. Thinking nothing of it, you run your fingers through his soft hair,

“Tired?”

“. . . I guess . . . I don’t know . . .”

You started humming the tune Kenma used to sing to you back then, when the two of you were still normal. The familiar feeling began to cloud your judgement, letting your fingers trace down the nape of Kenma’s neck. He immediately grabs your wrist, startling you from your trance.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he lifts his head.

“I—, sorry, I didn't mean—”

“Your food’s getting cold,” he changes the subject and continues to set up the bed table, arranging the tea and omelette. Before he was able to leave the bed, you reach for his hand,

“Kenma, wait . . .” the words you’ve always wanted to tell him is caught in your throat, “. . . I’m sor—!”

His hands clamp over your mouth as he gently kisses your forehead, softly dragging his cold fingers down to your throat. Unable to shake off the way it made you feel, he left you in silence.

After closing the door, Kenma briskly walked towards the bathroom, turned the faucet on and locked himself in. He leans against the door, slowly sliding down to the floor and pulled his hoodie completely over his head,

“. . . what am I doing? . . .” he sighs, pressing his head into his folded hands.

A moment later, the sound of your footsteps makes him jolt back up to turn the faucet off. He opens the door to see you standing there, knees clasped together.

“Don’t just stand there, move!” you push through him to get to the toilet and quickly kicked your panties off, landing at Kenma’s feet. “Phew, okay, you can leave now.”

Just as you finished cleaning yourself up, he picks up your wet stained panties.

“Hey! Give me those!” you tried grabbing them back from him, while covering yourself.

Fuck it. Kenma decided to cross the line he drew for himself. At this point it didn’t matter to him anymore, nothing mattered to him anymore. Everything that’s been holding him back has reached its limit, and he was more than ready to risk it all.

“What, it’s not like this is my first time seeing you naked.”

“Kuroo can walk in at any moment,” you argued back.

“He left two hours ago. It takes a total of eight hours driving to and from Sendai, plus the amount of stops he probably took to settle them down,” he quietly closes the door. “Which means I’ve about six hours to have you all to myself.”

The weight of Kenma’s words dawned on you. The sound of your heartbeat echoes in your ears, racing at the pace things were moving in. It’s only been a day since you got back, but Kenma had been displaying signs of temptation. You knew he was selfish, but you didn't know he can be this selfish—to the point of sleeping with his best friend’s girlfriend. Maybe you should’ve set the boundaries right then and there when you and Kuroo told him about your relationship. But you’ve been sleeping around with Kenma for so long that you didn’t realize that these things weren’t normal for someone in a relationship. It wasn’t right at all, especially to Kuroo. It’s cheating, but—

“Don’t worry, it’ll just be between you and me. I promise,” Kenma cups your face so that your eyes meet with his and draws you into a kiss. You quickly pull away from him,

“Kenma, we can’t. You know we can’t, I’m dating Kuroo, and . . .this is cheating—”

“Only if we get caught,” his fingers trace up your thighs.

You grip his wrist with trembling hands.

“Kenma . . . please, I—I can only hold back so much,” your voice begins to break.

“Do you trust me?” he pauses, waiting for your reply.

With guilt, you shyly nodded.

“That’s my good girl,” he lifts you up onto the edge of the sink. Kissing you along your neck and collarbones.

“Not there, you’ll leave a mark,” you stop him.

“Right, . . . sorry,” he pouts. With how far you’ve already taken the situation, you decided to let go of all senses of your morals.

“Come here,” you reach for his face, pulling him back into a kiss. Shocked that you took the lead, but relieved, he places his hand on your wet spot. The feeling of his fingers brushing over your clit makes you throb inside.

“Look at how messy you’re getting and I haven’t even put my fingers in you yet,” he crosses his fingers. “I know you like it when I do this.”

The twisting motion inside you sends waves of pleasure throughout your body, making your toes curl. Hot breaths escape your wet lips, feeling yourself come closer to ecstasy. Before you could reach your climax, Kenma pulls his fingers out.

“No, no no,” you whined.

“What’s wrong?” he cocked his head, knowing damn well what he’s doing. “You know begging doesn’t work on me, you need to show that you want it.” He leans in closer to your blushing ear. “Now get on those pretty knees of yours.”

The glazed look in your eyes catches Kenma’s attention. A smirk tugs across his face, gently gripping your throat, embracing you into another wet kiss. His teeth softly grazes your bottom lip as he pulls away. Reluctantly, you get on your knees.

You work your tongue, stroking up and down his cock. “Fuck,” he grunts, giving you a sense of pride. Impatiently, you start to touch yourself to relieve that aching feeling,

“Ah, ah, ah,” Kenma pulls you by the hair to get you off his cock. He grabs both of your wrists and pins them over your head against the edge of the sink, preventing you from touching yourself. “I’m not gonna let you take that satisfaction away from me. Now open your mouth nice and wide, and stick your tongue out.”

Your hips squirm and tremble, doing as he says.

“Hrmph!” the impact of his cock thrusts to the back of your throat, his grip tightening around your wrists. Tears stream down your cheeks and saliva dribbles down your chin, taking in every thrust he gives you. You choke on his load, filling you so much that you can’t do anything but swallow.

“You think I’m done?” he pushes you to the floor and turns you over, pinning one leg to your chest. The glint in his eyes tells you how long he’s been waiting for this moment. A single, long, moment to put you in a sloppy daze. You can feel his thumb brushing over your slick folds before pressing it in. Although you’re already a soaking mess down there, he wants to make sure you're fully prepped before going in raw.

“Don’t forget, I have you all to myself for more than a few hours,” he says in your ear as he slowly penetrates you. The tip hits you in the right spot making your walls flutter. Only the sound of your panting and moaning escape your lips.

You forgot how rough Kenma gets when his stress builds up and he has nowhere to vent it off on, but that privilege was taken away from him when you and Kuroo started your relationship. Admittedly, you miss Kenma from before he knew about your relationship with his best friend. You didn’t know how he truly felt about it and didn’t want to ask. You avoided wanting to ask ‘cause you’re scared about knowing how he really feels. The day you confronted him about it was also when he started to become distant and detached from you. 

Slowly, your mind enters a daze, getting lost in the comfort you find from his guilty pleasure.

[corpsentry]

january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

[just2bubbly]

To Us

Masterlist

TLC Ship Week 2021!

*written for tlcshipweek2021- kaider for the prompt 'Journey of Us'

@kaiderforever

Summary:

"I'm thinking."

"A coin for your thought?"

"Nothing much... just I'm 27 and have this beautiful person seating on top of me, not that I'm complaining-"

"Come to the point Kai, you were definitely not thinking that."

...

The night before their second anniversary is quite extra-ordinary as both of them reflect back on their past. The present that they are living seems unbelievable to the two royals- just the two of them, together. What more can they ask for?

Ship: Kaider

Words: 3k

Genre: Fluff, Sick

Prompt: 'Journey of Us'

__

*Post- Winter

Cinder's Perspective:

"I'm so sorry, Kai," she said as he handed her the bowl of soup.

"No worries darling, it doesn't really bother me-"

"Yeah, but I know you wanted to have some alone time and I just ruined your plans."

"C'mon Cinder- you are more important than my plans. Besides we can go after you have recovered."

"Even then I feel extremely sorry for being under the weather at such a happy moment-"

"Sickness does not come looking at your calendar- wondering if it's the right time to crash on Miss Selene now that she does not have anything planned," he jested.

She glared at him while inhaling the smell of the chicken noodle soup wistfully.

"I'm gonna forget you said that because this soup tastes so good. You have really mastered cooking."

"Thanks- I asked Suho for his recipe, seeing how you liked the one he made when we visited them last month."

"So have anything planned- now that I'm going to be staying in the bed for at least two more days?" she questioned.

"Well- No?"

"No?" she mimicked, surprised at his answer. She had assumed he might have come up with some different sort of elaborate plans for the day.

"Like there is not really much I can do with you being sick that will qualify as classy and romantic... you know that right?"

"You don't have to."

"I'm going to!"

The thing they happened to be talking about was their second anniversary. Kai had wanted to go to a nice cottage home that his mother had brought on Wusong Island in Jilin. Cinder knocked off all his plans with the unwanted and very bad timings of the flu she had caught. hence they or rather she was forced to stay in bed for an entirety of 5 days?!- well the doctor had told 3 but her very sensitive and caring husband made it 5.

Her husband observed her as she drank the soup, feeling slightly awkward at the sudden attention she barked, "What?"

"Nothing- just staring at my beautiful wife!"

"Don't- it's making me self-conscious, for a minute I thought I was drinking it wrong or something and you were going to yell at me for not holding my spoon properly. And Kai, stop calling me beautiful when I have a runny nose, that's too sore and pink from all the tissues I am blowing into and I feel like I'm wearing rags right now," she said pointing out to her loose grey t-shirt and shorts, that were quite old with its colour faded still they were comfortable and that's what mattered.

"You always look beautiful to me!"

She smiled and asked, "What do you want?"

"Can't I just call you stunning babe?"

"Oh, and won't you be honest with your beautiful wife?"

He sighed and asked, "Can't I join you?"

She wished he would but instead settled for a bittersweet smile and said, "Kai you won't want to catch the flu. Believe me, you don't want your one nasal cavity feeling like a desert and the other one like a shitty waterfall!"

Kai had been adamant about cuddling while she was sick- she did not want him to catch her sickness. Hell, she would have actually made him sleep on the adjacent very large couch in their room if he would have not been half as stubborn as her. Alas, he would not budge and they had settled for some distance between them for Kai's well being.

"Please," he said in an annoyingly cute way, pouting his lips and crinkling those damn beautiful eyes of his to make an impact.

She was not going to budge to his antics- after all, she was supposed to look after him when he decided to make dumb desires.

"Only if you take the couch to sleep today," she argued.

"Cinder didn't we already talk about this?! I'm not taking the couch even if it's too comfortable and for my own good!"

"Don't tell me, I did not warn you, when you get sick," she said and patted the space near her, keeping the bowl aside while scooting away to make space for him.

He jumped at the offer and settled close to her as she leaned against his chest.

"Hmm... I missed you," he mumbled as he pressed his chin on her head, his words filling the comfortable silence.

"You are not really sad that I'm sick, are you, Kai?"

"I'm not, Cinder- it would not matter if I spend our anniversary on a beach, a cottage or in bed as long as you are there beside me- even if you are sick," he said reassuringly.

"Okay,' she replied.

He drew circles on her back and she reclined into him until she was more or less practically into his lap- all thoughts of making him sick with contact forgotten.

She had almost dozed off when he muttered quietly," Torin said we could have a week off if you wanted."

"Oh? and are you- are we?"

"I dunno, it's not every day that I can take a day or two off and it's pretty chill right now- not much work so I'm thinking about it."

"Maybe we should," she suggested, already knowing that they would be taking a holiday soon.

"Maybe."

They remained silent, just enjoying each other's presence and the quiet around them, the beats of their heart providing a soothing sound as they beat together. She would have been more than happy to sleep like that- in Kai's arms with the rhythm of their hearts as music to her ears.

"I'm thinking," he whispered his lips near her ear.

"A coin for your thought?"

"Nothing much... just I'm 27 and have this beautiful person seating on top of me, not that I'm complaining-"

"Come to the point Kai, you were definitely not thinking that," she challenged.

"Well,- yeah you caught me there- just I'm so happy in this moment. I married the love of my life and 10 years ago, I would have never thought that I would end up where I am right now."

Thinking over his words, she responded, "Well you would not be the only one now there now, would you?"

"Yeah- at 18 I had as good as convinced myself that I would not see myself grow to become 19- probably be killed by Levana before that-"

"Who knows maybe she would have loved you and vice versa," She joked, having come to terms with the horrors of her past by now.

"Yeah, weren't you just jealous of my wife, Cinder?- killing her like that."

"Oh! No Kai, I fought for you and came out as the winner," she jabbered with a wink.

"Quite a prize I'm, now aren't I?" he boasted, winking in response.

"Stop sounding like Thorne- besides, stop using sarcasm to just avoid talking about your feelings," she said, clearly forgetting what had started the mild flirting.

"Like you don't," he muttered under his breath.

Taking quite his chances trying to figure out if she had forgotten or not-

"Kai, continue," she ordered.

"There's nothing serious- just got me riled over a silly thought, that's all!" he said, avoiding to speak.

"Talk," she ordered before he could make any excuse.

Sighing he said, "Back when I was 9, I had always thought that I would have a wife that loved me like Mum loved Dad, but I was too simple back then. Later I quite got the hang that I would be the Emperor and... you know right, how marriages are looked upon as alliances in royalty?- so, maybe I thought- I would not know what love is, like what it really means. Levana just happened to come around the time when I had wholly convinced myself that I would never marry out of love- just some woman who was the daughter of some important person to strengthen bonds or something like that. And at the same time you decided to pop in my life- well I popped in yours but after a few days I had certainly started liking you, sort of even had a crush on you while you were on the run but things happened and well you know what happens later.. " he trailed.

"You did marry someone important Kai, remember I am the ex-Queen of Luna?" she said, turning around to look at him.

"How can I forget? have got quite a knack for Queens," he said, a grin breaking on his face however it did not reach up to his eyes.

"Yeah- even then you love me and I do love you! Although you had to marry someone before- you supposed to make the right choices later, you found love with me, I was quite a big show myself- a simple mechanic and then I come out as the long lost princess of Luna. I am happy- elated for where I am right now-minus the sick part but I think I can endure it," she admitted.

"I see, my happy outlook has quite rubbed on you - I don't want to change anything even if I could- I'm so fortunate to be here with you," he exclaimed, caressing the back of her hand with his thumbs.

"You know if someone had told me when I was 15 that someone would love me when I grow older, I would have called them a fool and probably shut my door on their face. If they had told me that I would be married to a kind man at 23, found true love at 16- I would have yelled at them to make young girls fantasize about something like marriage when there were important things in life. If they had told me that I would marry a man who loved me, much less an Emperor- I would have been shocked for the love of my life. No pun intended so don't point it out or grin- " he did grin even when she asked him not to "-Can't believe I'm really married to you even at the age of 25- like you are believable but the whole Emperor of EC is a too big thing for me who felt unlovable till 16- like hell with the world but I had thought I would probably be those single cat ladies just without the cats- I think they are nasty. Yet here I am!" She rambled, declaring the last part with a blinding smile.

"Quite unbelievable, ain't it?

"Yup- wouldn't change a thing though!"

"If I asked you-

"to marry you again then I would say yes without a moment to lose," she continued.

She did not know who rushed in first but his lips were on her and he whispered 'Good' against her lips, kissing them fervently. Before thinking she moved, making Kai groan at the loss of sudden contact, taking as many tissues that could fit in her hands from the tabletop, she blew her nose, feeling sickening.

Kai looking at his wife firstly in a bizarre way followed by a sympathetic smile, "Maybe we should keep kissing to the minimum."

"Yeah- I look gross," she agreed.

"Do you want to take some steam?"

"No- I'm okay," she answered, continuing to blow her nose which considerably contradicted her sentence.

"Tell me if you change your mind."

"Can you pass me more tissue?"

Having cleared her nose long enough to go without a blowing nose fit for at least a few minutes she whined, "My nose hurts- is it pink?"

"Really Cinder?- are you caring about your slightly pink nose right now instead of your health? I think it looks cute tho-"

"You had called me cute even when I was drenched in mud. Sorry for blowing up like that!"

He chuckled adding, "Quite got me confused for a minute there"

"I can't believe I'm sick on our anniversary-"

"Hey! I was sick on my birthday, don't beat yourself on that."

"C'mon aren't you even a tiny bit sad Kai- you make it sound like you are happy seeing me sick in bed!" she complained.

"I had be happy with you in bed, don't you think?" he said with a smirk tugging at his lips.

"I don't wanna sneeze and blow my nose on you so, NO!-" she replied. "-I don't think I have the energy to do anything."

"You had your meds?" he inquired.

"Yes," she said avoiding his gaze.

"And when did you take them?"

"Well- one is remaining- it's really bitter, can't I just skip it? Please!" she pleaded.

Paying no heed to her words, he just leapt out of the bed to fetch the said tablet- returning with the red and white capsule that was going to cause Cinder much misery.

"Here," he said, offering the glass of water.

"Please, Kai, it's so bitter and I don't want to spoil the taste of the soup-"

"Cinder, I'm not going to budge- you are having it. Personally, it's not that bad, you drilled Camilla into being nice for a day last week- you can handle a bitter tablet."

She stared at him not moving to pick the capsule from his hand, he stared back. It was a healthy competition, the one who blinks first will lose-

"Achoo- chu-" she sneezed rather unexpectedly making Kai victorious.

"I hate you," she mumbled glaring at him as she took the med- sticking her tongue out to him as the harsh taste of medicine could be felt down her throat.

"Love you too, Cinder."

"I was not even half as troublesome as you are right now when you were down with that stomach bug 6 months ago- I even allowed you to read those documents in bed and this is how you repay me for my kindness?"

"I repay in kindness- Come here, you can have the cuddles as your reward."

This time she kept some tissues nearby just in case and as revenge kept her very cold hand on Kai's bare torso. It did not look like it bothered him- he just snuggled closer to her, making sure that her hand was as much on her as on him.

"I can't believe it's already been two years since we married!" she blurted out.

"True."

"Quite hard to digest even after 2 years of marriage!- Sometimes my heart can't handle the sight of you in the morning- so peaceful and lovely," he declared.

"And you look so good at night when you scrunch your nose yawning- you look so adorable with those puppy eyes you make!" she added.

"Remember that time when Torin had almost found us hiding in the library trying to skip the staff maintenance meeting?" he asked.

"It was not much hiding, Kai- like he could have tracked us within seconds if he wanted to... I think he was hiding as well," she replied, remembering how Torin had spent so long trying to find them in the library even when they were loud enough to be found by anyone.

"Yeah, and when he did that toast for you after you had check-mated Camilla at her own games, I can't forget how proud he looked of you."

"Well, you had helped and I did not do much if you would not have been there to-"

""Oh, don't flatter me! It was you who stole the whole show that day. Vargas was so happy someone had skived Camilla after all these years," He chuckled and continued to add, "Stars, the toast that Thorne made-"

"No, Kai! I don't wanna remember it- I'm so happy he would not be teasing me tomorrow, I'm gonna use the 'sick' card if he embarrasses me like that again."

"He was so funny-"

"That humour traumatized me for life!"

"Well, he outdid himself that one time."

Recalling her friend's more than bizarre speech at their wedding she smiled fondly, her gaze falling on the large clock in their bedroom.

"Kai it's almost 12," she pointed out.

"Oh! yeah- quite late, uhm- er-early?" he sputtered.

"It's our anniversary!" she exclaimed with joy.

"Do you think we can make a toast? like is it okay for you to have wine?" he questioned for her approval and well-being.

"I don't think a glass of wine will worsen my flu, so why not?"

"Okay, I will fetch it before it the clock strikes 12," he said, already moving out to get the bottle of red wine they had stashed somewhere in the adjacent kitchen they had made in their chambers since they had been engaged. Cinder did not really like going to the Palace's kitchen every time she had a strong craving for some midnight snacks. Besides it was too far from their and Cinder was not really very happy about that- she liked cooking, scratch that- she liked seeing Kai cook and eat the delicacies he made.

Kai walked few minutes before it was midnight, trying to balance the two glasses and the bottle.

"Here let me help," she said, taking the bottle from his hand, uncorking it while he held the glasses for her to pour into. Having poured both their glasses to an acceptable amount, they turned to the clock waiting in anticipation for the final hour of the day to end.

"Wanna say something?"

7.6.

"Not yet!"

4.3

And as the digits changed to zeroes, they looked at each other and said, "Here's to the two years of marriage and togetherness-"

"- and many more that will come!"

"To my charming husband,"

"To my loving wife,"

The clink of the glass was unheard over their words.

"To us!"

__

A/N: I think you deserve fluff after the torture that I gave you! Here's nice married Kaider fluff for you guys.

The person named 'Suho' is none other than Torin's husband and I like to imagine Kai cooking and doing all sort of domestic stuff, even when he is the Emperor. This fic had wholesome amount of fluff, and sickness in it. I have really written so many shots this week- have been quite productive this month thanks to Ship Week.

Be sure to comment and vote!

Taglist: @cinderswrench @gingerale2017 @linhcinder686 @shellyseashell @ladyvesuvia @shelbylmkaider @levanariddle @cindersassasin @kaider-is-my-otp (Tell me if you wanna be added/removed)

[starculler]

Lead Me Down Another Road (preview)

Word Count: 2975

I fell into a minor rabbit hole and stand before you now with a scrap from the Crèchemaster Anakin AU I'm working on. The full fic is a few thousand words longer than this (and will go up on ao3 within the week), but this is technically the original bit I'd planned on writing (and is thus self-contained enough that I'm comfortable posting it alone here. As a treat). Hope y'all enjoy it and the glimpse of at least one of several Jedi OCs I've been having to come up with for this lol Note: I'm using crèche-minder in place of crèchemaster because it fits a little better with how I've set up the role in the au -- the particulars of which will be explored in the full fic.

Anakin stood from where he’d sat among the younglings in Targon Clan when he caught sight of his master standing just inside the room, all ten pairs of eyes straying from their painting to watch him stretch. He grimaced briefly at the splotches of bright paint he could already see on his tunic and pants, but made it a point to smile at a scowling nautolan making a grab at his ankle. He shuffled back, just out of reach, and had to dodge another two pairs of eager, sticky fingers with a put-upon sigh that failed to fully mask his amusement. It was the same song and dance every time he was sent to Knight D’nali for crèche-duty, and he’d long gotten wise to the initiates’ tricks.

What made today’s game of Catch-the-Padawan novel was Obi-Wan’s presence hovering at the edges of Anakin’s focus. His master hadn’t come to collect him like this since his first few weeks, confident that Anakin would neither get lost on his way to and from the crèche, nor try to dodge his punishment after that awful first and final attempt. He shuddered at the memory even as he leaped nimbly over a pair of near-humans who’d thought to tackle him from behind. He laughed when they turned, eyes wide and betrayed for a moment before trying for a frontal attack.

He dodged, weaving between ten tiny, determined younglings — baiting them with the promise of his capture before stepping just out of reach once more — until he hit something solid from behind. He blinked, stunned for a second and sure that he’d had enough space still to maneuver around, only to yelp when an arm snaked around his waist and pulled him off his feet with an ease that spoke of more than a little help from the Force.

“Master!” He groaned, his protest drowned out by mixed cheering and jeering from Targon Clan and their minder’s own loud laughter. Anakin shot Knight D’nali as much of a betrayed look as he could while caught, but the traitor only laughed harder. He huffed.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, grinning and smug and just as much of a traitor as the kiffar knight, “it seems I’ve won a prize to take back with me. A whole padawan all for myself.” A chorus of “No’s” and groaning followed the statement, and Anakin, face warmer than it had been a minute ago, suddenly found the floor much more interesting than a gaggle of disappointed initiates. Obi-Wan, still being a traitor, only laughed.

“Alright, alright. Settle down now,” Knight D’nali interrupted, wading into the chaos so she stood between them and the younglings. “Knight Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker have other duties to attend to, and you little Jedi have a latemeal to prepare for.”

With only a mild amount of protest, the little ones acquiesced. In true, and still vaguely eerie to Anakin, Jedi fashion, they bowed in sync, calling out a discordant mix of goodbyes and thank yous. Anakin nodded in return, starting to wriggle in his master’s grip in a futile attempt to free himself. Obi-Wan held fast even after two of the younglings, a zabrak and the same nautolan who’d first tried to grab onto him, crept around Knight D’nali to hand him four sheets of flimsi splattered with a variety of bright, clashing paint.

He sighed, resigned to the embarrassment of being gifted their paintings under the too-amused gazes of both knights, and murmured a quiet “Thanks” that made the pair smile so wide he thought their faces might split. Their obvious happiness made something warm bubble up in his chest and his hand tingle where flimsi met skin. It was hardly the first time one of the younglings in any of the clans he frequented had given him something small like this to take back with him — he had a wall in his room dedicated to doodles and paintings and a corner set aside, free of his usual clutter, for knickknacks and crafts — but the shock and awe and tingling warmth it left in him never wore off.

Anakin’s gifts had never lied with children. His temper ran too hot and he never quite knew what to say to anyone his age, much less younger than him. It had, in fact, taken months of constant supervision, patience, and teaching from the crèche-minders who’d agreed to take on his crèche-duty punishments for him to build up any sort of rapport with the little ones under their care. It had been hard and frustrating, but ultimately rewarding, work even if it had been borne out of his master’s own frustrated desperation.

The arm around his waist squeezed briefly, and Anakin had to fight down yet another burning flush when he realized Obi-Wan had most likely noticed where his thoughts had wandered. He floundered for something to say or do, but settled for a heavy sigh that drew a brief chuckle from his master.

“I apologize again for stealing Anakin back so early, Knight D’nali,” Obi-Wan said and Anakin could picture the apologetic smile on his face as he spoke.

“No need,” said Knight D’nali, smiling just enough that the wrinkles in her eyes and the upward pull of her cheeks distorted the two, bright red tattoos — one line the width of her thumb and the other no more than half a centimeter — cutting vertically down from hairline to jaw over her right eye. “I may be getting older, but I remember well enough how busy a padawan’s life can be.”

“You’re not that old,” Anakin groused and earned himself a huff from his master and a bark of laughter from Knight D’nali.

“That’s sweet of you padawan, but the gray in my hair tells another story. And not another word about it,” she said the second Anakin opened his mouth. “There’ll be no buttering up this old knight. I told you, if you’re back here in less than a week I will sit this clan down for a four-hour meditation at least. Force knows your master certainly won’t object.”

“Yes Knight D’nali,” he said in the dull tone every chastised padawan seemed to affect, much to Targon Clan’s delight if their stifled giggling was any indication. Knight D’nali simply nodded, satisfied. Obi-Wan, again, laughed.

“And on that note, we’ll be taking our leave now. Knight D’nali.” Obi-Wan bowed as well as he could with an armful of padawan still pinned against him. “Targon Clan.” He offered the still-giggling younglings a much shallower bow. “May the Force be with you,” he said, echoed only a moment after by Anakin, before turning on his heel and striding out into the hall.

Anakin wriggled again and said: “Master, you can put me down now.” Obi-Wan hummed but didn’t so much as slow down until Anakin huffed, rolled his eyes, and added an only somewhat petulant “Please.”

It took him a moment to find his balance when Obi-Wan suddenly let go, but soon enough he was keeping pace with his master, just shy of being at the knight’s side. They walked in silence, past the doors to other clans of exuberant younglings and down the almost confusing pattern of turns that made up the Temple’s Crèche. It was, he knew, meant to be confusing so that intruders would have a harder time reaching the Jedi’s most vulnerable members on the off chance they made it through the Temple, guards, and every Jedi in between. He also knew that Obi-Wan was purposefully leading him through the longest route rather than the faster shortcuts one of the other crèche-minders, a young pantoran knight he’d only met with a few times so far, had taught him.

They nodded at the pair of guards stationed at the Crèche’s primary entrance once they’d finally made it through, and again to any Jedi they passed along the main corridor. Anakin glanced curiously at his master when he led them not towards the dormitory or refectory, but instead toward the salles and meditation rooms. He pursed his lips, unsure if it was a good or bad sign.

The salles meant lightsaber practice — Anakin’s favorite — but he doubted they’d stop there. He had, after all, been in the crèche because he’d let his temper get the best of him again, and Obi-Wan had made a point of steering Anakin away from as many potentially aggressive outlets as he could until he was sure Anakin was cool-headed. That didn’t stop him, however, from reaching for the lightsaber on his belt, shiny and still new considering he’d only just built it less than half a year ago. The trip to Ilum had been terrifying and exciting in equal measure, just the two of them instead of waiting for the next crèche clan’s planned gathering. It still awed him sometimes, to brush the warm, steel cylinder and find it there or to sit and listen to his crystal’s song virtually anytime he wanted.

It was a scrap of undeniable proof that he was a Jedi. That, late-comer or not, he belonged here just as much as any other padawan or knight.

Obi-Wan slowed, looking back at Anakin with the kind of unbearably soft, caring smile that told him his master had probably felt where his thoughts had gone. He held an arm out and Anakin hesitated a moment at the familiar invitation, torn between embarrassed frustration and elation at being invited close in a fairly public space, before stepping up so he was beside rather than behind Obi-Wan. He stiffened when Obi-Wan put an arm around his shoulder, but relaxed before his master could even think about pulling away. Anakin pressed into his side, deciding that, right now, eleven-nearly-twelve wasn’t too old for the show of affection, and just about melted when Obi-Wan’s arm shifted to briefly squeeze his shoulder.

His vain hope for the salles was, of course, dashed as they walked passed to duck into one of the smaller, unoccupied meditation rooms. Despite not wanting to complain, Anakin couldn’t completely stifle a sigh as he took in the room: bland, small, and box-shaped, with a few colorful cushions laid out and more stacked against the walls with a few other types of seating for those who might need it. Obi-Wan flashed him a quick smile, squeezing his shoulder once more before letting go and settling on an older-looking, dark blue cushion. Anakin breathed in, held it for a count of four, and breathed out in an effort to brace himself for the ensuing lecture or meditation he was sure to suffer. He picked up a red cushion from the far wall, calling it to his hands with the Force, and sat himself down in front of his master, close enough that their knees almost touched. Then, he waited.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started after they’d sat in silence for a few tranquil-bordering-on-nerve-wracking minutes, their slow, even breathing the only sound in the room. Anakin met his master’s gaze, shifting slightly as a small kernel of icy unease sprang to life in the pit of his stomach. “You’re not in trouble, Padawan.” Obi-Wan smiled, still soft. Still caring. Anakin frowned.

“You don’t usually bring me here unless I am.”

“I suppose I do, don’t I?” He seemed to speak mostly to himself, brow furrowed and a wry twist to his lips, like he’d found something funny. Anakin cocked his head to one side, watching as Obi-Wan breathed deeply a few times like he was trying to center himself. Or, a traitorous part of his mind whispered, bracing himself. Anakin squirmed in place, hardly daring to breathe himself as the unease in his stomach grew a fraction larger. “I’ve been talking to a few of the crèche-minders you’ve been working with.” Anakin swallowed, thoughts flitting towards the many mistakes he’d made the last few months and especially at first. “They’ve given you rather glowing reviews if I do say so myself,” he said, a small but pleased curl in his lips. And Anakin—

Anakin blinked.

“Really?” he asked, and wished the question hadn’t come out quite so bewildered. His master grinned and Anakin swore there was pride gleaming somewhere in his eyes.

“Really. They’ve enjoyed having you there. Knight D’nali says you have an uncanny ability for distraction,” Obi-Wan teased. Anakin stuck his tongue out and earned himself a bark of laughter. “Master Benni,” he continued, sobering once more, “made an interesting suggestion when I spoke to him last week. I—” Obi-Wan stopped. Inhaled.

“Master?”

A fine tremor had started in Anakin’s hands at some point. Excitement at first, quickly drowned out by a fresh wave of nerves. He’d once thought, at first, that Tatooine would drown in rain the day Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t have a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue. A nearly three-year partnership with the knight had broken the facade a bit by now, but the sight of Obi-Wan struggling to put his thoughts together unnerved Anakin even after his master smiled reassuringly, reaching forward to clasp one of Anakin’s hands between both of his.

“There are many paths to becoming a Jedi, as I’m sure you’ve learned by now. Guardians, Council members, diplomats, teachers … crèche-minders,” he said, emphasizing the last. Anakin’s breath caught, eyes wide as the implication sunk slowly in.

“Did— Did Master Benni,” Anakin started, strangled and halting. Obi-Wan nodded. “But—But I’m horrible with younglings! I’ve made so many mistakes. I—”

“You are learning, Anakin. No one expects you to be perfect at anything. Much less in dealing with younglings.” Anakin opened his mouth. Closed it. Floundered in his incomprehension until—

“Are you … Are you getting rid of me?” he asked, voice suddenly small and hurt. He turned his hand in Obi-Wan’s grip, wrapping his smaller fingers around his master’s wrist as if he would disappear from Anakin’s sight at any moment.

“No,” Obi-Wan said firmly, one of his thumbs stroking the back of Anakin’s hand. “You are my padawan, Anakin, and I will never abandon you.” Obi-Wan paused there, earnest and scorching in his focus until Anakin nodded, more numb than anything else at the moment. Satisfied, his master continued: “But I do think that this is a good opportunity for you.” Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked down to their hands and then back up, meeting Anakin’s once more, steady and confident and calm. “You’ve changed a little since you’ve been around the crèches. I can see a confidence in you that wasn’t there before, and better control. Not just with the Force, though I’ve no doubt entertaining younglings for hours has done wonders.” Anakin flushed, fuzzy warmth buzzing in his chest at the praise.

“You feel things — everything — so strongly, Anakin, and I fear I’ve not been able to help you much in that regard.”

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when Obi-Wan held a hand up for silence and settled for a quiet pout instead, much to his master’s amusement.

“I appreciate your faith in me,” he said with a nod, “and I do not doubt that you would learn a lot at my side alone. But I’m coming to realize where you might need more than I am able to give, not because I don’t want to. Force knows I’d do whatever I could to help you, Anakin, but there are simply things I won’t be able to understand. Haven’t been able to understand,” he added and Anakin frowned at the brief, bitter note he could pick out in his master’s tone. “Master Benni’s offer has as much to do with your potential as it does with your connection to both the initiates and their minders. I— We think it’s something you should consider, despite how it’s likely not the path you first envisioned for yourself.

“You will still be my padawan, always,” he said and squeezed Anakin’s hand to reinforce the sentiment, “but you would split your time between myself and a rotating number of the crèche’s minders under Master Benni’s supervision. You’ll be busy, and kept in the Temple more often than not even if I’m sent out on missions. It may cut into your classes or lightsaber training, in which case you’ll have to work harder to keep up, but there’s not a doubt in my mind that you could do it.”

Anakin nodded, mind whirling and thoughts spinning. There was more Obi-Wan wanted to say, he could tell, but Anakin was grateful for the lull granted to him to gather his thoughts.

“I—” Anakin swallowed, his throat and mouth suddenly dry. He held his master’s wrist a fraction tighter. “Can I think about it?” He winced at how his voice cracked, but Obi-Wan only nodded, smile still firmly in place.

“Of course. You don’t have to decide on anything until you’re ready. Master Benni made it quite clear to me that the offer is open to you whenever you wish to take it, whether that time is now or after you’ve been knighted.”

Anakin blinked, balking at the magnitude of not only the offer, but the old Master’s apparent faith in him, even as the buzzing warmth from earlier threatened to consume him fully now. He felt a fresh flush rise on his cheeks and a sheen of stinging tears prick at his eyes, held back by sheer force of will because he refused to waste the water just yet. Slowly, carefully, Obi-Wan squeezed his hand before leaning forward, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Anakin’s outer tunic. When he pulled, Anakin went as easily as he used to into his mother’s arms, overwhelmingly grateful for the contact just then.

“I’ll think about it, Master,” he mumbled into Obi-Wan’s robes, his face pressed into his master’s chest. “Thanks.”

Obi-Wan only hummed in response, tucking Anakin close and rubbing soothing circles into his back while Anakin clutched at him in return.

[consumeconstantly]

Who Are You (and what will you become?)

1(you are here)| 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: “Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.” 

The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side. 

“So tell me, M. Wayne, why do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?” (all biodad bruce can be read as stand alone but are posted in chronological order)

__________________________________________________

At the tender age of nineteen, Marinette Dupain-Cheng has already become a jaded woman. It doesn’t shine through very often, hidden behind a carefully crafted facade of Parisian-brand carefree attractiveness and pigtailed youthfulness, but there exists, in Marinette, a certain bitterness.

“For a vigilante, you’re not very secretive,” Marinette remarks, keeping her tone measured, almost playful, so as not to draw attention to herself. 

“Marinette.” Bruce inclines his head and allows the bartender to serve him a whiskey sour. He doesn’t drink alcohol because it alters his mental state in ways that are unpleasant, but ordering a drink helps him fit in, and with Marinette, the person he wants to talk to, right at his side, he can’t have his normal ginger ale substitute. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mmm.” She takes a sip of her French 75, playing up an interest that Bruce knows is a lie. “M. Wayne, you say that as though we’re familiar with each other.”

“Sabine and I were close,” he says. 

Sabine is one of the few people who knew about his existence as Batman that didn’t live in Gotham. Many years ago, they were friends. Colleagues. (More.) Of course she told her daughter about who he was. How could she not have? 

Sabine is-- she was--

“Close, you call it,” she says with mock awe, words slurring together. “Closer than close, really. Too close for comfort— at least, too close for you.”

When Bruce and Sabine’s paths crossed all those years ago, he was struggling trying to raise Dick. Sabine was equal parts a mother and a mentor to Dick in all the ways that Bruce couldn’t be. When she left for Paris so abruptly after the two of them parted ways, Dick didn’t take it very well. Even moreso when communications halted permanently. The fact that the radio silence coincided with Marinette’s birth is something only Bruce is privy to.

However awkwardly he and Sabine left off, it doesn’t change the facts. Bruce’s lips thin. “I’m here to offer you a home.”

Swirling her French, Marinette taps at her phone, swiping away at a few messages that she’s not interested in. “I’m nineteen and more than capable of taking care of myself. Though I suppose it stands to reason that it would be difficult for you to know that, what with how busy your extracurriculars keep you.”

“I’m not doubting your capabilities.” He’s looked into what Marinette has been up to over the past nineteen years of her life. He’s never been particularly concerned with her upbringing, not with a woman like Sabine at the helm of her childhood. Bruce was right not to be worried; Marinette has grown into a multi talented, extremely well connected entrepreneur based on her own hard work. Judging by the crowd that she runs with and the multiple charities that she supports both financially and with her own time, she will be a force to be reckoned with in a few years; Tim regularly extols the virtues of the brand MDC, and if he knew that he was sisters with the designer, he’d never stop raving about her. MDC is already being compared to the likes of Dior and Gabriel when they were first starting out. Her finances aren’t anything to scoff at, and at a few galas and charity parties that he’s had to entertain, anyone who's had the privilege to wear an MDC original talks about how sweet and kind the head designer is while complimenting the CEO’s business savvy.

Bruce has to admit that he’s impressed by how she manages to keep her identities separate. No one suspects the head designer to also be manning publicity and business. 

He’s been watching her for the past day, and he has to say, for somebody whose parents just died, she carries herself with remarkable ease. If not for the red around her eyes and line of shots on the bartop, Bruce would believe that Tom and Sabine’s death didn’t phase her at all. 

“There’s a but, isn’t there?” Marinette says bitterly.

She’s right in that assumption. As skillful as Marinette is in her field, she has no practical combat experience. A brief stint in fencing and martial arts but nothing beyond that. Even if she practiced martial arts for years, that wouldn’t be enough to convince Bruce to let her go off on her own. Martial arts as a hobby is an entirely different game than fighting for one’s life. 

Marinette is simply not the kind of person who can face down a League member and come out of it alive. 

“It’s for your safety.”

For the first time since entering the bar, Bruce sees a flash of true emotion cross Marinette’s eyes. It’s hard to see the color of her eyes in the dim lighting, but it’s impossible not to see Sabine in how her eyes narrow. Perhaps the dim lighting makes it easier to; in the light of day, Marinette’s eye color— it’s too similar to the shade he sees in the mirror. 

“My safety? What about my parent’s safety?” 

At that, Bruce internally cringes while keeping his face carefully blank. Tom and Sabine… their end wasn’t pretty. Not the most gruesome deaths he’s ever seen, but it was up there. Bruce never thought the League would do something as cruel as desecrating the corpses of the people they murdered. They may be assassins for hire, but most times, they do have some sort of morals. 

The worst part about it is that their death is most likely a result of Sabine’s past relationship with him. Last month, a tabloid that drew comparisons between Marinette and Bruce. It didn’t take long for another person to dredge up pictures from when he was still with Sabine. Tom and Sabine didn’t have enemies well-off enough to hire the League. But Bruce? Bruce did. 

“I’m not interested in any protection you have to offer me.” Marinette shakes her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not like you. I won’t become a vigilante out of rage or as a coping mechanism. I’m not going to go chasing after the League in a foolish pursuit of misguided justice.”

But Marinette doesn’t understand. She has a target on her back with her newfound association to him.  

“I haven’t been active in your life--”

“Understatement of the year,” Marinette mutters.

“--but I’m not going to let you die when I can prevent it.”

Downing the rest of her French, she takes the Moscow Mule away from Bruce’s hands, eyeing the liquor up on display. She drinks the cold alcohol and revels in the burn that slides down her throat. Marinette swipes on one of the notifications she’s received on her phone in order to respond to it. “You’re a good man, Bruce. But your desire to protect me— what does it stem from? What do we have in common? Why would you use your time and effort on what’s essentially a stranger?”

Bruce has no good answer for this, but he has an obvious one. As soon as it leaves his tongue, it feels wrong. “We share the same blood.”

He can’t bring himself to call Marinette his daughter. That means that he would be her father and he’s not deserving of that title.

Marinette pockets her phone, eyes trained on a set of unusually shaped glasses on the shelves. “If that’s your answer, M. Wayne, let me tell you something. Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.” 

The bartender comes around and tops off the whiskey sour. The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side. Bruce can’t tell whether the bartender knows Marinette or not, but he certainly looks concerned enough to, with how his eyes shift between Marinette and himself rapid fire. When the bartender’s gaze settles on Bruce, mouth turned downward, clearly suspicious of his presence, Marinette just waves him off with a gentle smile. 

Her smile turns up the same way Tom’s did. She’s right; family is more than blood. 

“Your answer to why you want to protect me is that we share blood, but you speak nothing of our relationship. Shouldn’t that have been the first thing you brought up?”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably on the bar stool. Marinette just laughs at his apparent awkwardness. “Talking of blood relations seems to be something you don’t enjoy, and yet the entire premise of your protection rests on it. Tell me, M. Wayne, do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?”

Even as inebriated as Marinette must be, she brings up points that he himself wondered on his way to Paris. Wanting to see Marinette safe goes beyond a simple duty to morality and virtue. Though Bruce is known for adopting kids with tragic backstories, it simply isn’t feasible to adopt every single one he comes across. To bring Marinette into his family at this age, to expose her to the life he lives would be beyond cruel. In essence he’d be replacing two parents with a ticking time bomb: himself. 

“Don’t consider me a parent, just a guardian. It’s in my best interest to see you safe, and the best way to do that is to have you move to Gotham, where my colleagues and I can assure you around the clock protection.”

At first, he distanced himself from Sabine and Marinette because he didn’t want to disrupt her current relationship with Tom. Even if the two of them insisted that he could still be part of Marinette’s life, it just didn’t feel right to have the title of father when he wasn’t the one to put in any of the hard work. Then, as Tom and Sabine grew more comfortable in their life together, settled down and opened up a bakery, he was blindsided by Jason’s death. As his daughter grew older and older, there were just too many things in his own life for him to ever hope to kindle a relationship with Marinette.

Marinette laughs, but it’s really more of a bark. Her voice is too hoarse for it to come out any other way. Bruce can’t imagine how much she’s cried this past week. “If you wanted to keep me safe, where were you a week ago? Where were you two years ago? Where were you when I was thirteen? M. Wayne, I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you throughout the years, and I’ve always brushed them off as nothing more than tabloid gossip. But perhaps they got one thing right about you: you’re a liar.”

Marinette stands, swaying slightly.

“This— if you truly want me to uproot my life, I need more than you saying it’s in your best interest. I need—” Marinette reaches up to her earrings and allows her eyes to flutter shut. She needs more than a distant guardian. She needs someone to confide in. Someone she trusts. “It was nice meeting you, but I don’t need your pity. Not now.”

As she weaves through the crowd, Bruce can’t help but wonder whether he made the right decision all those years ago to not be apart of her life.

@biodad-bruce-month

Late to the game as always. This will be a multichapter fic but all parts can be read as one shots (and also as always anything posted to tumblr is never checked for accuracy and stuff so whoop)! They’ll be released in chronological order. If you want to get tagged in all things maribat, instead of commenting it under a fic, I’d appreciate an ask or a dm instead! I haven’t been able to go back through all the previous comments and create a taglist yet but perhaps. eventually. 

[spideytingle616]

Five Months [5]

Part 4 / Masterlist

*based on the five stages of grief*

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, death, mentions of anxiety/panic, possible implications of sexual activity, blood/injury, swearing

Summary: The first time you touch your soulmate, you’re able to see a glimpse into your future. What happens if your future is also your end?

Word Count: 12.7k wow wow (bold and italics are thoughts, scenes following a +++ are a flashback)

A/N: Thank you all who have read this story! I have had this planed for almost a year, and I’m so happy it actually became a thing, though I apologize for taking so damn long with this part. I hope you enjoy. This chapter features a lot of flashbacks, so buckle up.

Chapter Description: Maybe the universe isn’t so bad…

Month Five, Acceptance: Love, and Never Forget

A new day. A new month. A new semester.

The subway ride feels extra bumpy today, most likely due to the large pit in your stomach. Going to school is never something you looked forward to, but when you got there, someone was usually waiting for you.

Someone that made the grueling day a little easier.

You sigh and slump into your seat. How does a train full of people make you feel so alone?

A completely different person could be seen in your window reflection. Or maybe you were just so numb at this point, your body was nothing but luggage you were simply dragging along.

Fuck, you were exhausted. Beyond the undereye bags and the dry hair, your frame looked like it was ready to buckle down and rest. It was already curling in, prepared to do so when given the chance. Your eyes shut tight as you clenched your fists, trying your best to quiet the anxiety that flowed through your body.

When you open your eyes, you look at your reflection one more time, ignoring the cold stare that met your own. The world keeps going, and so should you.

Everything was more or less the same at Midtown. People were alert after their long break, but they still dreaded the upcoming classes. Friends were reuniting with one another and chatting, and everything seemed normal.

But it wasn’t, at least not for you.

You close your locker, and as you turned away from the wall you were met with familiar faces coming your way. The two friends kept looking at one another as they walked toward you, and it was clear that they felt unsure about approaching.

It wasn’t like you were purposely avoiding them, so to speak. But their worried texts were plentiful, and with everything that has happened, you pushed away from their coddling. Your responses were short, usually, something along the lines of “I’m fine” and “doing good”. Whether or not they trusted that you weren’t sure, but it kept them off your tail long enough for the time being.

Fake it till you make it, right?

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you joke, opening your arms wide. “Come here.”

MJ and Ned smile at the gesture, quickly accepting the hug. It was definitely something all of you needed. You buried your face into their shoulders, happy to be with them again. Guilt pooled in your chest.

“I missed you guys… and I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting” you sigh.

MJ tightens her grip on you, snuggling her face closer to yours. “It’s okay. We get it. We were just worried is all.”

“Still, it was selfish of me to do.” You pull away, looking between the two. “This whole thing is not just about me. I should have been there for you guys too instead of pushing myself away.”

“Well, we’re here now. Whenever you’re ready, to talk or hang out, we’ll be there.” Ned offers, and a smile reaches your face.

God, your friends were amazing. You couldn’t bear to hurt them even more with your doom and gloom. They deserved someone that would be there for them and listen to their concerns, instead of hiding in their own pool of guilt.

You quickly shake your head before speaking. “Thanks, I think I’m gonna be okay, though. If you guys need more time that’s totally fine, but I’m good. Nothing has to be weird between all of us, we can just hang out like old times, you know?”

Your friends glance at one another, their eyebrows pulled slightly tighter.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then I’m glad,” Ned says, looking back at MJ for reassurance. “But you know, it’s totally cool if you still need time. After all, it’s been a rough month.”

You bite your tongue back from replying, your jaw suddenly tense.

Yeah, no shit…

+++

He’s gone.

Oh my god he’s gone.

He’s actually dead.

If someone came and ripped your heart out of your chest, it would be painless compared to how you felt now. You continued to stare at Peter even after his eyes closed. If you continued to look at him, maybe you could still pretend that he was alive.

When the police showed, everything was a daze. The flashes of red and blue sirens drew a queasiness deep in your stomach. As the officers forced you to let go of the boy, their voices muddled into the air. You felt completely disassociated from the scene in front of you, and all you wanted to be held in Peter’s arms. There, you could pretend that everything was okay.

“They’re still breathing!”

The shout draws you back into current time, their words shooting a current throughout your body. It couldn’t be…

“Airways are clear, but his respiratory rate is dropping. Get him on the stretcher now. Don’t let him go into shock.”

Were you hearing all this right? Too many things were happening right now, and no one bothered to tell you anything. The police were pushing you away from the scene as if you were a random pedestrian, and you were ready to grab them by the throat and scream at them. When you see Peter getting lifted into the ambulance, his suit now more red than blue, that was the last straw.

You push your way through toward the paramedics. If they were taking him, you were going too. You were right behind the red and white doors before a hard shove comes to your chest, stopping you from coming any closer.

“Excuse me miss, this is private business,” what looked like an EMT said. “Stark Industries does not want anyone seeing this. I’m going to have to ask you to go back with the crowd.”

You stare dumbfounded; at least Ned was able to get a hold of him, but the fact that they were acting as if you weren’t a witness and Peter’s friend angered you even more. “No, you don’t get it, that’s my friend in there. I- I need to be with him if he’s still alive. Please I-“

“Look, as much as I’d like to believe that we were not told anything about other parties being involved. So, to keep this under wraps, we cannot let you ride with us. If you actually do know the patient, you can follow us and figure out your clearance there,” they finalize before walking away and jumping into the vehicle. You don’t even get a chance to breathe before they’re gone, and the only remnant of Peter was the stain on the street.

The EMT did have a point. If you wanted to keep Spider-Man’s identity a secret, you couldn’t draw attention to yourself. Slipping under the newly posted yellow tape, you’re swallowed into the shadows before the police even notice.

Now here you were, in a dirty subway car at ten in the evening. Being a teenage girl, this situation would normally terrify you (Seriously guys, no means no. Why are you even near us to begin with?), but luckily the murder scene on your dress and the hollow glare in your eyes drove most passengers away from you.

Staring into space, your brain tries to process everything that just happened in the past hour. You sprinted across the city to find your dying soulmate, only to find out he isn’t dead? Or at least, not yet. Based on his current state, it could still go either way.

Shouldn’t you be feeling hopeful? Or at least some sort of relief knowing that Peter has a chance? Your body internally cringes at the idea. Getting your hopes up wasn’t great; part of you always hoped for a happy ending with Peter and look where that got you.

All you could feel was dread, and it wasn’t much better than the heartbreak prior.

The car slows down as the rest of the passengers stand and walk toward the doors, but not without giving you a worrisome stare. You ignore their eyes as they pass by; you couldn’t care less about what they thought.

You look down at your hands and focus on blood caked under your nails, trying to rub the residue away. Some looked like it came off, but the red-brown still pigmented your skin. Chest tightening, you lean back in your seat and let your head knock back.

Peter’s blood was on your hands, both figuratively and literally.

---

A chill travels through your spine, bile working its way upward.

Was that really only a month ago?

The bell sounds, its ringing bringing you more despair than usual. Your conversation was brought to an end, MJ and Ned giving you a nod to signal their departure. They forced a smile your way, and you keep your calm composure even after they turn away.

Pulling the straps of your backpack closer, you take a deep breath before walking to class.

---

“First order of business: team captain. Miss Allan’s parting was unfortunate, but both she and I believe this team will do amazing at the international competition this summer. We just need a new captain.”

“Mr. Harrington, I’m honored-“

“Not you, Flash.”

You and Ned snicker under your breaths, earning your partner an elbow from Betty. MJ rolls her eyes at the two of you, but her smile gave away her amusement.

Decathlon was supposed to be done for the school year, but your team’s win at D.C. earned Midtown a spot at its international competition in Paris. You didn’t expect the school board to approve the trip, especially with the large expenses it ensued. But apparently, they found an anonymous donor.  

Though no one could figure out who would willingly spend tens of thousands of dollars for a kids’ trip to Europe, no one was complaining either, especially when they were paying to include an actual vacation with it. As ecstatic as everyone was about the opportunity, it also meant that you would soon be back to frequent practices. And as much as you enjoy this club, more work is never fun.

“After careful consideration of each of your prior performances, I’m happy to announce that our new captain will be none other than Michelle Jones.”

Harrington continued his announcements, but you already stopped paying attention. You nudge MJ after the scattered applause, mouth still agape.

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna be captain. Congrats!” you whispered.

“Well, to be honest, I didn’t know until just now. But I would have been pissed if I wasn’t.”

“And I would’ve had to listen to you complain about it, so it’s a win-win… can your first order be to rearrange the seating? I love Cindy, but sometimes she smells after gym.”

MJ scoffs. “Done, but it’s your fault if this all goes to my head.”

“Oh, I think it already has,”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just be quiet so I can listen.”

You roll your eyes as you let her turn away from you, grabbing your phone in the process.

You: Guess who the new captain is…

Liz: It better be MJ, I put in a good word for her and everything

You: It is lol. Good choice by the way, she’ll probably be a better captain than you

Liz: whatever 🙄

In the past month since she moved, the two of you found comfort in one another. Both of you fell in the direct line of fire, and as brutal as that was, it also meant that you weren’t alone.

+++

Lately, it seemed that your timing was nothing if not impeccable.

You speed walk to the cafeteria, breath getting heavier with each step. You’re usually one of the first in there, trying your best to beat the rush of students, but you just had to go to the bathroom beforehand. Amateur move, honestly…

Once you turn the corner, you stop in your tracks. Just ahead was Liz and her mom, both with boxes in hand. Her mom takes a right, most likely heading toward the office. All that was left was you and her, and the ten feet of tile in between.

“Hey,” you call out, gaining her attention. A tint of regret coats the air around you as you walk closer.

Where do you start, after everything that has happened?

“Liz, hey. What’s up?”

“Oh, hey. Nothing much, I’m just packing things from my locker and whatnot. My mom’s grabbing my file from the office, and after that we should be good, or whatever.” She sighs, looking down at her things.

“Wait, packing? Are you… are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, my dad doesn’t want us to see him in trial. We’re moving all the way to Oregon tomorrow. My mom has family there… nice area apparently, or whatever,” She purses her lips. “New York allows prisoners to call as often as they want, so no worries there, plus I’m all set for college so I can more or less breeze through senior year.”

You nod. Though you suppose the situation could have been worse, it was evident that Liz was hiding all the struggles she just got handed. Maybe if you were closer, you’d be able to comfort her, or tell her what she needed to hear.

“Liz, you’ve probably gotten this a lot, but I’m really sorry about what went down. I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”

There’s a pause before she finds your face again. “I think you do though. Maybe not exactly the same as me, but you were part of this too.”

You tilt your head, confused at her words. Setting her things down, she slings her backpack around to her front, unzipping it to find what she was looking for. “Peter left this in my dad’s car, but something tells me it was meant for someone else. It’s a little wilted now, but I still think it looks nice.”

In her hand was the rose that Peter had the night of the homecoming dance. You were so annoyed when you saw it. However, this time was different. You were not sure what you felt, but you were grateful nonetheless.

You take the flower from her, admiring the purple-red petals. Underneath, a card was tied around:

A rose for a rose.

You might not be my date, but can I SWING BY for a dance?

You let out a quiet scoff. If the pun didn’t give it away, the web doodles might have.

“You think I would’ve figured it out sooner,” Liz shrugged.

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t realize until it was right in front of my face," you joked back, earning a smile.

“I won’t tell anyone, by the way. He was just trying to do the right thing, and it’s not my secret to tell anyways.”

You nod at the gesture, relieved that things were not getting any messier. Not as much as they could, at least.

“I’m sorry too by the way…” she starts. “if I got in the way of you and Peter.”

You shake your head. “No no, it’s fine. Really. That was Peter’s choice to do that. I even told you we weren’t soulmates, so…“

“Yeah, well, I could tell that wasn’t the whole truth. Or at least, I couldn’t believe that it was the truth.” When you don’t reply, she continues on. “Obviously, I don’t know the whole story, or maybe even half of it, but almost everyone thought you two were soulmates before you even said anything. That’s gotta mean something, right?”

You pause for a moment. For someone who was only two years older, she was a lot wiser than you imagined. “Yeah, maybe it does… I don’t know, it’s just so complicated, you know?”

“I can only imagine.” She offers a smile. “But assuming he’s okay, wherever he is, I think it’d be a lot less complicated if you were in it together.”

With that, the conversation seemed to be over. You both knew that you weren’t really friends, but there was still a connection there. What happened homecoming night created a bond between you, a burning ember in a pile of ash. Everything died down, but there are still remnants that continued to burn.

If you guys chose to, you could let that memory die with the rest of the fire. But you could also choose to keep it alive and learn something from it.

Liz clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Looks like my mom’s ready, so I should go catch up. Thanks for saying goodbye.”

“Well, thanks for the mini therapy session. Hopefully, Oregon treats you better. If you wanna, you can text me once you’re all settled. We can talk, or whatever you want, really. Doesn’t even have to be about this.”

Her eyes light up at the offer, surprised at the generosity. “Yeah. I’d really like that. Thanks.”

You watch as she grabs her stuff from the floor and walk down the hall. The two of you send each other one last wave before parting ways, but you don’t move from your spot. Not until she was fully out of sight.

When she’s completely gone, you think about her words again. Maybe it would be easier.

Or maybe it’s just a faster route to trouble.

---

“You, me, Catacombs of Paris. It’s been on my list for years, and we are not missing out on that.” MJ declares, interrupting your daze. You didn’t even realize the meeting was over, most of the group already filing out of the library. “Jeez, how deep was your conversation with your pen pal? You look like you just woke up.”

You huff as you stood up from your seat. “How do you even know it’s her? Could’ve been my mom checking up on me.”

“Well, whenever you and Liz text, which is pretty regularly now, you get that weird crease between your eyebrows, and something tells me you’re not thinking that hard when you’re answering, ‘how are you’ from your parents.”

“You know, I think someone’s a little jealous that I have other girl friends to talk to.” You joke, checking her shoulder. “Any other creepy spots you’re forcing me to go to?”

Your friend’s face lights up, relishing at the opportunity to talk about her interests. You knew she had hours' worth of knowledge on the subject, and it gave you the chance to avoid talking about yourself. It wasn’t easy to distract MJ, but you had your ways.

It was easy to distract yourself from your current situation with Liz. After all, she was more or less doing the same thing. Your relationship was symbiotic; One of you would talk about your problems so the other could take their focus away from theirs, and vice versa. Mutual therapy, as you both called it.

The bonding made you feel safe. You made a friend and found someone that would need time to heal too.

At least, that’s what you thought.

For the last few conversations or so, the tone has taken a rather lighthearted turn. Liz started her new semester at Oregon a week earlier than Midtown, and she was already coming for the title of Ms. Popular. Though, with her being a hot, new senior, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

She was using her mom’s name for more privacy and was basically starting fresh. Liz even said she could still go to NYU if things died down after the trial. You were ecstatic for her, of course. She was incredibly strong for taking her life into her own hands and making the best of what happened, yet deep down you still couldn’t help but feel frustrated. In the end, even the people that have it worse still find ways to turn it around.

Your stomach turns. Maybe it wasn’t time that was the issue.

Maybe it was you.

---

Life’s kind of funny. Less than a year ago, you thought meeting the Avengers would be impossible. The only time you ever saw them was on the news or some badly edited PSA. For you, they seemed more fictional rather than real.

Now here you were, in the same car that Tony freaking Stark uses, being driven to the one and only Avengers Facility.

Despite the news about the Sokovia Accords, and the infamous “Civil War”, as they coined it, the building continued to stand tall and proud. The squeaky-clean windows and trimmed hedges were simply another reminder of how this lifestyle was beyond you.

Peter has been staying here for the past few weeks so the doctors could track his progress in private. With his mutated DNA and dangerous alien technology, they wanted to make sure there was not any permanent damage to his systems. Though this caused him to miss the rest of the semester, he knew it was for the best.

Despite taking a nasty hit, his super healing got him back on his feet, more or less. Just a few hours of physical therapy and some tests were enough to get Peter back to full mobility. However, he was still advised by the doctors to take things slow. Just because he could move doesn’t mean he should so soon.

This was the fourth or so trip here, yet every visit still felt like the first. All of this was so overwhelming, but you try not to let it show as you walk through the glass door. When you couldn’t find Peter in his room, your panic started to become visible.

Finding one guy in a 300,000 square foot building? How hard could it be?

Answer: not impossible, but still rather embarrassing.

After a few wrong turns here and there, you eventually made it to what seemed to be your destination. You wound up in a gym twice the size of your school’s. It had every piece of equipment one could need to train for a life-or-death mission, and you were struck with awe once again.

Your attention quickly focuses on the sounds of leather on leather. Across the gym was a boxing ring, holding none other than Tony Stark and your best friend.

The two didn’t notice you yet, so you took your time heading closer. Peter was in deep focus, his grey shirt tightening around him every time he threw a punch. Sweat covered the top half of the fabric as his curls brushed his forehead, and you could feel your throat drying up at his appearance.

You would have shown up earlier all those other times if you meant you got to see this…

“Y/N! Hey!” Peter greets when he finally sees you. “Sorry, I should’ve texted you that I was still in here. Guess I lost track of time.”

You wave it off. “Don’t worry about it. Looked like you were doing some good work.”

“Yeah, I sure hope so. Did you know the only fighting knowledge he had before this was from movies?” Tony interrupted, pointing a glove at the guilty party.

“Hey c’mon, Rocky is a solid resource,” He defended. “You ever seen it?”

The billionaire paused, mentally going through the five stages of grief. “Yeah kid, I think we’re done here. He’s all yours.”

“Sounds good,” You respond, turning back to Peter. “Something tells me you might need to freshen up before we start studying, so I’ll just meet you in your room. If I can find it, that is…”

The boy nods, feeling extra gross and sticky now that you brought it up. You send the two a small wave before walking out of the gym, trying your best to retrace your steps. Peter watches you until you vanish, to which Tony raises an eyebrow.

Maybe it was just him, but the spiderling was rather obvious with his emotions.

“Normally I’d say, ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’, but clearly you don’t listen to that,” He says, snapping Peter back into reality. “Just keep it in your room, alright? Last thing I need is to spray this whole place with disinfectant.”

Peter’s mouth parts, slightly uncomfortable at his mentor’s words. “What? No, it’s not like that at all. She’s just helping me with all the schoolwork I’ve missed.”

Tony immediately stops, punching pads half on. “That- that’s it? You get a second chance at life, and all you’re doing is studying?”

He shrugs. “Well, you know, I haven’t taken my finals yet-“

“Finals that you can pass if you just study the night before like a normal kid.” He walks closer to Peter. “You escape the jaws of death and the one thing you want to do is study? What happened to you teenagers and wanting to ‘live a little’?” He mumbles the last part, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t use this experience as an excuse to shy away. I’m not saying go off and be reckless, but at least have a little fun, yeah? Do what you want.”

From one man who had a near-death experience (or several) to another, maybe he had a point. But then again, if you try to sacrifice yourself multiple times, you must be more than okay with the thought of leaving this world and the people you care about.

Tony finally finishes packing up, while Peter was still in the ring, contemplating.

“She’s a good one,” he shouts to the boy, getting his attention. “Might even like her more than you.” He pauses, realizing how that sounded. “No offense, of course.”

The boy’s face sours as Tony keeps walking. “Some taken… oh and hey! I know it was you that paid for the Europe trip!”

“Nope! Wrong billionaire!” He swings the door open, turning around to look at Peter. “But uh, I think there’s a light festival the same weekend you’re in Prague. You should check it out.”

“Uh-huh…” he grins, playing along.

+++

Thanks to his powers, Peter’s hands always got extra sticky when he was nervous. So, when Mr. Stark called him to come to his office a week or so after the incident, he tried his best to keep his hands to himself.

“Hey, Mr. Stark. You wanted to see me or something?” he asked, awkwardly shuffling through the door.

Tony looks up from his phone and nods at Peter. “Kid, hey. How you feelin’?”

“Oh, well I’m actually doing pretty goo-“

“That’s great,” Tony interrupts. “Anyways, here you go.”

He slides a paper bag toward the boy, to which Peter responds by checking his surroundings. Was this a test? Because there are some major drug deal vibes happening right now.

“What the heck are you doing, kid? Just take the damn bag.”

Peter snaps back to the man and quickly snatches it off the desk. He peeks inside and is shocked when he sees the bright red and blue suit. He clutches the bag closer, afraid it would be stripped away from him a second time.

“You- you’re giving it back to me?” Peter grins.

“Well, it didn’t really teach you anything when I took it away, so I might as well just give it back. Plus, your other one looks ridiculous compared to this.”

His smile falls a little, and Tony quickly backtracks for clarification.

“What I mean is that you did good work. I didn’t believe in you after the ferry incident, but you were determined. You followed your heart and ended up catching the guy. However, you also ended up getting shish kabobbed and almost died, which isn’t as good.” Stark mumbles the last part, getting a little off track. “I told you before that if something happened to you, that it would be on me. But if you won’t listen to me then… I guess I have to mentor you, and make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “As in…”

“Training every morning. We can practice using all your suit’s abilities along with combat in case you’re stuck without it. We’ll track your health and progress to make sure you’re not pushing it. Last thing we need is you showing off and hurting yourself.”

“Yeah, got it.” He replies, mouth agape. “I- thank you, Mr. Stark.”

He couldn’t believe it. This was all happening so fast. A few days ago, he thought he was supposed to be dead on the sidewalk. Now, everything seemed to be going well. Maybe too well? How was Mr. Stark so calm about it?

“Well, to be honest, you shouldn’t be thanking me. It was your girlfriend that pretty much convinced me to do this. Y/N or something?”

He cocks his head. “Wait, Y/N? What do you mean?”

“We met at the hospital when you were under surgery.” He shrugs. “Kept telling me how you were a good kid who was going to help the city at all costs, that you were soulmates and this was doomed to happen, you should get another chance, etcetera etcetera,” He dismisses with his hands. “It was pretty moving, really. She really believes in you, so I thought I should do the same.”

Peter tries to keep a neutral face, but this information made his mind go even faster than before. You never mentioned that you met Mr. Stark, much less had an actual conversation with him. With all the crap he’s pulled on you, you still said all that. And to an Avenger, no less.

He doesn’t comment about Mr. Stark’s confession, only giving him another thanks followed with a goodbye. From the looks of it, Tony was rather done with the conversation anyways. He leaves as awkwardly as he came in.

As Peter walks back to his room, he notices the air around him feels lighter. Fresher, even. He smiles at the thought.

For the first time, in a very long time, Peter was optimistic for the future.

---

Never mind, maybe he should have died that night.

Studying was a far worse punishment.

Peter groans and buries his face deeper into his pillow, a string of obscenities following shortly after. You turn and frown at the sight. Sure, you weren’t any better during finals week, but this was just sad.

“C’mon dude,” you said as you shook his shoulder. “Get up. We’re almost done with this.”

He groans louder at your comment. “Too much work. Math isn’t even real.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Yeah okay. Tell that to Gonzales, I’m sure you’ll keep your number two spot after that.” You snort, not registering Peter’s shock as he propped himself up.

“Two? Don’t you mean one?”

Shit. “I mean, not exactly. Finals week happened a little bit ago. Grades change, you know?”

“Okay…” He gives you a look. “Well, then who scored high enough to beat me?”

Your lips tighten, but your silence, in turn, answers his question.

“No…” Peter realizes. “You- no….”

“Pete-“

“You’re first now? You took my freaking spot?”

Your mouth hangs open trying to think of a proper response and your friend scoffs. “Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “After all this time, I didn’t realize my best friend would become my enemy. Now I actually have to try.”

“Ouch. A nice congrats or something would have been nice, you know,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “Whatever, at least I’m being nice and trying to help.”

“Help? Or sabotage?” Peter smirks, sitting up. Stiff from his previous meltdown position, he clasps his hands together and stretches his arms upward. He doesn’t get very far before he flinches back down, hands now gripping his side as he quietly whimpers.

You immediately assume the worst as you turn closer to Peter, but he shakes his head, a sign telling you it’s nothing serious. He takes a few more deep breaths before looking at you, now sheepish.

“Sorry bout that. I think I overdid today,” he explained, gently rubbing his abdomen.

“Peter…” you pout. “Thought the whole point of you being here was so that you wouldn’t overdo it.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. I didn’t think a late-night workout would cause too much trouble,” he says, and your eyebrows furrow, disappointment evident. Peter slumps further down, throwing his hands up. “I won’t do it again, okay? It’s my last weekend here, anyways. I’ll take it easy for the next few days. Promise.” He then offers his pinkie to you, and you accept it with a sigh.

Your eyes wander down his chest, stopping at the top of his waist. You’ve never actually seen it, the wound and the scar that it left. At least, not since the incident. Your chest tightens at the thought. It was so bloody, and dirty, and just plain gross.

It was supposed to be the end of him, the end of everything you had. And now here he was, studying for a calculus test.

How was all that a month ago?

“Does it always hurt?” you ask before you could stop yourself. Peter follows your stare before looking at you again.

“Nah, just sometimes,” he starts with a small shrug. “It’s usually a dull ache every now and then, but it hurts more right now, cause, you know…” He looks away in shame. “Speaking of, I need to put this cream stuff on before I forget, supposed to keep it clean and help with the healing. I forgot to put it on after training.” He leans forward to grab the tube off his desk, and you could tell the easy motion was rather painful.

“I could do it if you want,” you offer, eyes widening immediately afterward. The two of you have been keeping physical distance between one another, and now here you were, basically asking to caress him. “I mean- if you think it would be easier.”

He takes a moment to think before giving a small nod, not saying anything as he hands you the cream. You both seem unsure of this, but you slowly grab the tube anyways. You take your time unscrewing the cap, giving Peter a chance to change his mind. When you look back up, he’s already staring at you, waiting for your next move.

You scooch closer toward Peter, and the air starts to get thicker. Tense. One wrong move could ruin this whole thing. You cringe at the thought. It’s not that deep, you tried to rationalize.

But this was Peter. Every small action meant something more.

Fisting the bottom of his t-shirt, you bring it to his chest to reveal the scar. You let out a shaky breath, looking at the newly exposed skin. It was the same as the last time you saw it: You could still see the tinges of pink under the lights, and his chest was still firm. But now all that was blemished with a horrid red line on his right.

That fucking scar. If looks could kill, your stare could probably reopen the wound that was once there. It makes you so frustrated to know the memory still stains his body. Peter once mentioned that his powers speed up his healing process, but marks like these last a lifetime for normal people, so you imagined that if it were to go away, it wouldn’t be for years.

You shake the thoughts from your head as you squeeze the cream onto your fingers, using your thumb to warm it up. Shifting your weight forward, you lean in even closer to him and gently touch Peter’s skin. The contact causes him to tense at first, but he eventually softens under your touch as you massage in the substance.

Peter doesn’t take his eyes off you. He watches how softly your fingers graze his scar, and how his skin was burning at the contact. It reminds him of that weekend: The hungry kisses, the skin on skin after you took your shirts off. Even when you were pulling him for more, you were never rough. You let him dip his toes first, making sure he was doing what he wanted.

Mr. Stark’s words come back to him. Live a little… have some fun… do what you want…

And right now, Peter thinks he wants more.

He sits up straighter (or at least as much as he could) and brings his hand up toward you, tracing your jaw with his fingertips. His thumb rubs the center of your cheek, bringing your focus away from his scar. You don’t realize how close the two of you are until you face him again. Peter’s stare flickers between your eyes and mouth, and you swallow hard. Though his touch was warm, your mind was frozen.

Were you supposed to do something? What did Peter want? Your questions were soon answered as he started to close the distance between you, ever so slowly. And though a part of you wanted to meet him halfway, memories cloud your head.

Blood.

Rubble.

Tears.

Peter holding on for dear life.

Fear shooting through your veins.

With a sharp inhale, you put your weight on your palms and back away. Peter stays where he is, his body a few seconds behind. After a few seconds, he lowers his hand down as concern floods his eyes.

“I- I should go,” you announce. Pushing yourself off the bed, you quickly pack your stuff away, not bothering to check if you got everything.

“I thought we were going to study more-“

“Just look up some practice problems online and you should be good. The curve helps a lot too.” You zip your backpack. “You’ll be fine without me.”

Peter fumbles for an excuse. “Well, it’s getting late, though. Wouldn’t you rather spend the night like last weekend?”

“No, it’s cool. Happy said they always have a driver on call just in case. Might as well put use them,” you shrug. “Anyways, bye!”

You quickly slam the door behind you, and Peter cringes at the sound. What the hell just happened? He brings his palms to his eyes with a heavy sigh. The last thing he wanted was for things to be awkward, yet he still managed to drive you out of his room and onto a two-hour car ride instead. Did he misread the situation that bad?

Meanwhile, you were still on the other side of the door, eyes wide. Did you really just do that? You were always so upset when Peter didn’t communicate with you, but now you were no better. You turn back to face the door, hand on the doorknob, yet the turn never came. Eventually, you let go and back away, and pull out your phone before turning the corner and out of the hallway.

At that same moment, Peter decided to stand up and follow you. Even if you wanted to leave, he didn’t want all his feelings to go unsaid. He pushes through the soreness and reaches the door, yanking it open.

He sticks his head out into the hall, but he doesn’t see you. Peter’s frame shrinks. A big part of him wanted to chase you, to see if he could catch up before you had the chance to go, but if you were already so far gone, it must be for a reason. With a frown, he slowly shuts his door, hoping that maybe you’ll come back before the click.

You never do.

Sleep never comes to you that night, thoughts about a brown-haired superhero circling your head. You knew that leaving was not the best idea. And not turning back when you had the chance was also not the greatest call. But at that moment, the idea of confronting your fears and worries seemed so much worse.

Grabbing your pillow, you smother yourself as you let out a quiet scream. By the time you uncover your face, you can already see the sun.

---

Neither of you mentions that night. Not that you were purposely avoiding the topic. In fact, you wanted to apologize for your abrupt exit, and maybe talk about what was going on between you two, but there was never a good time to do so.

Peter’s reappearance was not going as smooth as you thought it would. No offense to the boy, but you didn’t think many people would notice he was gone. But with the lack of Spider-Man sightings, and all the chaos surrounding homecoming weekend, people were chatty.

The first day he came back to school, Flash kept asking what happened to the friendly neighborhood hero. Poor Peter tried his best to blubber an excuse about him having a mission out of the country, but that just confused his classmates even more.

Others were asking why he missed all those weeks of school, which caused him to create an elaborate lie about having an extended family in Europe. It took everything for MJ not to outright laugh at the scene, which you later scolded her about.

Combine that and all the work he needs to catch up on, you thought it would be best to wait a little longer.

Eventually, Friday rolls around and all of you have survived another week. You, Peter, Ned, and MJ were talking around your locker before school when Ned claps his hands together, a lightbulb turning on in his head.

“Oh, dude! Now that we’re all here, we should all play some D&D!” He grins, getting giddier by the second. “We finally have a good amount of people, plus it’ll be a good way to have Betty get to know you all better as a group. I got this new book for Christmas and I’ve been planning a campaign for weeks. Spoiler alert: it’s awesome!” He quickly spits out, looking toward the group for a response.

Turns out Betty and Ned were soulmates, though no one knew until recently. Except for MJ, of course. When she gossiped about it homecoming night, Ned spilled all the beans.

They found out a few weeks after D.C., but though the two of them were pleased with the pairing, Betty didn’t feel ready to go into a relationship. Ned was accepting of this, being the sweetie he is, and the two of them are slowly building a friendship, though they are quite affectionate with one another. It was adorable, and slightly jealousy-inducing all at once.

MJ crinkles her nose. “I suppose I could try it. No promises that I’ll enjoy it, though.”

Ned, Peter, and you all stare at one another before bursting into laughter. Your amusement confuses MJ, but she doesn’t interrupt the moment.

“Oh Michelle,” you begin, grabbing her by the shoulder. “You are in for a world of fun.”

“Does that mean you’re in?” Ned points to you.

“Of course, dude! You’re the best Dungeon Master around. That, and your mom always has tons of snacks for us whenever we play.”

“I’ll take what I can get, I guess,” he scoffs. “Should we plan for tomorrow or something? I need to add a few more details and Betty should be free then too.”

“I’m good.”

“Same here.”

“Actually, I can’t. I’m busy.”

The three of you turn to Peter, who shrinks down in size and offers a shy smile.

“C’mon Pete. I get you have a lot of catching up to do but I’m sure a small game break wouldn’t kill you,” you said.

“No no, I get that.” He shakes his head. “It’s just that I was gonna start patrolling this weekend… “ he explains, and your blood runs cold. “But you guys go on and play without me, I promise to join next time.”

Ned nods, the three of them continuing to talk like normal, but you stay silent, keeping your eyes in Peter’s direction. Patrolling? How come he never told you about this?

It’s five minutes before class when MJ and Ned decide to leave, heading to their first period history together. Peter decides to go to class too, but you grab his arm before he gets the chance to turn away.

“Are you seriously going out? What happened to taking it easy?” you hissed. Though your tone was rather snippy, deep down you were terrified for Peter. Sure, he was fine now, maybe even better with all his training, but was he ready to go back out?

Were you ready for him to go back out?

“I’ve been taking it easy for a week, and people are starting to get suspicious. I don’t know if I can make it through another one of Flash’s confrontations without getting caught,” he sighs. “Look, can we just talk about this later? Class is about to start.”

You scoff. “You’re just trying to avoid the subject.”

“No, I’m not. I just don’t want to hear you lecture me when I’m already heading to one. And besides, I already know what you’re gonna say so what does it matter?”

“You literally just described ‘avoiding the subject’,” you bite back, concern turning into frustration. “Nothing good happens when we don’t talk, Pete.”

“Oh really? Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah dude, I’m pretty sure. That’s kinda how a friendship works.”

“Right. Friendship…” A pause. Peter’s face hardens as he looks at you. “Fine, let’s talk: why didn’t you kiss me?” he asks, jaw clenched.

Your hand lets go of his arm and falls slack. When you said you wanted to bring up the almost-kiss, you didn’t mean now. Why was he turning this on you?

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, if I can’t avoid the subject, then you can’t either.”

You shake your head. This was not the time to talk about this. He takes your silence as an answer and moves a step back.

“I’m going out. Tonight,” he announces. “I’m not waiting around.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply before he turns around and walks away. The action surprises you; Peter was never the one to walk away. If he was, it was because there was a danger that he needed to tend to.

This time, he willingly chose to.

You mull over what he said before he left. I’m not waiting around. He said it with such conviction. It almost sounded like he wasn’t talking about Spider-Man.

He was talking about you.

+++

You didn’t realize the Avengers had their own private hospital section, but considering their job description, you shouldn’t be surprised.

The stale, air-conditioned air of the hospital welcomed you the minute you entered. Goosebumps prickled your exposed arms as the atmosphere around you shifted.

Yeah, you really didn’t like hospitals. Especially now.

The nurses didn’t know anything of you or your involvement either, so they couldn’t let you go past the designated waiting room, leaving you all alone in a stuffy room. You’ve been staring at the fish tank for the last five minutes, waiting for someone to at least come in and talk to you.

Ugh, fuck this.

You texted MJ and Ned the news about Peter, which was a rather chaotic conversation. You promised you would let them know the whole story soon, but now didn’t feel like the time. Not when your other half may or may not be alive.

When you left the school, Ned spammed Stark Industries with emergency messages, which finally got Tony Stark’s attention. You overheard some nurses at the desk talking, and apparently, he was somewhere in the building, talking down a woman. You had no doubt that it was May.

God, if you thought you’ve been through it, you couldn’t imagine how she felt. To find out your nephew, who was basically your son, is a crime-fighting superhero is one thing. To find out he was almost killed and is currently fighting for his life all in one night is another. You were surprised her head didn’t explode right then and there.

Another ten minutes pass by before May comes out from the patient area, eyes red and completely distraught. Tony Stark was close behind her, holding the door open as May’s crouched figure passes through.

You stare at the two of them and accidentally make eye contact with the billionaire. He sends you a nod before heading back to the hospital rooms, like it was the only safe thing to do. The anger from before quickly disappeared; at least you weren’t the only one in shock.

“Oh, Y/N,” May says when she spots you. “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s super late, I think it’s safer if you went back home. I don’t want your parents to worry. Do you need me to call and talk to them? I can take you home if you need me to.”

“May, you don’t-“

“I mean it’s probably best if I go do something. I don’t think I can sit here for very long without pulling my hair out.”

“May-“

“This is all just hitting me so hard. I mean, how did I not even realize this? I feel so stupid. God, the nerve of Tony to pull this. I should have never trusted him-“

“It’s my fault, May.” You snap, ceasing her rambles. “I did this… I fucking caused all of this. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do and one thing led to another and… I killed him. I killed Peter. I am so sorry, May. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

May doesn’t respond right away, still processing everything you said. Her shoulders slump down slightly as she cocks her head. Out of all the news she got tonight, this one confused her the most. But as she focused on you and your shivering body, she realized she wasn’t the only one that had a rough night.

She takes your hands. “Let’s talk, alright?”

The next fifteen minutes were spent by you blubbering about everything. The soulmate memory, his Spider-Man secret, how you tried to keep apart, and how you found him downtown. You skip over the rather intimate parts, knowing it was probably not going to help May. Your face is red and splotchy by the end of it, and a handful of tissues covered the small table next to you.

May doesn’t say a word until you’re done. Though a nice gesture, her silence was more due to her complete shock.

“I am so fucking sorry, May,” you whisper at the end. “I should have told you, or someone, at least. It’s just that, it was Peter’s life on the line. I didn’t want to do anything and hurt him. I thought it was best if he made the call, but look where that got us.” You wipe your eyes and look away. The guilt was unbearable. May was nothing but caring to you, and you repay her by killing her nephew.

“God... I knew Peter was having a rough time, I always heard him at weird hours of the night, but I thought it was just school or something. I’ve always checked on him, but he would always say he’s busy.” She shakes her head. “I don’t blame you, though. I mean, I’m not exactly happy this all went down the way it did, but I can’t be mad at you for at least trying to save him, even when it hurt to.”

You sniffle at her words, trying to suppress any more tears. “He still got hurt, though. Peter being my soulmate cost him his life…” you whisper the last word.

May offers a sympathetic smile as she smooths your hair. “You know, people say the reason for soulmates is to be with someone you love forever, but it never takes into account some people’s forever is shorter than others,” she explains. “When Ben died… I was so angry at the world. Why give me this amazing person if I only got them for a short time? Sure, the world can give me another soulmate or something, but it almost defeats the purpose… makes it seem that I had to have this one soulmate before I had to a ‘real’ soulmate. Even after all this time, part of me will always want him…

“But even if Ben isn’t with me forever, I was with him for his forever, and I found a way to be okay with that. I gave him all the love I possibly could have, and I have no doubt in my head that it was worth it.”

You smile and nod at her words, but she could tell you weren’t completely getting the point. “You and Peter are great together, friendship or more. There’s no way he regrets spending his time with you, and I don’t think you do either. The two of you always had something special. Don’t push away from that, even if it might seem easier.”

You find May’s hands and give a firm squeeze, a silent way of saying thanks. For months, you have been trying to go for easy: less drama, fewer risks… but it was still a whole lot of pain. And for what? Never getting to be with your best friend in the way you truly wanted? May made it seem like the choice was obvious, and you wondered if it actually was.

A few quiet minutes pass until Tony Stark steps into the waiting room and approaches the two of you. You and May quickly stand up, waiting for the worst. You already experienced Peter’s “death”, you didn’t need to go through it again, especially if it’s real this time.

“Is he going to be okay?” May quickly asks, hands close to her chest, protecting herself from any hidden blows.

Tony’s mouth tightens before answering. “More or less…” he starts, looking down before continuing. “The wound was deep, and if he couldn’t heal as fast as he could, this would be a different story. However, it was still caused by dangerous, alien hybrid technology and he was already in a rough state prior to the… stab.” He cringes at the word. “Scrapes and bruises, a broken rib, some significant brain injury… Dr. Cho is doing the best she can, but as of right now, he’s in a comatose state.”

You gulp at the news. “So, what does that mean? When will he wake up?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“But- but he will wake up, right?” you clarify.

A pause. Tony’s jaw ticks. His eyes quickly leave you before blinking and meeting yours again, but you notice it. The doubt behind them.

“I don’t know…”

---

It’s almost midnight, which means you’ve spent the whole night worrying.

You were out on the fire escape freezing your ass off. It would only take ten steps maximum to grab something warm, but the bite of the wind kept you alert.

You weren’t going to leave until you knew Peter was safe.

He barely talked to you since this morning. He sat near Ned at lunch instead of you and took different routes to class. You texted him a few times throughout the day, but he never replied.

So, when you sent a message checking in on him with no response back, you weren’t sure if it was him ignoring you or that he was in danger. You let out a sigh of worry as your breath dissolved into the night.

You never realized how nice your view was. The most use your window got was when Peter came in, but that hasn’t happened for months. It’s crazy that you consider that a simpler time in your relationship.

Your ears focus on the sounds of the city. The bustling noises often brought you comfort, knowing that there were thousands of people going through the motions of life. Tonight, however, it sent a feeling of loneliness to your veins. New York kept going on while you were wallowing and worrying. It didn’t need you, even though you needed them.

A sudden urge to cry makes your throat tightens. You really hope that Peter was alright.

When you check the time again, you saw that a new day began. You decide to shove your phone back in your pocket. Watching the clock every ten seconds wasn’t going to help.

You sigh, maybe you’ll feel different today. Maybe you’ll feel warmer because holy shit is it cold outside. At what temperature does hypothermia kick in? That seems like a question to Google, not experiment.

You’re about to turn back when you hear a soft thwip, and a Peter hanging outside down on the stairs. You weren’t too sure how he was feeling at the moment, his covered eyes not giving any hints, but you send a soft smile nonetheless.

“I’m not a damsel in distress if that’s what you’re thinking,” you break the ice.

Peter turns himself right side up, taking a seat on the railing next to you. He pulls his mask off and drops it in his lap, and you can see his face isn’t as icy as this morning. But his mouth was pulled tight, unsure how to go about this.

“I’d consider frostbite to be a crime,” he shrugs. Luckily, you had your window open this whole time. With a quick webshot, Peter sticks and catches the sweater hanging on your chair before offering it to you. “Especially if Spider-Man can stop it.”

You bite your cheek. Part of you didn’t want to give in, but there was no way you could last another minute out here. Slowly, you grabbed your sweater, your fingers grazing the fabric of his suit. A way of saying thank you.

“Slow day?” you ask, pulling the sweater over your head. The extra layer was already warming you up, and your body relaxes a little.

“Well, considering the biggest thing I did today was helping tourists find their way to the subway, I’ll let you figure that out,” he laughs. “Though I suppose some good work is better than no work at all. At least the city knows I’m back.”

Peter realizes that the last sentence wasn’t a good idea, your face slightly dropping at his words. He tries to keep talking in hopes of distracting you. “So uh, any reason why you’re out here tonight?”

“I was waiting for you. Couldn’t sleep until I knew you were safe, I guess.” you sigh, looking back at the skyline. “I also wanted to apologize, for how I reacted. Even if I didn’t agree with you, I could have at least listened to you.”

Peter awkwardly nods, guilt surfacing at your confession. “I mean, I could have done the same thing too. I was so focused on the dumb rumors I let Flash get into my head. That was my first mistake,” he jokes, causing you to snort. “I’m not trying to get into myself into any death matches anytime soon, but I still want to help out, you know?”

“Always the hero… I learned that back in D.C.,” you sigh. “I guess I’m still trying to figure things out. Everything just feels weird right now, and I don’t think I’m making it any easier.”

He doesn’t say anything and faces back toward the city. He takes a breath of the city, smelling the mix of laundry detergent from your apartment basement and the exhaust from the streets.

For all his life, Peter was dedicated to New York. He loved going to the museums with May and Ben; he always tried to pay street performers with whatever spare change he had in his pocket; he rolled his eyes every time someone brought up New Jersey; most importantly, he wouldn’t take off the suit until he knew his home was safe, even if it was almost morning.

He’s done everything he could to protect his neighborhood and the people who need it most, yet he feels… almost distant from it all. As if Peter was trying to find something more to it. A faint memory passes through his head- what did Ben use to say all those years ago? Something like, “home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling”?

Peter’s brain sticks to the thought.

Suddenly, the last month hits him.

“I thought of you,” he starts, still looking out into the night. “When it happened, all I could think about was you.”

Your face softens as the beating of your heart becomes audible.

“I was so… angry about it all. I was so pissed off at myself. Even if I knew that was gonna happen, even if I knew or thought I guess, that that was the end, I was an idiot for not spending my time with you. I should’ve used whatever time I had trying to be something more to you, instead of pushing away what we already had. At least if I did die, I would be at peace with everything,” he chokes up a little at the end. “You’re my best friend, and one that somehow gets me. This place is my home and I’d do anything for it.” He turns his head closer. “But it’s nothing without you. Life feels complicated, it’s always been complicated… but I think it’d be easier if we were in it together.”

You bite your lip and pick at the skin. They’ve been chapped since you came out, but it didn’t stop you from using it to cope with your nerves. Peter was laying it all out on the table, and you were the one left silent.

“You don’t have to tell me why we didn’t kiss, it’s completely understandable if you rather just let it go. I’ve pushed you away too many times, it’s only fair you get to do the same at least once. But I want you to know this.” His eyes were bright under the moonlight.

The last hurrah.

“I would keep you in any possible way I could. I told myself that I need to be able to do what I want, and I want you, for however long I can get you,” he sighs. “If you’re not ready for that, okay. If you never want that- fuck – that’s okay too. I love you. I will always love you,” he says, passion dripping from his words and into your heart. “If you could wait for me, I can wait for you too. Whenever you’re ready, just say when. I don’t care what I’m doing, or where I am, I’m always going to be here with you. Even if you don’t want me, I’ll be here.”

I’ll be here…

+++

It took five days for Peter to wake up.

Five days of nonstop worrying and utter stress. Five days of you traveling to the hospital first thing after school until your parents texted you to come home. Five days of you not sleeping because you were waiting for the call, and you had no idea what to expect when it did.

The first day was somewhat bearable. May and you slept in the waiting room that night, and when you woke up, which was about four hours later, she took you home. Sitting in a sticky, vinyl chair was not helping you, and if May had to wait there for another minute, she was afraid she’d have another meltdown.

You were still a little numb from it all by the time you got back. It wasn’t until almost midnight that you started to realize, oh shit, you don’t know when Peter will wake up. If… he’ll ever wake up.

That first night you cried in your bed until the morning. Your face was swollen for the rest of the day, and when your parents came back on the second day, they were panicking that you had an allergic reaction.

You told May not to tell them. They didn’t need to know, and they didn’t need to coddle and worry about you. May, who didn’t exactly think it was a good idea, reluctantly agreed anyways. So, when your parents were fussing about your appearance, you laughed it off and told them you watched The Notebook the night before with some friends.

It was just easier that way.

The second day was spent with you wallowing in your room, waiting by your phone for something. May told you she would keep you updated and that you shouldn’t worry, which both of you knew was just empty advice. Hearing nothing was just as bad as hearing something.

Later that day, MJ sent a few news articles about the Vulture and his arrest. Apparently, his suit gave out not too long after he left the scene, causing him to suffer some internal injuries and harsh burns. He got caught by Stark Industries and was arrested quickly after, and is currently awaiting trial. It was likely that Adrian Toomes would be under bars for a while, and that brought you both relief and guilt as you tried to sleep.

The third day sent you to school, and at least gave you something to focus on. The tension between you and your friends was palpable, but no one bothered to address it, not sure where to even go. The only mention of that night was with Liz in the hallway before she left, and that was enough for you.

You went back to the hospital on the third day (after telling your parents you were staying at school for newspaper), and though there was nothing new about Peter’s condition, you still wanted to be there just in case. May was too busy with work to come in unless there was an emergency, and you hope that brought her more relief than stress.

You spent your visiting hours watching Peter sleep, or whatever people did when they were in a coma. You at least liked to pretend he was just sleeping, it made you feel better about his chances of waking up.

His face was so pale and frail under the fluorescents, and you wished he could wake up just long enough to get some actual food in him. You hoped he was at least somewhat at peace right now and resting away all of the stress he’s put himself under. The stress that you were also a cause of.

“I’m sorry, Peter. For everything,” you whisper. Even if he could hear you right now, you’re not sure you want him to. You slowly stand up from your chair and step closer to the boy, brushing his curls back. Gently, you lean forward and press a kiss to the top of his head, brushing the area with your thumb afterward. “I hope you’re doing okay…”

The fourth day is mostly the same. After school, you lied to your parents and went straight to the hospital. You quietly worked on homework while sitting next to Peter, glancing at him from time to time and sending his hand a reassuring squeeze every now and then. He looks the same as yesterday, and you’re not too sure if that’s good or not.

“You know he’s not going anywhere,” you hear from the doorway. Their voice was instantly recognizable. “Dr. Cho says he’s doing alright, though. Still don’t know when he’ll wake up, but he’s alright for now.” Tony Stark says.

You scoff. “No offense, but that ‘for now’ part doesn’t seem so reassuring.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, taking a seat next to you. “But considering this is probably my fault, I’ll take that over nothing.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault. It was bound to happen either way, no matter what you did, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says, isn’t it?” he mumbles.

“Trust me, I actually mean it. If we’re going to put blame on anyone it should be on me… or the universe or whatever.”

Tony tilts his head. “Universe as in…”

“-soulmates, yeah,” you answer. “In our future, we saw each other after the incident, and I thought he died… now here we are.”

“Right, here we are…” he repeats. “They told me someone else was there at the scene when I got to the hospital, but I wasn’t sure who they were referring to until I saw you afterward. Nice to meet officially meet you…”

“Y/N,” you introduce yourself.

Tony nods. “I’m sorry about how all that went down though. I knew the kid wants his identity to be a secret so I tried to keep everything under wraps as much I could.”

“No hard feelings,” you smile. “I was definitely upset at the time, but I could tell you were just as worried as I was. You wanted to protect him… I do too.” You turn and look at Peter, watching his chest go up and down with his breath. “I’d do anything for him.”

You don’t notice Tony’s faint smile as he watches you and Peter. Young love was beyond him, and watching it happen right in front of his eyes was both sweet and nauseating.

“I should be heading back, I only came here for a quick check-in. Still have some loose ends to tie up regarding press, but nothing to worry about.” He stands up, straightening his jacket. “Glad we got a chance to chat.”

“Me too.” You watch as he walks away, words still at the tip of your tongue. “For what it’s worth Mr. Stark,” you begin, gaining his attention again. “Peter is the type of person who would do anything to save people. He looks out for his family, his friends, me… I can’t imagine someone who’s more of a hero than him, and that includes the Avengers. No offense,” you half-joke. “Whatever you decide to do with him, I hope you give him another chance. He’s really amazing- powers or not.”

He nods, impressed at your words. Tony doesn’t say anything, choosing to offer you a smile before turning away, leaving you and Peter alone. You don’t stay much longer after he leaves, and you follow yesterday’s routine of kissing Peter’s head before heading out.

The fifth day is rainy, perfect to match your somber mood. School decided that today would be a great day to kick your ass and give you tons of homework, even though finals week was already fast approaching. You also forgot an umbrella this morning, and your clothes were still damp from your walk from the subway station. For the cherry on top, no one has had any updates on Peter since he went under, and your hope was starting to falter.

Without thinking, you took Peter’s hands in yours and started to fidget around with his fingers. The cuts on his knuckles were turning pink and gradually healing, while the calluses on his palms were still evident. Much of the skin around his joints were rough, but it meshed so well with the smoothness around it. You were never touchy with other people, but you desperately wanted Peter to squeeze your hands back. At least show some indication that everything was going to be okay.

When you actually felt a squeeze, you almost couldn’t believe it.

You straighten in your chair and turn your head up. A slow flutter of the eyes and a twitch of the lips make your body tense in anticipation. Is he…?

“Peter?” you whisper.

A quiet groan escapes his mouth as Peter’s eyes gently open, taking in the bright lights. You sigh in relief and blink away at the tears trying to come. This better not be a dream.

“Y/N?” he asks, voice dry and scratchy.

“Oh jeez, maybe don’t talk yet. I’ll go grab you some water and tell the nurses you’re up, okay?” you loosen your grip on Peter’s hands, but he squeezes again.

His head does the tiniest shake as he stares down, watching where your fingers touch his. “Stay. They’ll figure it out.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Fine,” you give in. You’ll be out of here soon enough when they find out, and you wanted to spend time with the boy who came back from the dead. “If I get in trouble though, you cannot play the ‘sick patient’ card.”

Peter lets out a gravelly laugh, his body still trying to figure out how to be awake. “I’ll try my best…” he mumbles.

“You’ll try your best? Seriously?” you scoff. “You finally wake up and your first words are some half-ass promise?”

He takes a deep inhale, both humored and annoyed at your teasing. “Fine. I promise I won’t… as long as you promise to be here.”

You smile at his quiet words, taking his knuckle and forcing his pinkie finger up. You gently wrap yours around it, looking him dead in his tired eyes. “I promise I’ll be here,” you whisper.

”I’ll always be here…”

---

A month ago, you promised Peter that exact same thing, and it feels like you already broke that promise. The world has offered you a second chance, and you were doing the same thing Peter did the first time: pushing away out of fear. Could you really waste another five months doing that again?

Could your heart handle that?

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable or something,” Peter stammers. “If you need some time alone, that’s cool,” he offers, fumbling to put his mask back on.

“-Peter, wait.”

He immediately freezes, looking at you with wide eyes. The wind was starting to pick up, and his curls gently blew in the breeze. The dry air irritates his lips as he picks at it, waiting for your next response.

You move closer to him, inch by inch on the railing; your hands are almost touching, your pinkie desperately wanting to link with his gloved one. You take a deep breath and let it trap in your chest as you stare at the boy in front of you.

Peter Parker.

Spider-Man.

Your soulmate.

But most importantly, your best friend.

The wind moves through your hair and chills your body, yet it jumpstarts every nerve in your system. Peter was alive; you were alive; and fuck, was it a good feeling.

You wanted more, so you leaned in. Your nose touched Peter’s and your mouths closed the gap. A small, innocent kiss to tell him you want more, and that it was his call to keep going. When you stop, and Peter realizes that yes, you did just kiss him, he comes back for more. And he’s not looking to stop anytime soon.

His hand lets go of the railing and wraps around the small of your back, keeping you close and balanced. He keeps the other one gripped tight to the metal; he doesn’t trust himself to not get dizzy from you.

You cradle Peter’s face and deepen yourself into his presence. Your heart is hammering against your chest and you love it. It makes your body heat up and radiates the air around you. You hum against his mouth as you suck on his bottom lip, making Peter whine at the feeling. Your sweater rides up as you press yourself closer, and his thumb draws circles on the exposed skin. The small action makes you smile; you were only half-sure you weren’t crying at the amount of love that was running through your veins.

It seems like forever until you two are pulling away, absolutely blissed out and breathless. Neither of you go that far, faces still just a space or two away.

You look into Peter’s glassy eyes. If something were to happen to him, if you had to say goodbye to him in the worst way possible, if you had to grieve for a lifetime in order to move on, if you had to spend every day thinking of him and crying until your face was red and dry…

It was worth it. You were grateful to be loved by Peter Parker.

You catch your breath and take a slow inhale. It smells like cedarwood. Home.

You lean forward again and Peter meets you halfway. Your lips are just touching when you whisper into his mouth his new favorite word.

“When.”

Part 4 / Masterlist

Taglist: @eridanuswave @spideylovin @mktravelbuggie​  @bintfalastin8​ @runway-to-my-aid​ @selfcarecap @peterbenjiparker​

[phoenotopia]

The Last Phoenotopia Blog Update

(Date 2021 MAR 01)

I debated how to open this blog post, but perhaps the main crux of this blog post is the best place to start. The blog is being retired.

The purpose of this blog was to be a "development" blog for Phoenotopia, and well, Phoenotopia's development is done. I'll still be doing bug fixes and maintenance on the PC and Switch versions, and playstation and xbox ports are underway (by a publisher). But I'm not going to be making any more major changes to the game. At some point, you put the paintbrush down and say it's done. Blemishes and all.

Recent Events

The game launched on Steam last month, and like any launch, it was hectic. Bugs Galore. This is our first commercial PC launch, so it was a real baptism by fire. Unlike Switch's one configuration, the PC has multiple configurations and factors to account for. The game needed to be able to handle multiple control schemes, screen resolutions, refresh rates, and more! I had a 60Hz monitor going into launch and didn't know anything about Hz (I do now). There was a troublesome stutter that some players were sensitive to that my whole team didn't notice since our eyes compensated it away. There were a few times where in fixing something at one party's behest, it introduced problems for another party. A few times, due to disorganization, I unwittingly rolled back a fix that was meant to be applied. For some, the game couldn't play at all (really glad Steam allows refunds).

It was messy. It was tiring. I.AM.BEAT.

I think the worst of it is over... I'll still be around to do the last updates and bug fixes, but I'm ultimately ready for what's next.

SO what is next?

What isn't next... is Phoenotopia 2. As you may have heard down the grapevine, the game couldn't be what you call successful. No one's earned even minimum wage on it.

Maybe there's hope in the game's long tail. A year or two down the line... maybe. I won't hold my breath though. At some point in the past few months, I finished processing (or grieving) and it's time to move on.

The game has at least earned enough for us to continue our modest operations. As long as we don't expand the team, and we don't take another monster six-year dev cycle like what Phoenotopia took, we can continue. We'll have to be smarter and faster. Perhaps the most valuable thing we gained from all this is experience.

The Experience

It is a dev blog. Here are some of the lessons I've accumulated from this game's development.

- Have a good menu design. Menus aren't just that in-between fluff before you get to the good stuff. Menus are KEY. Your menus need to be robust, expandable, and *understandable* (to you, the developer). Because once the game's out, you will invariably be asked to add more options. And if your menu design is bad, every time you have to add a new menu option, it becomes a whole new pain all over again. Support mouse from the get-go, etc.

- Focus on features that people will actually care about. For instance, I've never seen anyone praise the camera's zoom feature. In practice, people try that feature a few times and then never use it again. But that feature was a constant consideration factor for every level. Run through it multiple times to make sure the level didn't break, think about which zoom levels made sense, resize rooms because they worked at one zoom level but not the other, and so on.

- Don't do boxes that you can move around. Other 2D platformers avoid movable boxes because they're a huge headache to program and they really complicate the game space. Enemies need to respond to boxes you throw in their path and either navigate around or attack it. When you're moving the box, you have to worry about constantly changing your collision size and reconciling when the box gets snagged on the environment. The boxes were also a constant source of bugs because people can manipulate them to soft-lock themselves and more.

- More focused script. Phoenotopia's 100,000+ word script was panned more for being bloated than it was praised for being lengthy. Long scripts take a long time to write and make the game more unwieldy, increasing the costs of translation and upkeep. Every update we're addressing some textual error or mistranslation. There are some highly renowned games (e.g. Hyper Light Drifter) that do without a script at all!

- Be flashy! A bat and a lightsaber take the same amount of work to program, but the lightsaber will draw a lot more attention and interest.

- Slopes, surprisingly! Six years ago when I started, Unity was ill-equipped for 2D games. If you used the physics that Unity provided you'd have a really floaty character that wouldn't adhere to the slope when going downhill. There were a hundred different tutorials saying different things (use forces, use move position, use translation, etc). You can get rectangular collisions done in a day, but to do slopes took weeks. Meanwhile, games can actually get by fine without slopes. Most people won't even notice. Did you know the Phoenotopia flash game didn't have slopes? Neither does Hollow Knight or Rogue Legacy. You can save yourself a lot of work by avoiding slopes.

(big entities look weird on slopes. Bad slope!)

I could write enough little knowledge nuggets like this to fill a book! But I'd rather just make the next game. 

So… what IS next?

As mentioned previously, it's not Phoenotopia 2. Pirate and I are mostly just tossing some ideas back and forth right now. We'll go silent for a year (or two). Our next game's scope will be more modest in some ways, more ambitious in others. It will definitely be more smartly designed. (There will be a map!)

We'll announce it when it's ready for the public. It might be necessary for us to do a kickstarter. I've tried to avoid kickstarters having been burnt on quite a few myself and also because I worry that mismanaging a kickstarter would earn the ire of backers.

But I did keep this blog regularly updated for six years. So I've gained some confidence in my abilities to at least manage a kickstarter well.

Is it really the last Phoenotopia Blog update though?

Okay, not really. There is some news that I'll need to announce, and this blog is one of the game's main outreach channels. Here are the events that will cause me to update the blog:

Announcing the launch of the xbox/playstation ports when they're ready

If a physical edition of the game happens

If a new language is getting introduced into the game (Korean is a high possibility)

When we're ready to talk about our next game

If (BIG IF) we begin development on a Phoenotopia sequel. I do want to do a sequel one day if we have the means and the demand is there. 

Those updates will be more on a "when they happen" basis, rather than me reporting in every couple months.

Fan Art

As always, I'm very happy to see fanart of Phoenotopia. Major thanks again to Pimez for collecting all the artwork from the corners of the internet! Since this is the "last" blogpost, Sir Pimez can finally take a rest from collecting the fanart :P

ÆV made a series of pictures that tell a story. A Pooki is humanely sheared of its wool to create a hat. The Pooki is unharmed. Nice! Gotta love Gail’s expressions.

Amagoo Mazeru makes a stunning landscape shot of a full moon and shooting stars. It’s a sharp and clear vector art. I like the faint glow of the moon and the fire and the subtle gradient in the night sky. Very skillfully done!

Hah hah. I got a chuckle out of this one. I imagine this is how Gail's enemies see her by the end of the game. CaESar made this image based on TerminalMontage's famous youtube videos. Nailed it!

CrownStar drew two pictures of Gail. I'm a big player of JRPGs, so the first shot instantly reminded me of Persona 4's art style. (Hmmm... Phoeonotopia as a JRPG... there’s potential there...) Next, Birdy is shown carried off after her defeat. I really like Birdy's expression here - she just seems mildly uncomfortable.

There's a bit of a story behind the first image. As Firanka shares it, she wasn't able to defeat the Big Eye monster at the end of the flash game, so she believed a tall tale that what awaited after was a 6 armed Kobold boss. Hilarious! The second is a rendition of the lonely Anuri elder. A rare subject. The loneliness is portrayed well here. I feel lonely just looking at it!

Koo_chop draws the clash between Gail and Katash at the top of the towers. I really like this interpretation of the game's art style. It’s faithful to the in-game graphics. And the lighting, from the glow of Gail's bat, to Katash's sword, and the lightning in the background... Amazing!

Lime Hazard shows Gail with a salute pose. Very appropriate for this occasion. I also like how there's a slight tilt in the angle that Gail is portrayed. Those dynamic angles are always hard to get right, and Lime Hazard pulled it off very skillfully. See you next mission!

Lyoung0J with a digital painting of Gail posed sitting on a rock. I like how it almost seems like she was caught in a candid moment - she’s smiling, but also feeling self-conscious. Cute! The art style really pops, and I like how Gail is sporting what I call the old anime style nose. 

MyUesrNameIsSh*t with a sketch of Gail performing a skillful slingshot. I like how Gail is depicted with her tongue out in a mischievous manner, the way all mischievous people with slingshots do.

Niitsu Kentaro returns with a 2021 Happy New Year picture. That happened didn't it? A New Year... Gail's pose gave me a chuckle with how she seems to be waving the bat around as casually as one would wave hello. And "Phoenotopiyear"... Well said! One day we'll have our Phoenotopiyear...

Ochan Nu breaks all records with a stunning NINE pictures in one session :O

There's so many goodies here. My favorite would be the one with Gail staring intently at the screen - it's like she's looking directly at you. You almost feel uncomfortable.

Next, there's an Animal Crossing villager dressed as Gail and sporting her pink hair. It even looks like a house Gail would live in. Gail is a connoisseur of the arts and likes Mona Lisa. Yes :)

There are various comics of Gail pointing out Gail's weird food habits. A picture of Fran looking really cool, and even Gail rocking a bathing suit. (bathing suit image linked here in case NSFW). Wow!

Pimez didn't just collect the arts, he creates them as well! This one, which he aptly named 'The Year 175' is a depiction of when the dragons invaded the towers as told by an elderly Daean woman. Great pixeling skills! I got a good chuckle from the ice dragon leaving with its stuff slung over its shoulder.

Quo made a stunning picture of Gail playing the flute surrounded by the 5 musical notes and the Phoenix logo behind her. The theme seems to be "fire" and it works really well. Gail herself looks awesome depicted in her red suit - it's like she's leading a marching band!

Rai Asuha depicts Gail in the late game with her red suit, and night star bat, and holding a lamp. She looks ready for adventure! I really like the white outline here and Gail's poofy shoulders here - the art style feels reminiscent of Final Fantasy Tactics.

Seri also draws Gail bearing her late game equipment. Unique to Seri's drawing is how all of Gail's equipment is accessible from a pocket on her shirt. I also like how Gail is depicted with her lucky earrings - that accessory is often forgotten.

Treedude depicts Gail with a bat and wearing a funny smirk. She looks like she's ready to hurt someone!

Warotar returns with everyone's favorite Great Drake, Bubbles! It seems so happy to be featured!

I'm really grateful for all the fanart this game has received. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

Closing Notes

Pirate drew a picture to mark the occasion. It shows Gail enjoying a hot chocolate with marshmallows and a pumpkin muffin. A rest well-earned...

Goodbye! Until next time!

[abused-sides]

Ooh, I was looking at the prompt list, and thinking about a bunch of different ones, but it gave me an idea. Going back to the Roomates AU, what if Roman and Virgil got into a really bad fight, and Virgil was in the wrong, and he thinks everyone is super super mad at him, so he thinks he has to leave, and he talks to his ex about going back, because he thinks he deserves to be in a bad situation, but Roman finds out and he explains that being wrong sometimes doesnt make Virgil a bad person?

A/N: For context, this takes place before Virgil and Roman get together romantically, but while they’re getting closer. Also before Logan comes out as nonbinary, so he still uses he/him. 

A/N: Also, super sorry, but this prompt is changed up a tiny bit. The fight is concentrated with Virgil and Patton (although Roman was definitely involved, prequel later), and it’s actually… someone else who gives Virgil the Talk. 

Trigger warnings: ABUSE SURVIVOR AU, self-destructive/self-harm behavior (not violent), manipulation & gaslighting from an unsympathetic oc, fighting between the sides (resolved), past lashing out, minor panic attacks

Virgil had been locked up in his room for days. 

His roommates argued over what to do. Logan insisted he just needed some space to decompress and think the situation over, but Roman and Patton couldn’t stop worrying. 

“What if he hurts himself?” Patton asked. 

“What if he thinks we hate him?” Roman asked. 

“He’s going to come out when he’s ready.” Logan sighed and took their dirty plates away to the sink. “There’s nothing we can do right now. We can’t talk to him if he won’t even open the door.” 

Patton pulled his coffee mug closer and worried his lip between his teeth. “I guess so,” he mumbled. 

In his room, Virgil stared at the pile of letters Patton had hid from him for three months. They were all opened, but not by Virgil. Virgil hadn’t touched them since he dumped them on his desk a few days ago. 

How did he find me? 

He drew in a shaky breath and grabbed the first envelope. 

My dear Virgil, 

I’m at a loss for words. What could I have done that was so bad for you to leave, without even telling me? Didn’t I at least deserve that? 

Guilt churned in Virgil’s stomach. He had to leave without telling him, his ex wouldn’t let him go otherwise. Right? He wouldn’t have let Virgil go. 

My home— our home, will always be here, waiting for you. You can always come home. I won’t be mad. I promise. 

I won’t lie, I’m very sad. It’s been hard to go on. The house is quiet without you. And the fact that you’d leave it for where you are now? I can’t even pretend to understand. 

If this is what you really want, then you should do it. 

But don’t I at least deserve a goodbye? 

It was signed with his name. 

Virgil had already read this one, several months back when it first came in. It didn’t have the same impact it did before, not with everyone else’s words swimming in his head, proving his ex wrong. It still hurt. 

He picked up another letter. 

My dear Virgil, 

Do I not deserve a response? 

I hate to make you uncomfortable. It’s why I don’t show up at your door, like I could, and demand your attention. 

I’m always thinking about you. Are you thinking about me? Do you want to come home? 

You can come home. 

Another. 

My dear Virgil, 

Something is telling me you aren’t getting these letters. Even if I wasn’t granted a response, I’d at least see a reaction. 

Virgil’s stomach dropped. A reaction? 

Are your roommates protecting you? Isn’t that a little unfair, a little rude? To meddle with our relationship? We can solve this on our own. 

Don’t you want to come home? 

He flipped the envelope over. There was no stamp, only a return address. These were hand-delivered. Virgil might have thrown up. 

He thought back to his life before. The one thing that always got him was how dreadfully boring it was, the same thing over and over again, no end, never leaving. He had his plants and his sketchbook and his cooking, but that was all. 

But is boring really the biggest complaint he has? 

A lot of people go through worse. Roman— Roman went through worse. Roman had a reason to leave. Virgil was starting to think he didn’t. 

Another letter. 

My dear Virgil, 

I just wanted to remind you that I still love you. I won’t be angry if you decide to come home. I just want to take you back and lie you down in bed, wrap myself around you like I used to. If you come home, we can lay in bed and watch T.V. all day. We’ll order in. I’ll buy you a whole garden, if you want it. 

I’m willing to change. 

Don’t you want to come home? 

Virgil hated how it affected him. He fought back a smile, pressing the letter to his forehead and simultaneously trying to remember and forget. 

There weren’t many days like his ex described. They were rare, in fact. Did that just make them more special? Not many days where they cuddled under the blankets, the heater going as the snow fell outside. Not many days where Virgil didn’t have to cook, where they ordered from his favourite restaurant and ate in bed. Not many days his ex wrapped his arms around Virgil’s middle and pulled him close and murmured that he loved him. 

With Roman, that could be any day. Multiple times a week, sometimes. Did that make it less special? 

He didn’t want to leave Roman. But did he deserve Roman? 

E., 

Do you really want me back? 

His hands trembled as he wrote. Once he started, he found he had a lot to say. Some of it felt demanding, but if he was going to go back, there had to be some change, or he’d lose his mind. He didn’t ask for much. Barely anything, in fact. Some more days to eat in here, some days outside there. His own bank account. Maybe a day where he could borrow the car. 

It could be better, right? No more than he deserved, but better. 

He wondered if being with E. for so long, only really interacting with him, is what rubbed off on Virgil, or if he was like this from the start. Did it come from his parents? Did it come from him? Was it just him? 

Virgil hid the letter and came out of his room. 

“Virgil?” Roman jumped to his feet, but stayed at the kitchen table. His eyes were wide with worry. “Virgil, are you okay?” 

“I’m okay,” he promised softly. “Where are the others?” 

“Logan’s with Remus and Janus. Patton’s dropping off some orders.” He hesitated, drumming his fingers over the table. “Do you…?” He opened his arms. 

Virgil pursed his lips. He wanted desperately to fall into his boyfriend’s arms, but his stomach churned with guilt. He crossed the room to nuzzle into him, trying to ignore how bad he felt by rationalizing he would be gone soon. 

Something crinkled. He froze. Roman’s arms were around his waist, squeezing against the letter tucked in his waistband around his back. He waited. 

“We need to talk about what happened,” Roman said, and Virgil slowly relaxed. 

He pulled away. “Okay.” 

Roman cupped Virgil’s face. “We’ll wait until Patton gets back, okay?” 

Virgil nodded. 

Roman and Virgil sat in the living room together, watching movies while they waited for Patton. Roman sat on the couch with Virgil at his feet, working in his sketchbook. Roman eventually leaned forward to rub Virgil’s back. Virgil pressed his forehead to his knees, eyes fluttering shut. 

When Patton got home, his eyes widened. “Verge, hey!” He set his keys on the table and inched into the living room. “Are you feeling okay?” 

Virgil hesitated, and shrugged. “We need to talk, right?” 

Patton settled in the armchair nearby. “I think it would help.” 

They all hesitated, then Patton said, “I’ll start. I’m… I’m really sorry I hid the letters. I was really scared.” 

Virgil frowned. “Why?” 

“Well…” He avoided his eyes. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

Virgil’s chest squeezed. “Right. I- I’m sorry about that.” 

“And I didn’t want you to be, I don’t know… tempted?” Patton forced a smile and wiped his eyes. “But you’re stronger than that, I know.” 

Virgil frowned. His brain faltered a little, and he opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. 

They must have mistaken his struggling for silence, because Roman said, “We understand why that happened,” he squeezed Virgil’s shoulders, “but we need to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” Virgil promised instantly. “It won’t, I promise.” 

Patton and Roman looked at each other nervously. 

“That’s good, kiddo, but how do we know?”

“Trust me.” Virgil blinked back tears, his voice thick. “It won’t. I won’t let it.” 

“That’s not really how it works, stormcloud. You didn’t choose to lash out, so you can’t really choose not to. It happened because of something else.” 

Virgil stood on shaky legs. “Please trust me. I… I’m working on it. I’m working on something.” 

Patton and Roman stood as well. “Can we help?” Patton asked. “You don’t have to do this alone, Verge. It’s why we’re here.” 

Virgil shook his head. “No, I don’t need help. I— I need a walk. I’m sorry, I need… I just need some space.” 

“Okay,” Roman said softly. “Thanks for talking to us.” 

Virgil quickly kissed Roman’s cheek, then grabbed his coat and hurried out the door. 

Part of him was terrified of walking alone— What if E. came by and snatched him without warning? All his stuff was at home and his friends would never know what happened to him. 

But it was good to get some space to breathe. He walked to the post office and slipped his letter in the box, then took the long way home. 

A few days later, he got a response. 

He made a habit to check the mail himself, three times a day. Everyone assumed he had a bit of trust issues now, which wasn’t entirely wrong. 

My dear Virgil, 

It took you a while to get back to me. 

Virgil frowned, shifting uncomfortably. 

I was afraid you’d given up on me. Of course you’re still allowed back home. When can I pick you up? 

Virgil breathed shakily. 

They wrote back and forth over the next two weeks, negotiating pick up, travel, times— Virgil didn’t realize he was stalling. He kept wondering if it would be better to tell his friends or keep it to himself. He didn’t want to worry them. He didn’t want them to feel guilty, and obligated to stop him. He just wanted to quietly go and not bother them anymore. Not infect them anymore. 

That is what he wanted, right? 

One day, he came out to get the mail and frowned. The box was empty. At this point, he’d been getting a letter from E. every day. They weren’t exactly slowing down with their communication— they’d just agreed Virgil would meet him in a few days. E. was excited. 

A door creaked open. “Virgil?” 

Janus leaned in the doorway of his and Remus’ apartment, a letter between two fingers. “We need to talk.” 

Virgil paled. He felt like he was going to pass out. 

“Come on. Remus is at work, let’s talk.” 

Virgil hesitated, then reluctantly followed him into the apartment. Janus shut the door and handed Virgil the letter. 

My dearest Virgil, 

I’m so excited to see you again. I promise, you’ll be happy. I’ve already made some changes to the house that I think you’ll really like. And we can keep talking about the car thing, too, if you really must. 

Virgil smiled a little. 

He gasped as Janus snatched the letter back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He hissed. 

Virgil shrunk in on himself. “I… I have to go back, you don’t understand.” 

“What, because you blew up, once? Because someone invaded your privacy? Something you just got back after three years of nothing?” Janus crossed his arms over his chest. “You have to go back? Have to?” 

He scrubbed at his eyes, collapsing into the desk chair. “Yes. I— I fucked up. I’m just going to keep hurting them—” 

“People hurt each other,” Janus snapped. “That’s what they do. You didn’t do it on purpose, did you?” 

“I didn’t even realize what I was doing,” Virgil whispered. “I just… got mad. And I couldn’t stop yelling, and…” Tears dripped down his face. “I couldn’t control it. I can’t— I can’t be like that, I can’t put them through that again.” 

Janus crouched down and forced Virgil to meet his eyes. “You are not a bad person,” he stressed. “You just got out, what, a year ago? Less? It’s not like you’ve got a weekly therapy appointment. You’re figuring this out on your own, it’s going to be hard.” 

“Stop making excuses for me,” Virgil begged. “I can’t explode on people like that!” 

“You can’t make a habit of exploding on people.” Janus sighed, elbows on his knees. “You made a mistake. Nobody wants to banish you for it. Sometimes people hurt each other. Fuck, Roman and Remus hurt each other twice a week— that’s a toxic relationship. But they’re working on it. That’s all you have to do. This?” He held up the crumpled letter, and spat, “This will not help anything.” 

“I deserve—” 

“Nobody deserves that.” Janus narrowed his eyes. “Nobody.” 

Virgil buried his face in his hands as he shook with sobs. Janus stood and rested a hand on his shoulder. He stayed silent while Virgil cried it out, eventually finding Janus’ hand and gripping onto it for stability. 

“What do I do?” 

“First things first, you need to tell your roommates about this.” 

“What?” Virgil’s head snapped up. “No! I—” 

“You’re clearly in a destructive head space, and I can’t stop you from self-sabotaging yourself every time.” Janus raised an eyebrow. “This was almost bad. They need to know.” 

Virgil sniffled. “I don’t— I can’t.” 

“I’ll go with you. Alright? You need to tell them, and I’ll help you.” He held out his other hand. When Virgil took it, Janus helped him up. “Come on. Let’s go tell them.” 

Virgil wanted to throw up. He wet his lips, and nodded. “Okay. Okay. I can do it.” 

He followed Janus out. 

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[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Lockscreens (ch. 5)

tw: Pining, mentions of stripping (playful)

Word count: ~2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff

All trigger warnings will be tagged and posted at the beginning of each chapter! This will have *manga spoilers*

Pairings: Bokuto x fem!reader, Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Bokuto left the love of his life for volleyball. Despite all the time, he’s still very much in love with her. He comes home to a major surprise leaving him wondering…What happened while he was gone?

AN: There is an official Lockscreens Spotify playlist! Please feel free to give it a listen 💖

Masterlist | prev | next

ch. 5: Best Friends (19 weeks)

The blaring sound abruptly drew him out of his deep slumber. “What?” He muttered, rubbing his face.

“Kurooooo,” she whined. “I need your help.” He furiously blinked, trying to rub the sleep away.

“What’s up?”

“I have these super bad cravings, do you mind picking it up and getting it for me?” 

Kuroo sighed deeply. “This is what you decided to wake me up for?” He groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead.

“Please? I’d owe you one! And you’re awake already.”

“You owe me a lot more than just one, kitten,” he warned. “What on Earth are you craving right now?”

“I really want dark chocolate covered blueberries and a salmon onigiri. Oh! And maybe some meat buns.” An exclamation. “Maybe peaches too!” 

He blinked. “What?”

She let out a loud whine. “Kuroo! Don’t judge me! It’s what the baby wants, okay?”

“I’m not judging that’s just..super particular. Alright fine, I’ll pick it up and head over.”

“You’re literally the best! Love you~!” And with that, she hung up. The rush of blood filled his ears as those words echoed in his ears. He pinched his nose, breathing deeply. Glancing down at his phone, he looked at the time. 2:26 A.M. She really had such inconvenient timing. At this rate, he wasn’t going to get sleep until at least 4 A.M. His eyes glided down, looking at his lock-screen. A smile tugged at his lips at the familiar face. It was a photo of (Name) laughing, her navy peacoat draped over her shoulders and the collar of her dress pulled up. Kuroo had taken the photo when they went on their fancy dinner over a month ago.  

He sighed, wiping his face with a hand as he got up. The sooner he left, the sooner he’d be back in bed. With one last grumble, he slid into a pair of sweats and an old volleyball hoodie as he made his way out of his apartment.

****

“The doctor did tell you last week that your cravings were going to get worse,” Kuroo teased as she opened the door for him. He’d visited four different convenience stores to find everything on her list. She ignored him, snatching the plastic bag out of his hands. (Name) waddled over to her sofa, plopping down as she rummaged through the bag. She pulled out the meat bun and onigiri, holding one in each hand as she took savage bites out of them.

“Oh my god, this is incredible,” she moaned, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. 

“Oh yes, please do that again, I just love hearing that,” Kuroo teased.

“Shut up rooster-head.” (Name) swallowed, pulling out the peach drink he got her. “Aw, Kuroo! You got me my favorite, you’re literally the best.” He shrugged, taking a seat beside her. He reached for the bag, only to have his hand smacked away. “No! Mine.”

“I literally brought it for you!” He argued. “Let me get my food, woman.” She pouted, before pushing the bag towards him. He laughed at the familiar sight.

It was post-practice during their third-year. Kuroo and Kenma were joining (Name) at her house for their weekly movie night. “Ooh, can we stop by the convenience store?”

“Didn’t you just eat?” Kuroo teased. She had eaten her second bento while they were taking a break during practice.

“So? If you guys are coming over to watch movies, we should have snacks!” She argued, stopping directly in front of the store. “Do you guys want anything?”

“I’m okay.” Kenma replied, barely glancing up. Kenma sat down on the bench as he continued playing on his DS.

“Suit yourself!” She grinned. “How about you, Kuroo?”

“I’ll go pick for myself, thank you.” They walked inside. “Knowing you, you’d pick something weird for me.” 

“Hey, don’t you trust me?”

“No.” 

She giggled, tapping his nose before skipping away. “You should! I practically raised you, y’know?”

“And why do you think that?”

“Well, I did save your ass in English,” she teased, squatting down to survey the snacks at the bottom row. 

“Yeah well, you needed help in science. It cancels there.” 

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “You know you love me. And with love, comes trust!” 

His heart skipped a beat. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear.” She rolled her eyes at his term of endearment. Kuroo picked up a bag of chips, choosing some more snacks as they made their way down the aisle. “What’s on the agenda for movies?”

(Name) hummed, paying for her snacks as they made their way outside. “Depends! I’m open for whatever.” She tugged Kenma off the bench before skipping off in front of them. Kuroo and Kenma stood beside one another as they trailed behind. Kuroo’s soft smile was not missed by the younger boy as he observed the female, (h/c) hair blowing back as she skipped. She hummed a tune from (favorite song) as she unlocked the door, dropping the snacks onto the table as she gestured to the couch. “Make yourselves comfortable!”

“Don’t we always?” Kenma muttered, sliding onto the reclining seat as (Name) bustled around to clean up the couch a bit. Kuroo plopped down onto the couch, kicking his legs up onto the table. She smacked his legs to make them fall off, ignoring his cry of indignation. 

“I’ll be right back!” She ran upstairs towards her room. 

“When are you going to tell her?”

Kuroo jumped, looking at his male best friend. “Tell her what?”

“That you have a thing for her.”

Kuroo’s cheeks flushed red. “No I don’t!”

“Sure. You totally weren’t watching her with a dopey smile either.” Kenma rolled his eyes, aggressively using combo moves in order to defeat the boss. “You’ve been in love with her for years now, we all know.”

Kuroo blanched. “Does she?”

“Nah, she’s just as dumb as you are when it comes down to it.” 

“Why the hell am I coming down to Kenma saying that I’m dumb?” (Name) pouted, blankets bundled in her arms as she appeared at the doorway. Kuroo jumped, his blood freezing and heart clenching. “Not that I’m saying Kuroo isn’t, but I definitely am not!” 

“Yes you are.” 

Kuroo let out a high-pitched laugh, earning an odd look from (Name). Kenma just shook his head in distaste. “Is that all you heard?”

“Rude, Kenma! And yes, rooster-head, that’s all I heard.” She plopped down on the couch, spreading the blanket over their laps. Kuroo let out a sigh of relief as (Name) turned to Kenma, raising her brow. “So, pudding-pop, why am I dumb?”

“You’re just always dumb.” She leaned over to playfully shove him, causing Kenma to mess up. “(Name)!” He swore, glaring at the girl. Kuroo leaned down for the snack bag, only to have his hand smacked away by (Name). He glared at her as she rummaged through the bag, pulling out her own snacks before she handed him the bag.

“That’s your own fault, pudding-pop.” She laughed, before she leaned back against Kuroo. The captain’s heart lurched as he looked down. Her head was practically resting on his chest, her warmth seeping through his clothes to his heart. If loving someone felt like this, then he definitely didn’t mind.  

She glanced at the clock, finishing the last of the snacks and throwing the trash into the bag. “There’s no reason for you to go home; I’d feel terrible if you drove home this late.” She bit her lip. “Why don’t you sleep in my bed tonight?” Kuroo looked at her, his eyebrows raised. When they were in middle-school, it wasn’t uncommon for them to share a bed. But once they had gotten to high-school, they were forced out of the habit— mainly due to rising hormones and fear of what others would think of them.

“Are you sure?” He hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Just get in there, you big dummy.” She rolled her eyes, making her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She paused, standing in the doorway. Her eyes sparkled slightly as she looked at him. “Thanks for coming, Kuroo. I appreciate it.” She mumbled. 

Kuroo grinned, “I’m just glad to be of service.” He stood up, brushing his pants as he slipped into her bedroom. Hazel eyes surveyed the room, it wasn’t that different from before. Her desk was neat and organized, there were medicinal posters up on her walls, and there were soft golden fairy-lights dangling along the side of the wall. He undressed, leaving him in his boxers as he slipped under the covers. The mattress was so soft, he’d have to ask her where she got it. The sound of running water turned off, and the clicks of light-switches caught his attention. He glanced at the glowing red numbers on her desk. It was already 4:40 A.M. Thank god it was the weekend tomorrow. The door opened, and she entered. 

“Ugh, I forgot how big you are,” she grimaced, crossing her arms as she looked at him. “Budge up, will ya?” She was dressed in an oversized t-shirt, black panties peeking out from under them. 

“And you’re hardly wearing clothes,” he taunted before scooting over.

“Oi, my house, my rules. If you’re gonna be weird about it, you’re more than welcome to sleep on the sofa.” He simply tsk’d in response, lifting the blanket up so that she could slide in beside him. “You say I’m hardly wearing anything, Kuroo you’re not even wearing a shirt!” She whined, her hand brushing against his chest. 

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he teased, blowing air onto her face. 

“Don’t be such a prick.” 

“Goodnight princess.” 

A hum in response as her breathing got heavier. “G’night, Tetsu.” His heart stuttered.

****

(Name) groaned as the light filtered into the room, falling onto her face. She felt so warm and comfortable. Her attention was drawn to a weight on her waist. (E/c) eyes blinked at the chest that it was pressed against. Pulling back slightly, she looked up to see Kuroo’s sleeping face, a pillow pressed against his head. She stifled a giggle, taking in how relaxed the male looked. A sudden urge hit her. Oh shit, gotta pee, her eyes widened. Wiggling out of his arms carefully, she waddled to the bathroom. She might be pregnant, but the gods help her because she absolutely refused to have any sort of accident. 

 As she returned to her room, she couldn’t help but lean against the bed-frame as she looked down at his peaceful face. 

“Kuroo, I don’t understand this,” she whined, burying her face in her palms. They’d been studying for hours now. 

“What don’t you understand?” 

“I keep getting the wrong answers.” With one hand, she shoved the book towards him, plopping her head onto the desk. “Can I just drop out of school and become a stripper?” 

“No,” a bemused smile crossed his face, “it’s your last year. This is literally just high-school chemistry, that I’m helping you with. There will be no stripping here!” 

She grunted into her arms. “You’re right, I doubt anyone would wanna see that anyways.” 

Kuroo shifted uncomfortably. “That’s not true.” 

(Name) lifted her face, freezing. He was so close. All she’d need to do is lean forward just a little bit. “Are you saying you would?” She breathed. 

“Maybe.” He licked his lips, eyes wide. “Or maybe not. Maybe I just don’t want my best friend putting herself out like that.” Hazel eyes darted down to her lips. She could practically feel his lips against hers. 

They sprung apart as the door suddenly crashed open, revealing Lev. “Senpai, I need help studying!” 

“You gotta be quiet when you’re studying, you dumbass,” Kuroo retorted, cheeks slightly red. “Otherwise you bother everyone like you always do.”

“Don’t be mean to the baby tree,” (Name) scolded, her cheeks also glowing. 

“Why are your faces red?” Lev cocked his head.

“It’s just hot in here,” (Name) stammered, sitting up straighter. “How can I help you study, Lev?” Lev plopped into the chair beside her, pushing his books towards her as he explained his issues. In the corner of her eyes, she surveyed Kuroo. Did they really almost kiss?    

She shook her head, making her way back to her kitchen. She couldn’t be catching feelings now. Not for her best friend while she’s pregnant with her boyfriend’s— ex-boyfriend’s?— baby. She didn’t even want to think about how they were also best friends with one another. Silently, she wondered if these were feelings that she’d always secretly suppressed. It’s not like she’d never had a crush on Kuroo before. She’d had one when they were still in middle school, and she’d always assumed those were just one of those things that happened. With a more aggressive shake of her head, (Name) stepped into the kitchen, taking things out to make pancakes. As she hummed a familiar tune, cracking eggs into a bowl, she jumped. Warm arms snaked around her waist, a chest meeting her back.  

“Well aren’t you cuddly this morning?” She chuckled, patting one of his arms affectionately. Kuroo just tightened his grip, burying his face into her shoulder. His breath warmed the back of her neck. 

“Sleepy,” he muttered. “I blame you.”

(Name)’s giggle filled the kitchen, sounding like a windchime swaying in the breeze. “You didn’t have to help.” He awkwardly shrugged, tightening his grip as he rubbed his face into her shoulder, dangerously close to her neck. Goose-bumps raced along her skin. She leaned back in his caress, closing her eyes. The warmth of his body swept through her. “Hey, Kuroo?” He hummed in response. “Do you wanna move in?”

“Huh?” He rubbed his face into her shoulder, hiding his burning cheeks. Hoping that she couldn’t feel it. “Move in?” 

“Yeah.” She hesitated. “I mean, you’re always over. And I feel bad calling you to come over late at night.” She took a deep breath. “It’s also kinda lonely, y’know? Like it’s basically just me here by myself after living here with Kou for so long.” 

“That’s the last of the boxes, babe!” 

“Finally!” Bokuto collapsed onto the couch, letting out a massive sigh. “That took so long.”

“That’s what happens when you move somewhere,” she giggled, perching herself beside him. (Name) looked affectionately around the house. After an entire day of moving things in, they’d unpacked (most) of their boxes. It was the end of their first year of college, and they’d decide to move off-campus into their own house for some privacy for the upcoming school-year. Excitement pulsed through her. She and Bokuto had just celebrated their first anniversary after years of friendship, and things had never been easier. Of course, the couple had their issues. Bokuto had issues balancing his school-work with club volleyball, and she’d been so overwhelmed with her classes and internship that it was difficult for them to find time together. But, it was all worth it in the end. Now, she’d fall asleep and wake up beside the love of her life every day. “Kou, what do you want for dinner?”

“I’m too lazy to eat,” Bokuto groaned, draping an arm over his eyes. She patted his arm.

“Too lazy to eat? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that,” (Name) teased, elbowing him slightly. “Ah well, if you’re too lazy, maybe I’ll go get dinner all by myself. Alone. In our new neighborhood.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. 

She made a move to stand, only for arms to snake around her and throw her into the couch. (Name) giggled loudly, blinking up into golden pools as Bokuto hovered over her. He peppered kisses all around her face. “Let’s order in, and just spend our first night in our new home together, okay?” He murmured, brushing her hair away from her face as he drew her into a soft kiss. “Besides, I want to spend time with the love of my life in the place where we’ll raise our kids.” She gaped, tears welling up. His eyes were shut as he nudged her nose with his. 

“Kids?”

He flushed, pulling back. “Well yeah, I wanna have kids with you.” He pulled her hand up to his lips, kissing the promise ring that sat there. “I promised you forever, didn’t I?” Arms wrapped around his neck, dragging him down to her as she slotted her lips against his.

“God I love you,” she whispered in between kisses. 

“Y’know, this is a perfect time to break in that new bed,” he grinned.

“Kou!” She squealed, smacking his chest. Her eyelashes fluttered as she stared at him. Her heart had never felt so warm. 

“Are you sure?” Kuroo pulled back, turning her so that she was facing him. “I don’t want to intrude.” 

She nodded. “Yeah. If anything, we can put a bed in the nursery for now and you can stay there so you have your own space.” (Name) offered him a small smile. “Is that okay?”  

“Well, if you insist,” Kuroo teased, tapping her nose. He grew serious. “I’d do anything for you, (Nickname).” 

She wrapped her arms around him. “You’re the best, Kuroo.”

Fun facts

💟 Kuroo sleeps with D.N.D. on except for notifications from Kenma and (Name).

💟 (Name) typically craves onigiri and meat buns. Other things she craves are her usual study-hangout-movie night snacks. 

💟 (Name) and Kenma both have a bad habit of staying up late. They usually call each other when they want company, but only Kuroo would actually get up and go visit one of them so late, so they’ll call him if they need something.

💟 Both Bokuto and Kuroo disagree about who introduced (Name) to her favourite peach drink. It was actually neither of them. Kenma introduced it to her during one of their movie nights. 

💟 Kenma had known that Kuroo was pining for (Name) for years. He was tired of hearing/seeing it and warned him that someone else would ask her out if he didn’t get a move on. Kenma also almost confessed to (Name) on Kuroo’s behalf

💟 The last time Kuroo and (Name) shared a bed was their first semester of high-school. When she told one of her girlfriends, they shamed her for it so she stopped letting Kuroo sleepover. 

💟 At training camp their first year, Kuroo forgot to pack a sleep shirt and wandered around Shinzen after curfew. (Name) was also out to get a drink of water and shrieked when she saw Kuroo because she thought he was a ghost.

💟 When Lev told the team about what he stumbled upon, he got his butt kicked by Yaku for cock-blocking. Lev was the only one on the team who didn’t realise the tension between (Name) and Kuroo. 

💟 Bokuto randomly surprised (Name) with the keys to their new house after enlisting Akaashi’s help to plan and organise everything. 

AN: Officially switched my update day to Thursdays! Please feel free to pop into my inbox if you have any questions, comments, or concerns 💞 I love interacting with you all!

Taglist: @toaster-stick @thatartsybitch @brazil-hinata @sawamooora  @anejuuuuoy @abby-rutledge20 @babybluebisexual @badboysdoitbetter2 @liathachcapricious @cosmiclunas @wishingforanother@toobsessedsstuff  @setterfish @yeehawslap @shadowkunoichi @haikyuusimp91  @firebonbon @mentalydisturbed@samkysnks @dolan-mendes​  @loudpoetry23

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Please message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💞

[soulmate-game]

Awesome, cool (on RE: Marivel). Caaaan we get... uh, Soulmate Game version of marvel/ml crossover? Marinette x Peter? Or just Marinette meeting Peter via Dr. Strange in your Lady Strange AU (post-endgame maybe??). Take your pick (or do both?) and thank you if you do write them!!

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Yes.

This is a crossover between my Lady Strange AU and my Soulmate-Game AU, but since this is a different pairing it receives a different bond. I hope you like it!

—*—*—*—*—*

“I think somebody drew on me in my sleep,” was the first thing he told his Aunt and Uncle, who just blinked at him for a long moment with their toothbrushes half in their mouths. Peter was supposed to be getting ready for school in his own room, but instead, well.

His guardians’ eyes landed on the two childish, but extremely clean doodles on the top of Peter’s shoulders. They were ladybugs, one in red ink and the other blue. Only the outline was colored at all.

The little boy was tearing up.

“I don’t know how they e-ended up here. Why would s-somebody draw on me? It’s mean. Is this the boogeyman? Does…”

He was interrupted by May and Ben’s laughter, shrinking into himself as the adults tried to get ahold of themselves. Ben was the first to sober up, sinking to his knees and carefully laying a gentle hand on Peter’s naked arm, making sure not to come close to the new mark on his shoulder. The poor boy had stopped putting on a shirt altogether in favor of worrying over the doodles.

“No, no,” Ben soothed, running his other hand through Peter’s cinnamon hair. “No boogeyman. This is a good thing, Petey.”

He sniffled, looking up at his father figure warily, a hopeful spark in his eye. “It is?”

“Yeah. Do you remember what we told you about soul marks?” He asked his nephew, who was starting to calm down. The boy nodded, pushing his thick glasses back up his nose from where they had started to slip.

“Almost everyone has one,” he started to recite, furrowing his brows to try and remember what he had been told.

“And they can come in hundreds of different ways,” May filled in, kneeling beside her husband. “Some people have a picture or a name on them to represent their Destined. Some people are colorblind, or missing just one color until they meet their other half.”

“Some people can switch bodies or hear a song in their head that tells them how their soulmate is feeling,” Ben agreed. “There are tons of Bonds. Not everyone has a physical mark. But you,” he nodded to the ladybugs on his nephew’s shoulders. “You do.”

Peter started panicking again. “Oh no, I have two soulmates? What am I gonna do? What if they don’t like me, how can I love two people, I—“

“Relax, honey,” May rustled Peter’s hair with a soft smile. “I don’t think you have two, I think your mark is more complicated than that. Look, the ladybugs are exactly the same except for the color. The mark will probably do something exciting later, when you meet them.”

“Something exciting?” Peter parroted, making Ben chuckle.

“Yeah, but for now they are just cute pictures. Pictures which better be covered up by a shirt soon, or you’ll be late to school bud.”

“Ack!” He had forgotten he was still shirtless. “Sorry Uncle Ben!” Peter Benjamin Parker dashed back to his room as fast as his seven-year-old legs would carry him.

—*—*—*—*—*

Seven years later.

Marinette hummed, analyzing her reflection. Her halter top looked nice, a new design of hers. Tikki hovered near her, similarly happy with the clothing. And then the Kwami squeaked in dismay when her holder reached for foundation.

“Woah woah woah, what are you doing Marinette?!” The little god asked, tempted to take the makeup away. “The shirt makes your soul marks stand out so beautifully! I’m not a huge fan of spiders, but yours are so cute!”

The pigtailed girl blushed bright red, looking into the mirror to see both of the little doodles on her shoulders at the same time. They really were adorable, one cartoony spider on the top of each shoulder, one red and one blue. She didn’t wear the crop top to show them off though. She wore it because she needed to feel confident, and her usual blouses weren’t cutting it. She wanted to feel powerful, free, anything to escape the feeling of water droplets on her skin and the sight of people pinned by buildings, drowning. Blue skin, glassy eyes—

Marinette’s shook her head, taking a deep breath. The halter top she was wearing was a carefully, artistically dyed swirl of baby blue and baby pink. Strategic gathers in the cloth swirled the two colors around one another, bringing them to a small pinpoint of pale purple at the very point where the cloth had first been pinched and curled.

It was whimsical, it was childish and mature all at once. It was what Hope felt like to Marinette. The very thing she needed to try and heal from the whole Syren disaster a few weeks earlier.

“I like them too,” Marinette finally responded to her Kwami, running her fingers over the blue spider, the one on her right shoulder. It had completely vanished when she got home after the Syren attack, proving her father right from when he had told her all those years ago that her Bond was likely more than just a few doodles. “But only my parents know about them. I know the Miraculous suits are pretty much indestructible, but I don’t want to take any chances with this crazy world. If my shoulders ever get exposed while I’m Ladybug, I don’t want anyone to be able to connect that to Marinette,” she explained, slowly and regretfully spreading foundation over both marks and spritzing setting spray over it so that the makeup wouldn’t move anytime soon.

She knew why her blue spider had temporarily vanished. She had thought maybe she had just been imagining it before, when she would occasionally be in the middle of an anxiety attack and think that her blue spider was a little paler than usual. Or on the few occasions when she was going days without sleep, or overextending herself for her friends and her red spider would look a little dull.

She wondered what that meant for the person on the other end of their connection.

—*—*—*—*—*

And then she found out. She was fifteen, and it was about five in the morning. Marinette jolted out of bed, feeling a searing heat on her right shoulder. Throwing her shirt off, she saw it— her red spider was glowing. She felt herself trembling, but she didn’t know why. Tears were raining down her face, but she wasn’t sad. Her hands felt oddly wet and sticky, but they were completely clean.

The teenager shared a long, bewildered look with Tikki before carefully letting her fingers brush over the red spider. And she understood.

Anger. Guilt. He’s blaming himself. He’s dead. My fault. My fault. Blood. Is she feeling this? I’m making her feel this. Stupid. Worthless. Mistake. Mistake.

Marinette pried her hand away from the mark, gasping from the influx of emotions. She didn’t know details, probably to protect the identity of the person on the other end of the Bond, but she got the gist of it. The longer she had stayed on the connection, the more lucid thoughts she got straight from the boy himself. None of it had been promising.

She was able to surmise this; someone close to him died, or was dying. Her hands probably felt sticky because of the literal blood on his. Oh Kwami, he probably saw them die right in front of him. Probably held them.

And there was no Cure to reverse it for him.

But the most important part was that he was blaming himself for it, and Marinette couldn’t stand it. She ground her teeth, and touched the mark again with full intention of making sure he knew it wasn’t his fault. That he wasn’t worthless, and that she wasn’t mad at him for this.

But nothing happened. She tried touching the blue spider, but nothing happened. She tried meditating, hoping they had a mental connection—nothing. Absolutely. Nothing.

The heat was gone from her shoulder, the connection over.

Marinette raged at her inability to help a boy she never met.

—*—*—*—*—*

Four months later, she knew the situation was about to be reversed. She stared down at the old man in front of her, frail and weak but forcing himself to stand and hold the heavy box in the air in front of him. The weight made his twig-thin arms shake, and the pigtailed girl quickly snatched the item before it or the man holding it dropped.

“Master,” she whispered, her eyes frantically searching his. “Don’t. The magic, Tikki’s magic, can help. I’ve been practicing. Don’t—“

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of Sabine Cheng and biological daughter of Steven Strange,” the old man started, making Marinette snap her mouth shut with the force of his words. She didn’t know how he found out about her biological father, but didn’t bother asking. It wasn’t important, and he had too many possible ways of finding out through magic. No, his words right now were the only things she found worth focusing on in that moment. “I, Wang Fu, find myself too old to carry on my duties as Grand Guardian. But you are the best student I could have ever asked for. A True Ladybug with a soul of creation, a disciplined mind, and an open heart. I name you as my heir, and as the new Grand Guardian. Do you accept the transference of my title?”

Marinette didn’t want to. The wise eyes boring back into hers said that he knew, that he would understand if she refused. But Marinette also knew that refusing would not grant her the happy ending she wanted from this situation, only regret. His eyes said that he knew that, too.

“I accept,” she didn’t know how she was able to croak that out, but she managed somehow. “Wang Fu, I will gladly take on the title of Lady Strange, the new Grand Guardian. I vow to protect as you have protected, to guard the innocent and punish those who try to upset balance with the Miraculous. To keep the Universe as peaceful as possible with my power.”

“Then let my wisdom become yours,” Fu finished the sacred speech, closing his eyes as a bright green mist was born from his feet. It grew, sliding up his body until it exited his head in a giant luminous cloud like a swarm of fireflies on a misty night. Marinette refused to close her eyes, stubbornly keeping her gaze on Master Fu as the magical green fog covered her own body and sank into her skin. The knowledge of the Guardian’s language and traditions appeared in her mind, along with the rest of Fu’s wisdom and experience with the Miraculous.

“Young lady? Are you alright, you’re crying.”

Marinette took a deep breath, her eyes still locked onto the brown orbs that no longer recognized her. Slowly, she put the miracle box down on his bedside table.

“Yes, I’m fine. How do you feel?”

The old man wobbled, and the young girl had to catch him before he fell. “Let’s get you into bed,” she decided for him, getting a nod and a grateful smile in return. It was after he was in his bed and his eyes were starting to droop that he spoke again, this time in Mandarin.

Which Marinette now spoke, like a final gift from him to her.

“Are you my granddaughter?”

Marinette bit her lip, placing a gentle hand on Fu’s shoulder before responding in the same language;

“That’s right.”

She didn’t need a heart monitor to know when his pulse stopped. She could feel the magic of life drain from him, the Creation that made him who he was disappearing from his form. She dropped, her legs no longer able to support her weight, and sobbed into his comforter.

It happened then, she could feel a phantom hand on her right shoulder. Trying to provide comfort but not able to speak.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I want you here. But thank you. For everything. Thank you.

She didn’t know if she was trying to send those thoughts to Fu or to the boy trying to help her despite never having met her.

—*—*—*—*—*

This is part 1, because Tumblr doesn’t allow me to post the whole thing. Stupid word limits >:[ part 2 right here 

[preciseprose]

Kiki (2/2)

Prompt: Hanging Out (Companuary: February 2nd, 2021)

Fandom: The Owl House

Relationship: Belos and Kikimora (platonic)

Synopsis:  Kikimora talks about her life and Belos opens up slightly.

Author’s note: This is a continuation of the drabble I posted two days ago. It isn’t necessary to read that one first though.

- - -

“Where should I start?” Kikimora offered, accepting the glass of blood wine Belos had poured for her.

“Hmmm,” Belos hummed, drawing his fingertips into a bridge.  “Why not start from the beginning?”

They had moved to the back of the tent, which he had decorated with a pair of modest armchairs, a small coffee table, and a stone-lined pit.  A cold fire of red flame burned quietly within the confines of the pit.  The chairs fit Belos comfortably, but effectively dwarfed Kikimora.  He found the effect quite humorous.

“That’s quite vague, you know,” quipped Kikimora, before taking a sip from her glass.  “But I suppose I can start with my parents.”

Belos waited silently.

“I grew up in Aster’s Copse, the village you found me in when you first started your campaign.”

“Yes, I am familiar with it.”

“My parents ran a general store there.  It was nothing exceptional, but it provided us with greater means than most.  My father was a smart man but had little ambition.  He wasn’t a particularly warm parent, but he cared about me.  Sent me letters when I was away at school.”

She drew her hands up to clarify.  “My parents weren’t blessed with magic so they couldn’t communicate without the post.  Apparently, my gift came from my mother’s grandmother.  The village elders said she was quite the hellion.”

“A wild witch?”

She nodded, then took another sip.  “Oh yes, wild at heart from what I heard.  I never met her through, so I can’t be certain.”

“Curious.  Was she also the origin of your musical talent?”  Belos asked.  On the field, he had seen Kikimora employ a lyre as the focus for her spells.

Kikimora’s ears perked up at the question.  “My musical talent?”  She laughed.  “I wouldn’t consider myself particularly talented.  I’m competent at best.  Now my mother,” she conjured in the air before him an image of a demon similar looking to her but older, with slightly darker skin and aquamarine ‘hair’.  “She was talented.”

Belos examined the image more closely.  The woman was playing a lyre and appeared to be in the middle of some rousing number in a run-down bar.

“She was a minstrel before she married my father,” Kikimora explained.

“And after?”

“A devoted wife.  Then a devoted mother.”  She sighed into her glass, dismissing the image with a swirl of her finger.  “She’s the one that taught me to play.”

Kikimora opened the palm of her left hand.  A nine-stringed lyre materialized in her hand in a flash of red light.  She held it up for him to see.

Belos wordlessly conjured two light orbs to better examine the instrument.  She had carved the soundbox from a solid block of dark redwood and joined it seamlessly with arms built from olive wood.  The left arm was unique.  A winding trench had been cut into the arm within which lay a fanged, redwood serpent.  Its head, which spiraled off the cross bar, glistened in the light.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, my liege.  I carved it after my mother died, to help me remember her.”  She pulled the instrument back towards herself, examined it, then dismissed it with a swirl of her right hand.

Belos dismissed the orbs above, then brought his hands to his stomach.  

“I envy you,” he said after some time.  “I have little artistic talent.”

“Can you sing?”

He half-laughed.  “Like a tortured animal.”

“That’s a shame, sire.”  She responded, chucking to herself.  “I used to play in a band.  We could have performed duets.”

“You’re joking,” he said in disbelief.  He tried to imagine her in the same scene she had shown of her mother.  It looked off somehow.

“I am not.  We were quite popular too.”  She paused suddenly, then glared skeptically at him with her eye.  “You didn’t think I was a boring recluse before I agreed to travel with you, did you sire?”  She took another drink without breaking eye contact.

“No, that’s not it,” he said, waving is left hand in a circle.  “I just thought…  You project a certain image, you know.  I thought you may have stuck to hymnals.”

“Oh!”  She laughed, almost spilling her wine.  “Yes, yes, I know plenty of those from my time at St. Epiderm.  But they are dreadfully boring to play.”

“St. Epiderm,” he said, pondering.  “Isn’t that a school in Bonesborough?  Did you attend there?”

“Yes, it is my alma mater,” she declared proudly.  “I graduated as top student.”

“But how did you manage to attend?  You said that you grew up in Aster’s Copse.  That’s a week’s travel from Bonesborough by foot.”

“Well, I didn’t walk, my lord.  Not with these stubby things.”  She gestured to her legs.  “I was flown there, by my first teacher.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms loosely.  “Another demon?”

“No, a witchling actually.  Our town’s local representative for the Bard coven.  Mr. Crowley.”  She looked away from him and into the fire.  “He was a kind man, nothing like the current coven establishment, my lord.”

She took another drink, leaving little in the glass.  “If it wasn’t for him, I would have rotted away in that town.  It was a sad day when he passed.”

Belos let a moment pass, then replied.  “What did he teach you?”

“Oh, small things at first.  What every fledgling is taught.  The five basic spells, spell circle theory, runes, basic potions.”  Her expression sharpened.  “Then he taught me the basics of elocution, the weaving of magic and words to persuade and influence.  That’s what set me free.  My final test as his apprentice was to use magic to convince my father to let me take the entry exam for St. Epiderm.”

“Obviously, you succeeded.”

Kikimora finished her glass and set it on the table.  “Yes.  I did.”

Belos snapped his fingers.  The glass disappeared.

“Did that test not cross a line for you?”  He asked.

“At the time, yes.  I think it did.”

“But in hindsight?”

She grinned.  “In hindsight?  I think was good for me, my lord.”

“Is that so,” replied Belos, interested to hear her explanation.

She turned to face him, pressing her talons together.  “It hardened me a little.”  She tilted her talons forward.  “Forced me to think about how magic could be used for my own personal gain, rather than the benefit of others.”

“You weren’t raised with that mentality?  That your skills should be used to further yourself before others?”

She shook her head.  “No, I wasn’t, my lord.  I was raised to be kind, and considerate.  Maybe docile is the right word.  Like a little doll.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Utterly so,” she agreed, settling back into her chair.  “Regardless, I can’t help but feel some guilt about abandoning my mother.”

“Why do you say that you abandoned her?”

She smiled dimly.  “I think it really hurt her that I left.  And that she was probably lonely without me, alone with my father.”  As she spoke, her eye drifted to the fire.

“And because I left, I didn’t get the chance to get to know her as an adult.  She caught the bone flu during that outbreak eight years ago and passed within the week.  By the time I could return home, she was almost gone.”

A silence emerged.  He didn’t turn to face her.  Instead, he looked into the fire and thought of his own mother.

“Kiki.”  He said, after a long moment of consideration.

“Yes, sire?”

“My own mother.  She, …died under similar circumstances.”  

He saw her turn to face him out of the corner of his vision.

“She was killed suddenly, while I was away.  And I didn’t know until I arrived back home months later.  She was already buried by then.”

She moved to speak but he held up his left hand to stop her.

“She, like your mother, didn’t want me to leave either.  But I did because I had to.”

He leaned forward in his chair and continued.  “I have no basis for this belief beyond the fact that I was a decent son, but I believe she understood why I had to leave.  And that she didn’t hold it against me.”

“I see,” Kikimora stated, drawing her hands into a ball.  “Thank you, my lord.”

He remained silent, having turned back to the fire.  A few minutes passed.

“It’s getting late, my lord,” she said, pushing herself out of her seat.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he said, moving to stand.

She walked over to entrance of the tent, then looked back.

“Thank you for the conversation, my lord.”

He smiled beneath his mask.  “Goodnight, Kiki.”

“Goodnight, my lord.”

[booklover41802]

Could you do a Jurdan fanfic where they reunite post During Jude’s banishment but pre-queen of nothing but Jude is on a date, or Cardan thinks some guy is courting Jude and he jealously glamours the guy to leave her alone. And it leads to angst?

Of course, lovely! Thank you for the request! It turned out a bit longer than I had anticipated, and I tweaked it a bit, but I’m happy with the result. I hope you enjoy it, as much as I loved writing it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jude Durate, High Queen of Elfhame, Wife to Cardan Greenbriar, was on her seventh date with a human boy. The boy was sweet, the complete opposite of the folk in Faerie. The kind of boy you fell for slowly over time until you looked at him one day and realized that you were wholly and utterly in love with him. 

Jude was terrified of him. Vivi had set them up, wanting Jude to heal from the scars of Faerie, and during the month and a half she’d been in the mortal lands, she learned what people meant when they said your heart could be divided in two. Though she loved Cardan, he seemed like a dream, like she could never truly have him. Lucas was more real, more than a daydream. 

Attempting to be discreet, Jude slanted her eyes to study the boy walking next to her, chattering on about mundane things. He was averagely tall with sandy blonde hair and striking emerald eyes. He looked nothing like Cardan. In her eyes, that was all that mattered. He was a distraction, a bit of fun during her banishment. After all, her delightful husband was surely doing the same.

They were walking along the pier near a beach Jude had discovered during the month away from Faerie. It was a quiet spot, away from the worrying gaze of Vivi. The boy, Lucas, suddenly smiled at her shyly, a flush reddening his cheeks to a brilliant flame. “Would it be okay if I held your hand?”

Jude’s heart hammered in her chest, wondering what she was getting herself into. If she said no, his disappointment would simmer awkwardly between them. If she said yes… would it be a betrayal to her vows? She swallowed the phlegm in her throat, trying to shove away all thoughts of what this small gesture meant. Without giving herself a moment to second guess what she was doing, Jude forced her lips to upturn at the corners, as though she was pleased he asked. “I would like nothing more.” She stretched out her hand and laced his fingers with hers, secretly enjoying the feel of his smooth palm against her calloused one. Lucas’s eyes widened imperceptibly at her move. 

Wonderment filling his gaze, Lucas studied her scarred palm. “Where did you get this scar from?” He traced the scar she had received when she pledged her loyalty to Dain with reverence.

What was she to tell him? She couldn’t very well say that she had cut open her own palm in order to gain the protection of the Prince of Elfhame. He would think her mad, and then who knows what would happen to her. She would have to lie, as she did about most things. Her mortal ability to skirt around the truth came in handy once more. “Childhood accident. You know how kids are. Magnets for disaster!”

Lucas chuckled, the fading light of the sun hitting the golden flecks of his eyes as he turned his head towards her. “I know exactly what you mean!” His fingers danced over her scar lightly, lovingly while his other hand traced circles in the sand. “When I was six years old, and learning how to ride a bike, I lost control and crashed right into a big old maple tree! Cut open my arm horribly. My grandma almost had a heart attack with the amount of blood that was on me.” When he mentioned his grandma, his face took on a softened look, his full lips fondly turning up as he reminisced on the past. 

“Both of us are covered in scars, as the two accident prone children we were.” She was deflecting, she knew, from the truth. But it was the only way to keep him safe from her past. 

From the corner of her eye, Jude saw a Golden Retriever huddled up against a building, with the faint shimmer of wings hovering in her peripheral vision. Jude’s pace slowed down as the pixie tormenting the dog smirked at her, taunting her. Even now, far away from Court, her past continued to haunt her, reminding her how she did not fit into the mortal world. She would never be safe here.

Lucas, oblivious to the pixie and her racing thoughts, pointed out a landmark on the far side of the coast. “That lighthouse over there is where I lost my first tooth. I was so excited by the ships, I wiggled my loose tooth a little too hard. Blood gushed all over me, staining my favorite shirt. My parents fussed over me for days. I even had the tooth fairy visit me for the first time. Found a whole dollar underneath my pillow the next morning.”

The tooth fairy. Such a human tradition. Jude had never experienced it, as her parents had been murdered before her teeth fell out. 

A few people moved around the two of them on the sidewalk, not wanting to interfere with the moment they were having. Jude, not aware they would be seen by anybody, blushed fiercely. She looked away from the fond looks people threw her way, and pulled Lucas to a stop. She dragged him over to the sand, far away from the pixie, and made to sit down. Mercifully, he didn’t question it. “What are your parents like?” She asked, trying, and failing, to calm her nerves.

 “They were wonderful people from what I can remember. Every Saturday night they took me to the lighthouse to look at the ships docking in the harbor. My father worked there, and rarely left his post. The sea called to him, as it does to me.” Ships now were now pulling in, guided by the beam of light pouring out from the top of the lighthouse. Lucas watched the boats, a fascinated look taking over his features.

As the sun set over the horizon, glowing softly with pinks, purples, and oranges, gulls crying out in the distance, waves crashing against the beach, Jude felt a sense of peace settle over her, despite the pixie. With Lucas it was easy to feel safe, to let her mind drift away. In another life, she pictured herself with him. Forcing the words out around the memories of Cardan, she softly asked, “Have your parents died?”

With a rueful smile, Lucas looked up at the sky watching the seagulls circle overhead, his eyes far away. “Yeah. They died in a fire when I was eight. My grandparents raised me after that. It was hard to accept that they were gone for a while. I couldn’t even go to the lighthouse without thinking of them, of having the memories crash over me like the waves against the shore.” He was becoming detached, distant.

Jude did something she never expected herself to do. Gently, she took his hand out of hers, pulling his face towards her, so that they were eye to eye. “My parents died when I was seven. I guess we’re both orphans. I was raised by an… uncle after that with my two sisters. You’re not alone. Orphans always find each other, searching for a home in one another, hoping they will finally belong somewhere.”

The sea rocked against the sand, splashing the two of them with little droplets. Neither noticed, too lost in the depthless ache they felt deep in their chests. 

Reaching out a shaky hand, Lucas brushed away a stray strand of hair that was stuck against her cheek. “I think I’ve found my home.”

Knowing she was already damned, Jude leaned forward and drew Lucas into her arms, resting her chin on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. He smelled of cedar, the sea, with faint undercurrents of spices. She shut her eyes, relishing the feel of safety in his arms.

His breath tickled her ear as he moved towards her. “What was your childhood like? You never talk about it.” Immediately she stiffened, memories flashing by of a gentry member biting off the tip of her ring finger, another yanking her out from under a table at a revel and being tormented and glamoured, wearing rowan berries everywhere to avoid her mortality betraying her.

A childhood that was no childhood at all. 

“It was a childhood like no other,” she choked out. 

He pulled back, grasping her forearms and looking into her eyes, brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry if I hit a sore subject, I only wish to know you more.”

Before she could answer she was hit with the scent of roses, citrus and the overwhelming smell of wine. There was only one being with that aroma that she knew. Cardan.

Sure enough, there he glided behind her on the sand, his black eyes boring into her, burning her like a brand. His tail peeked out from his trousers, gently swaying in the wind. A cruel grin bedecked his face, as he narrowed in on the boy who held her in his arms. 

“Jude?” Lucas asked, drawing her gaze away from her husband. Gods. Her husband. The King of Elfhame was here. In the mortal lands. And here she was, on a date.

“Sorry, I-I think I’m getting tired.” Behind Lucas’s back, Cardan snickered.

Lucas nodded, eyes roving over her too bright eyes, the fake smile adorning her lips. “Before we turn in, I have something for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes. Just a moment.” Reaching in the back pocket of his pants, Lucas drew out a necklace with a sterling silver ring hung on the chain. The ring twisted around a small pearl, edged with small gems placed around the base. The ring was simple, beautiful. Perfect. 

She was speechless. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” But just as she said it, the raven haired boy from her past crept into her vision, patiently waiting for her to go over to him. Lucas didn’t notice, too lost in Jude to see anything beyond. 

Lucas gently swung the necklace around Jude’s throat, carefully securing the latch. He lifted up the hair that was trapped by the chain. Jude smiled softly at the gift, and at the boy who had given it to her without a second thought, attempting to block out Cardan so she could remember this moment without the stain of Faerie. “I found the pearl when I was out at sea a few weeks ago, and I thought of you. I made it myself last night. It’s a promise necklace, since I didn’t know what size ring you wore. A promise that, one day, we’ll be married.”

Jude’s smile slipped off her face. “Marriage?” Unbeknownst to him, she was already married to another, her heart belonged to another. In another life, perhaps, this could have worked, but things being the way they were, it wouldn’t last. She had duties and promises to fulfill.

Behind them, Cardan had gone stone-still, his tail twitching back and forth. A strange light filled his eyes, the golden ring around his pupil disappearing, his mouth set in a hard line. It was an odd sight to see. Cardan standing on the sand on a mortal beach with his extravagant clothing studded with gems and jewels, his crown perched haphazardly on his head. Of course he brought his crown, as though he was reminding Jude of who he was. If any mortals noticed him, they didn’t let on. He must have been glamoured, for everyone casually flowed around him as though he wasn’t even there.

Lucas twisted around to see why Jude kept looking over his shoulder, and found nothing, for he couldn’t see the ghost from her past. “What do you keep looking at? Have I moved too fast?” He turned to look at her once more, a heartbreaking expression on his face. The confusion hurt Jude as she could never tell him the truth. Never let him know who she really was, and where she had come from.

“Just-Just a dog. I like dogs, that’s all.”

Carefully Lucas reached for her forearms and pulled her towards him until they were mere feet apart. Cardan moved closer.

“Jude. I’m sorry if I’ve startled you with my declarations. It’s just that I know you’re what I want. I know I’ve only known you for a little over a month, but with each passing day I fall in love with you a little bit more. Your wit, your intellect, your dimples, that look you get when you think no one is looking, when you look happy and relaxed, your guard let down. I love you, Jude. If you don’t feel as strongly as me, I understand, I do. I’m prepared to wait a thousand years.” He nestled his face into her neck, his sandy hair tickling her skin.

Unconsciously she began to run her fingers through his soft hair, wondering if he could feel her racing heart. “Lucas-” She started, about to break his heart, to let him down easy, but suddenly, he jerked under her touch, as if he were a puppet and a puppet master had pulled his strings.

He pulled back as if in a trance, his limbs rigid, rose to his full height and began to walk away. Jude scrambled to her feet and attempted to pull him around. Oblivious to her, he kept marching forwards towards Cardan, never looking back. She hurried in front of him, to see his face. A glazed look had overtaken his features, a blissful expression on his peaceful face. “Lucas?”

There was no answer, no matter how hard she willed him to stop, no matter how many times she shouted his name, there was nothing. No sign of the boy who had given her his heart. So, defeated, she stopped trying to get him to halt and followed him towards the boy who had shattered her life.

Cardan was smirking at her, his hands placed casually in his pockets. “Hello, my darling Jude. How are the mortal lands treating you?” He purred, as soon as Jude was within range. He held out his arms to her, wanting to draw her into a hug, but she crossed her arms, unwilling to give him what he desired.

When she saw Cardan again, she thought she’d be overjoyed, to leap at the chance to go back. But she was angry. So unbelievably angry she wanted to hurt him as he had hurt her. “After banishing me and betraying my trust, you ask how I am? You show up, unannounced, mind you, and expect me to embrace you with open arms? No. I shall not. And you glamoured my date.” Jude frowned, her lips curling downwards, looking at Lucas’s dazed expression next to the King of Elfhame.

He dropped his arms, a wounded expression on his face. “I come in peace, to offer you a chance to return. I thought after all my letters, you would understand my regret and how much I wish to see you home.”

Letters? There had been nothing but silence. “Is this another one of your tricks? To get to me to sympathize with you? I never received anything. And Faerie is not my home. I am mortal, as I am so often reminded, and replaceable. I have no home, not anymore, not after you banished me. I cannot return.”

Again, the small smile danced across his lips, as if this were a game. “Have I finally outwitted you, Jude Durate, master of tricks and wit?”

“What are you talking about?” The way he looked at her sent shivers down her spine. She had forgotten how he made her feel. Every touch, every look was as though a fire was exploding in her heart. Passion and desire warred over her common sense until she had given in to the whims of her deepest wants. Look how that had turned out.

Love was a fickle thing. It made you lose all sense until you were a love-stricken fool, incapable of seeing the ugly truth, wanting to believe the best of your partner. Love had turned her into the Court Jester. Playing tricks for them all until she had lost her balance and everything came crashing down around her while everyone laughed. A cascade of disaster.

Cardan took a step closer until they were sharing breath, every feeling she had forced down deep rose up again at the close proximity they were in. Cautiously, as if he didn’t want to startle her, he gently ran a finger down his face. “You could have returned any time you wanted. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown, let her not step one foot in Faerie or forfeit her life. Are you not Faerie’s Queen? Are you not my wife?”

Jude felt the world closing in on her as she realized just what this meant. She could have pardoned herself. She was a fool, blinded by her wounded feelings. “Wife in name only. Who banishes their wife the day after they are married? You could have warned me, at least. Instead you let me go off into the mortal world, thinking I’d never see you again. I thought I knew better than to get involved with a Faerie, a King at that.” Now Cardan turned his attention to Lucas, still looking for all the world a love-sick puppy. “Is this mortal the better option?” Cardan’s lip curled. “A mortal who doesn’t even have decent fashion sense.” Cardan eyed Lucas’s clothes seriously, as if his very existence was an affront to everything Cardan stood for.

“Leave him alone. He didn’t do anything except get mixed up with the wrong person.”

Cardan roughly got hold of Lucas’s shirt and pulled him close in an intimate embrace. “Faerie leaves scars to everyone who passes through. You cannot pass through the fire unburned. So he shall suffer the consequences of trying to marry my wife.”

“Cardan what are you-” Faster than she could follow, faster than she knew he could move, he whipped out a knife from the folds of his tunic and slashed Lucas’s forearm, cutting through fabric - with her own blade for that matter. Lucas didn’t even flinch, the glamour erasing any emotion he felt.

Cardan released the boy, his chest heaving, blade dripping in blood, staining the golden flecks of sand a brilliant red.

She lunged forwards trying to sop up the blood with the edge of her dress that had begun to drip down through the torn folds of his shirt. The only thing she accomplished was soaking the blood into her clothes and skin. 

“Now the remnants of Faerie will forever be etched upon his skin. He’ll always possess the fear of the land and the retaliation he’ll receive if he decides to chase after you again.” He looked proud of himself, as though he did something worthy or noble. “Come back with me, Jude. Let us return, as King and Queen, as Husband and Wife.” 

How dare Cardan believe he had the right to mark a mortal like so, and expect her to be okay with it? Expect her to return to him with open arms. “I will only return with you if you promise to leave Lucas alone. No assassin’s sent after him, no poison in his cup. No harm ever to come to him.” Her heart bled for the boy who had done nothing wrong other than fall in love with the wrong person.

Cardan’s tail twitched back and forth as he contemplated her offer. “If that is what you wish, I shall grant it.” He waved his hand and Lucas lumbered away, arm still bleeding profusely.

They watched the boy stumble his way back to his home, listened to the shrieks that accompanied his arrival. Jude hated it. Hated that she was the reason for his pain. 

“You have me back, but I swear to you I will hate you until I die for what you have done. You will never have me as you once did. I’ll be your Wife and Queen in name only.”

“I brought your sword, Nightfell, back from Vivi.” He held out the gleaming blade, as some sort of peace offering. Blood still dripped from the metal. She took it, only because the sword gave her comfort.

“Thank you,” she replied curtly. “Take me back, Cardan.”

“If that is what you wish.”

Jude reached up and fingered the necklace that lay on her collarbone, comforted by the pearl that slid smoothly through her fingers. 

When they reached the bright green fields of Faerie, Jude was welcomed back with open arms. She smiled politely, accepted the congratulations, but felt an emptiness, as though she was missing a limb.

Faerie would never be her home again, nor would the Mortal Lands. She had been cursed to be a wanderer, never to have a place to feel safe. Once she had thought it was Cardan, but she was wrong. She was alone, just as she always was.

Cardan

As Cardan took hold of Jude’s arm to transport her back to Faerie, he wondered if he had done the right thing by glamouring her date and cutting him on the arm with Jude’s blade. He had thought she’d be proud of what he did, as she often resorted to more violent methods at Court. Perhaps he made an error, acted too rashly. Cardan did not know how he could make it up to her. 

Although he had achieved his goal of bringing Jude home, the cost had been too high. Whatever love had been between them, was now squandered into the dirt, crushed beneath his crown. If he had simply been Cardan, and not Cardan, High King of Elfhame, would she still hate him as fiercely as she did? Was it the crown that made him act so impulsively? Or was it because he couldn’t bear to see Jude with someone else?

The awful feeling of jealousy was like a cancer, infecting his mind until he knew nothing else. All he saw was a boy courting his love, his Jude, and he had never wanted to kill a mortal so much before. He once swore to himself he would never spill blood by his own hand, but for Jude, he would do anything.

Yet now, as they were back at Court, Cardan noticed the distance now on Jude’s face as Oriana welcomed Jude back. Noticed how she kept touching the necklace at her throat.

When Jude looked at him, it was with a cold emptiness, a reserved impasse. He loved her still, but it seemed as though they were enemies once again.

Jude Durate, his wife, his Queen, hated him. He did not know if they could come back from it.

Tags: @webcraft4eveh, @illyrian-bookworm, @highladyofstoriesandmusic

[secretlanguageicanspeak]

I HAVE A FOLKLORE THEORY

what if the actual fantasy element of folklore is specifically the events that occur in at the end of betty?? as in, james was with someone else that summer despite loving betty, but instead of going back to betty and showing up to her party, james chose the more mature option of not going back to betty because they both knew how it would end, they’ve seen this movie before... cardigan/betty/august are fictional because they exist in an imagined reality, different from the other songs on the album. 

disclaimer: (i believe james represents taylor and her role in this story, but it is up to speculation so i’ll just stick with speaking about james as the character in folklore,, james’s gender doesn’t really matter to me since it is a character, but i’ll use he/him pronouns for the sake of this post)

the 1 (betty’s pov):

“I guess you never know, never know”

...[what would have happened if you came back]

“And if you wanted me, you really should've showed”

see betty: “So I showed up at your party...” -- james didn’t end up showing, this did not happen

“And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow”

see cardigan: “You drew stars around my scars / But now I'm bleedin'” and “I knew you / Tried to change the ending / Peter losing Wendy” -- in the alternate reality, betty was the only one bleeding, so she grew because of it, and that’s why she is Wendy. james never bled, so james was Peter who never grew up. 

see peace: “Our coming-of-age has come and gone” -- this line suggests that they BOTH in fact grew up (OUR coming-of-age), so neither of them could be Peter. -- “Suddenly this summer, it's clear / I never had the courage of my convictions / As long as danger is near” -- the summer is the same season as the love triangle setting, another sign it’s the same people. these lines depict james essentially backing down from something he really wanted to do out of fear. this seems to be a reference the decision NOT to go to betty’s party last minute, even after planning for months. 

“And it's alright now”

this is simply acceptance of the situation, they have separated for good.

betty (lead up to the party):

...About why you switched your homeroom... Betty, one time I was riding on my skateboard...  You heard the rumors from Inez... The worst thing that I ever did / Was what I did to you 

pay attention here to the tense usage in verse 1 and the pre-chorus. clearly all the statements in these stanzas are in the past and happen during the summer james was with someone else or between then and now.

But if I just showed up at your party Would you have me? Would you want me? Would you tell me to go fuck myself Or lead me to the garden? In the garden, would you trust me If I told you it was just a summer thing? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything But I know I miss you

in looking at the lyrics of the chorus, it is clear here that we’re still in the ‘lead up’ phase. james is DAYDREAMING the possibilities of what could happen *IF* he just showed up at betty’s party. 

Betty, I know where it all went wrong Your favorite song was playing From the far side of the gym I was nowhere to be found I hate the crowds, you know that Plus, I saw you dance with him

in verse 2, james is recounting another event which he claims to have led to him doing “the worst thing that [james] ever did,” betraying betty. it is clearly serving as a background story that occurred a long time ago. the “dance” with “him” is very likely the same story as in the first lines of exile, “I can see you standing, honey / With his arms around your body”

I was walking home on broken cobblestones Just thinking of you when she pulled up like A figment of my worst intentions She said "James, get in, let's drive" Those days turned into nights Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you all summer long

the bridge is simply a continuation of the story begun in verse 2. james left the dance after seeing betty with “him.” on his way home, he runs into “her” who i’ll call august, and then their summer affair begins. again, this is long in the past now.

betty (verse 3): 

Betty, I'm here on your doorstep

this line appears to be referencing the same moment as this is me trying: “And maybe I don't quite know what to say / But I'm here in your doorway” however, in this is me trying, which is the main/real plot line, james just says, “I just wanted you to know that this is me trying.” with other clues from that song, this statement means james is trying his best to move on and mature in life, catch up with his classmates after the huge setback of losing betty.

i believe james is trying, although struggling, to accept the end of this relationship forever because of his actions. the line “I didn't know if you'd care if I came back / I have a lot of regrets about that” suggests the ‘regrets’ are because james chose to not come back because he assumed, possibly wrongfully, that she didn’t want him to. (i discuss the bridge of this is me trying after finishing verse 3 interpretation)

And I planned it out for weeks now But it's finally sinkin' in Betty, right now is the last time I can dream about what happens when You see my face again

these lines, in my opinion, best showcased the idea in peace’s first verse as discussed earlier: “Suddenly this summer, it's clear / I never had the courage of my convictions / As long as danger is near.” the fact this feeling of anticipation and nervousness ahead of the reunion with betty required an entire verse to communicate shows exactly how intense the feelings are. 

The feelings may be internal or external pressures (societal standards and injustices, being in the public eye, and more) which create anxiety in a person. in the rest of the first verse of peace, she reveals the danger is “just around the corner, darlin' / 'Cause it lives in me,” supporting the idea that these fears and anxieties are a part of taylor’s/james’s psyche regardless of the cause of them. the second verse of this is me trying begins with “They told me all of my cages were mental / So I got wasted like all my potential,” which is also consistent with the idea that anxieties are the root of big mistakes.

this is me trying (bridge):

And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound

aversion to parties/crowds is similar to verse 2 in betty, another indication it is the same people/events. feeling like an open wound is a callback to the 1, “And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow” and betty saying she’s “bleeding” in cardigan, “You drew stars around my scars / But now I'm bleedin'.”

this connection is very important because it proved, as i noted from peace, that BOTH betty and james ended up bleeding, contrary to the accounts in cardigan. BOTH of them were forced by circumstances to accept their permanent separation. therefore, the events in betty didn’t go as they seemed. 

It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town

james is missing betty intensely, just like in betty. the movie comparison brings in several songs to the same general story (in tracklist order): 

the 1: “I hit the Sunday matinée / You know the greatest films of all time were never made” -- during a daytime film viewing, betty remarks that no films she could watch would ever be the GREATEST. as a parallel to a later lyric, “We never painted by the numbers, baby / But we were making it count / You know the greatest loves of all time are over now,” we know betty thinks of this love story as the greatest of all time, even though it’s over.

cardigan: “I knew you / Tried to change the ending / Peter losing Wendy” i already discussed these lines above, but again the idea that james was unsuccessful in the attempt get back together with betty. james had to become Wendy too, and grow up and move on.

exile: “I think I've seen this film before / And I didn't like the ending” the constant comparison of this relationship to tragic films feeds the idea that the relationship was doomed from the start. in cardigan, james tries to change the ending in the hope that love will prevail over all. but in the more grounded reality of folklore such as exile, the pair are hyperaware of how that ending will inevitably happen too them too. “I think I've seen this film before / So I'm leaving out the side door,” so it was time to end it.

hoax: “You knew the hero died so what's the movie for?” here, it is almost a regret about beginning the relationship at all. it was obvious what the ending would be, they’ve seen this film before...but that doesn’t stop them from pursuing it anyways and trying to change the ending for themselves. with a different ending, it would be the greatest film of all time. this is why “Don't want no other shade of blue but you / No other sadness in the world would do” -- this love, although it is a tragedy, is the greatest. and nothing else is good enough.

betty (final): 

The only thing I wanna do Is make it up to you So I showed up at your party Yeah, I showed up at your party

the final pre-chorus reads like the beginning of a Disney movie or a folk tale even, almost as a “Once upon a time, there was a boy named James with one goal and it was to make up for his mistakes....” there should be an ellipsis (“...”) after the second line, creating a divide as the music begins to change and the story moves from reality to fantasy. the key change in the music confirms the transition to an imagined world where fears and anxieties and pressures didn’t get in the way of the greatest love of all time.

Yeah, I showed up at your party Will you have me? Will you love me? Will you kiss me on the porch In front of all your stupid friends? If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it? Will it patch your broken wings? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything But I know I miss you

typically, if a story is leading up to a character finally making a move, there is a payoff for the audience, revealing what ended up happening. in this case, it is still questions. it is still james brainstorming possibilities, still using the word “if.” the chorus concludes with the same “i know i miss you,” which doesn’t suggest any real progress from the beginning because there has to be distance still if james is still missing betty. however, the “would”s changed to “will”s, leading the listener to think james actually did manage to show up, maybe the fantasy is even fooling james himself.

Standing in your cardigan Kissin' in my car again

these lines in the outro of betty have a double meaning: james is either in a haze from happiness because of the reunion with betty or is dreaming about these things happening.

in cardigan, she sings: “To kiss in cars and downtown bars / Was all we needed” THESE LINES ALSO HAVE A DOUBLE MEANING: “all we needed” can both signal relief from the tension, as in, kissing again solved all their problems from before, OR it means “that was all we needed to fix us,” as in, we couldn’t or didn’t kiss in these places, so we’re exactly where we started: a romantic tragedy. this means the downtown bar is likely the party or a symbolic equivalent.

The first meaning of both of those lines was the one that occurred within the fictional/fantasy world. The second meaning, is the reality of what happened because JAMES ENDED UP NOT SHOWING UP TO THE PARTY.

Stopped at a streetlight You know I miss you

the “streetlight” seems to be significant imagery here. in cardigan, “But I knew you / Dancin' in your Levi's / Drunk* under a streetlight” -- this might be a spot of a fond memory that is triggered for james while he is driving by it, reminiscing on that time. 

also not on folklore, but in cornelia street, “We were in the backseat / Drunk* on something stronger than the drinks in the bar / The streetlights pointed in an arrowhead / Leading us home.” this cornelia street line seems to be describing a very similar story as cardigan. if so, this supports the idea that james was driving by this streetlight, the location of a very happy memory, and it makes him remember how much he misses her.

the repetition of “i miss you” here makes it clear james never was successful in getting back this love with betty. and betty knows he misses her: “I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired”

I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired And you'd be standin' in my front porch light And I knew you'd come back to me You'd come back to me And you'd come back to me And you'd come back

the fade out in this last chorus also seems to have implies ellipses after each “you’d come back” line because just like the final pre-chorus of betty, there is a hopeful fantasy here. almost like “you’d come back ... you’d come back to me... right?” but as we know from this is me trying, the only communication was that james is trying his best to move on and to be more mature. betty knows it is for the best. 

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