#which meant things got kinda frantically unpacked at random

[tj-crochets]

So I did not have a specific quilt in mind to work on next, but I rearranged some fabric to store the faux furs actually next to each other instead of in like three separate places, and in doing so I found my box of scraps from the rainbow triangle quilt!

20 half square triangles, one square, and a bunch of leftover fabric, so I think I’ll do some ironing, cut out some more HSTs, and see how big a quilt I can make with the scraps. It won’t be twin sized, but I’ll be able to make at least a baby quilt and probably a throw sized quilt, I think?

[pluckyredhead]

Daredevil 101: What Happened to Milla, Part 1

For the past while in Daredevil 101, Matt has been somewhat rockily married to a woman named Milla Donovan. Sharp-eyed readers may have noticed that Matt is no longer married in comics continuity. What happened?

*sigh* “To the Devil, His Due” and “Without Fear” happened, aka Daredevil v2 95-105 by Ed Brubaker and Michael Lark. Aka an absolutely interminable parade of pointless cruelty riddled with dangling plot threads and misogyny. Yes, the team that gave us the masterful “Devil in Cell Block D” has now gone off the rails so hard that Amtrak is still working on the repairs. (Sadly, their run never improves, so strap in, I guess.)

Now, Milla is not exactly my favorite character, but very few things in DD history make me madder than the way she was written off. It’s so clear that Brubaker wanted to fridge her but realized he couldn’t get away with a fifth dead Daredevil love interest, so he figured out a different “fate worse than death” (hoo boy we’ll have to unpack that in Part 2). No price is too high for a woman to pay if it means Matt Murdock suffers, amirite?

And with that tempting introduction (?), let’s get into it!

Content Warnings: Ableism, sexual assault and implied threats of sexual violence.

We begin with Melvin, who is in jail thanks to having attacked Matt back when he was blackmailed into doing so. Specifically, we begin with Melvin in a room with a bunch of dead bodies he swears up and down he isn’t responsible for.

Matt and Foggy and most especially Becky Blake believe him and take his case, but just a few days later it happens again - Melvin is found surrounded by dead bodies and claiming to have no memory of what happened but that he didn’t do it. The psych eval doesn’t go well, in that, well, he passes:

According to the doctor, this isn’t Melvin being taken over by his Gladiator personality or an actual second person stepping in - this is just Melvin himself killing people. Which for Melvin’s legal team (and friends) is the worst possible option, of course.

Meanwhile, Milla appears to have taken up therapy:

Aside from what this story does to Milla and Melvin, part of what makes it so bad is the structure. This was partially due to a couple of company-wide crossovers that we’ll see marching through the book in a little bit, but also just lots of things being set up and then dropped without going anywhere. Here we see Milla in therapy, which is never returned to or discussed. The sinister way this is framed makes it clear that the person she’s speaking to is the villain of the piece, but the fact that he met Milla at therapy is never revealed or mentioned at all. Later in the scene he says something about how he hasn’t told his wife that he’s in therapy but he should stop underestimating her, which is clearly meant to get under Milla’s skin in regards to her relationship with Matt, but that kind of subtle manipulation is too interesting for this story and leads absolutely nowhere. And of course we don’t get to actually see Milla talking to her therapist, which would require her to have an interior life.

Which means we have an entire scene that could have been replaced with a single panel of Milla bumping into someone on the street that would have had exactly the same effect on the plot. And the pacing problems only get worse from here, folks!

Anyway. The state decides to move Melvin, but he escapes his prison transport - and attacks Matt, who’s been keeping an ear on things:

Melvin kicks the crap out of Matt and escapes, but Matt realizes that there’s something wrong with Melvin - it may not be the Gladiator taking over, but this isn’t his friend, either.

The next day, Nelson and Murdock receive a surprise guest: Lily Lucca, who you may remember as she of the Karen-smelling perfume who aided and abetted in multiple murders and lured Matt into a confrontation with Vanessa Fisk:

As you’ll recall, the perfume Vanessa gave Lily to entrap Matt with makes her smell like every man’s fondest memory [INSERT GIANT EYEROLL HERE], which is why Foggy’s falling all over himself here. But now she has a problem: even though she’s not using the perfume anymore, she still smells like it, which means men are constantly creepily following her around, getting into fights over her, etc.

This is...sigh. There’s an aspect of “female character is punished for using her sexuality” here that makes me super uncomfortable. Certainly 90% of comic book villains have some kind of monkey’s paw in their backstory (“I tried to make a cool suit of armor and now I have robot tentacles!” “I tried to cryogenically freeze my dying wife and now I am really cold all the time!” etc.), but there’s a way in which it’s weaponized against certain types of female characters that’s deeply gendered and often kinda rape-y. (I got this vibe with Debbie and Micah Synn as well.) Lily wanted to control men through their desire to her? Well, now they might desire her so much they’ll assault her! That’ll show her! I guess. Ugh, it just grosses me out.

Anyway, Matt reluctantly agrees to help her, or more specifically have Dakota help her, since she won’t be affected by Lily’s scent the way he and Foggy will. Even with this caveat, when he meets Milla for dinner she does not like this:

I think we’re meant to be reading Milla as not being entirely rational about Lily because she’s so jealous of Karen’s memory and Lily reminds Matt of Karen, but she’s not wrong. I have no idea if we’re meant to read Matt as being sort of a douche in this scene but if my husband was like “Keep your voice down” and “Don’t be so hyperbolic” I would walk out of that fucking restaurant.

Or run, as the case may be:

Matt distracts Melvin so that Milla can get away (lotta Ms in this storyline), then somehow quick-changes to Daredevil for a fight. Melvin knocks him out and Matt wakes up handcuffed in the back of a police car:

The cops are arguing because it’s the middle of Civil War, which didn’t touch the Daredevil book very much but Matt was firmly on the anti-registration Team Cap side, unsurprisingly. As an unregistered superhero, just being out in a mask made him a criminal. (They don’t do anything with the fact that his secret identity was basically an open book at this point, which would have been interesting.)

Anyway, The Mysterious Voice Speaking On A Frequency Only Matt Can Hear gleefully tells him that he left his wallet at the restaurant, which has his home address, which means Melvin knows where to find Milla. Of course, Melvin was one of Matt’s bodyguards when his identity was first exposed and definitely already knew where he lived, but whatever.

Milla is, of course, wandering around the apartment in nothing but a bra and panties when Melvin shows up, because Daredevil artists apparently love putting her in her underwear to terrorize her and this is the last chance they’ll have to do it.

Melvin takes Milla up to the roof to wait for Matt. I’m including this exchange, where Milla tries to talk him down by appealing to his better nature, because it’s basically her last moment as herself. Reminding others of their better angels has always been one of her strengths, and she deserves to have that highlighted before...everything else.

Matt shows up. Melvin throws Milla off the roof:

Matt miraculously saves her and returns to fight Melvin, but Melvin has pretty much given up at this point and it’s all over but the crying. He’s bundled off to maximum security, and that’s...well, that’s the end of Melvin. This storyline came out in 2007, and this sweet, interesting character who has been around since the Silver Age has been unusable ever since. So thanks for that, Brubaker.

Matt’s furious, and determined to figure out who did this to Melvin:

“What did your sensei say about fighting angry?” always makes me laugh. Also, why would you ever suggest Matt follow Stick’s advice, Foggy, honestly.

(Foggy is A+++++ in this storyline and it makes me mad that I can’t even enjoy it because he’s just frantically trying to salvage a steaming pile of shit the whole time. Also given the overall ableism in this story I’m a little :/ that he basically takes over being the functional adult like Matt’s incapable of it.)

Matt runs into another dropped plot thread here because he gets on the trail of a street drug that makes people angry, which, like, how would Melvin have even gotten that in prison anyway, especially nonconsensually? Also, every other depiction of this drug shows it putting the user into a senseless rage, but Melvin sure was able to find his old lair, put on his Daredevil costume, track down Matt, and kidnap his wife when the plot required him to. How very Guardian Devil.

Anyway, Matt starts tracking the drug to its source. Meanwhile, Milla shows up at N&M:

Yeah, from here on out Milla is all tears and hysteria. Sigh.

Foggy decides to take her home, and Lily tags along, even though Foggy thinks that’s a REALLY REALLY bad idea because a) she's upsetting Milla, b) she fucks with Foggy’s head, and c) every dude in the subway is going to be all over her. But Lily insists, because she’s...manipulative? Genuinely feeling guilty and choosing the absolute worst way to fix that? Flimsy plot reasons? Let’s go with flimsy plot reasons.

While waiting for the train, Milla pretty much loses her shit at Lily, and also the world in general:

“I don’t know what I’ve done to you” is pretty rich, Lily. YOU LURED HER HUSBAND ON A MURDER CHASE ACROSS EUROPE.

Meanwhile, Dakota is still trying to figure out where Vanessa got Lily’s original perfume from - and Matt has followed the drug trail back to the Enforcers, a bunch of goofy-ass Silver Age villains we haven’t seen in decades. (They are specifically named the Ox, Fancy Dan, and Montana. They are ridiculous.) They clobber him and take him to their leader:

LARRY CRANSTON. MISTER FEAR. He made the perfume. He drove Melvin insane. And he’s the reason behind what happens next:

Lily lives. The random bystander does not. And when Matt, having been literally thrown out of the window and into the garbage by Mister Fear, returns home, Foggy is waiting for him:

Next Time: Milla is taken into custody, and Matt searches for a cure.

[thetenthdoctorscompanion]

A One Shot Series - Peter Parker/OC

Word Count: 3,446

Warnings: Heights?

MASTERLIST | PREV | Four

Smart lasted about a week. 

Peter hadn’t done it one purpose. He was just trying to keep his spidering random. Sometimes that meant going down one street. Sometimes that meant going down another. And yes, sometimes that meant swinging past Delmar’s. And when he did, sometimes he would happen to glance as Yasmin’s window. Sometimes she was there. Most times she wasn’t. However, there was one thing that was becoming something of a constant. 

He’d tried to ignore it the first time. He’d paused to take a breath on the opposite building, definitely not checking the windows to see if Yasmin was home or working. And he was about to speed off again when he spared a second glance at her room. Outside the window, in the empty flower bed, was another paper snack bag with a spider drawn on it. 

There was no way he was taking it, he told himself. He picked it up just long enough to ensure that there was nothing perishable—just more chips and granola bars—and then put it back in its place. Being Spider-Man was about helping people, doing his part to make the city a safer place for those who couldn’t protect themselves. It was not about getting free snacks and taking things from people who needed them. 

At the same time, the bag became something of a moral dilemma for him. It plagued him at night whenever he had trouble falling asleep. Was it worse to take the bag when Yasmin had no need to pay him? Or to ignore it knowing there was a good chance she was checking her window every day for the moment it disappeared? 

But her expectations didn’t matter, Peter decided. He couldn’t get close to people as Spider-Man. That was setting himself up for disaster, he knew it. Yet every time he reminded himself of that conclusion, another voice in his head would remind him that leaving the bag on her windowsill was practically putting up a poster that said, “Spider-Man might stop by one of these days.” He should probably take the bag if only to get the spider off of her window. 

With the never-ending battle raging in his head, the only thing Peter could do was ignore the problem entirely. That worked for a while, until the world decided to make his decision for him. 

 He lost his first backpack. 

Peter had no idea what had happened. The corner rooftop he’d been using had seemed like such a secure place! He’d never run into anyone up there, never seen another living soul. He wasn’t even sure how building occupants were supposed to access the roof. All he knew was that he’d stashed his backpack away after marching band, and when he’d come back at the end of the night, it had vanished. 

Aunt May had not been pleased. 

“What on Earth were you doing with it?” she demanded. 

“I’m sorry! You know, I was just—I was running to get to band practice, and the strap caught on—on a door, and the seams just—chrt! The—The whole thing just like fell apart.” 

“Well, why don’t you just give it to me? I can see if I can sew it back together.” 

“I kinda…threw it out…” 

“Peter!” 

“I panicked! My stuff was everywhere. I was running late. Look, I don’t need to replace anything in my backpack. I just need a new one. Any one.” 

Another lie. He hadn’t lost anything too valuable though. His textbooks had been in his locker, so the only thing he really had to worry about was redoing the work that he’d lost and borrowing some of Ned’s notes. If he skipped out on his spideroute for a few days, he should be able to make it up. He’d need new pens and a protractor—thank God he hadn’t lost the graphing calculator—but he’d also lost all the lunch money he’d had for the week. No way was he asking May for more. 

So very early before school, he swung by the bodega and snatched the bag from her window. He left a web on the grate as an afterthought, just so she could be sure it hadn’t been an overachieving pigeon. And the next time he’d gone by, there was already a brand new bag in its place. 

After one dumb decision, the rest followed like dominoes. I mean, really, he didn’t have enough lunch money for the week, so it wouldn’t be too bad if he took another bag to school. He just had to take it out of the spider bag first. And he stopped another robbery at a jewelry store, which was a pretty big deal, so he kind of deserved a bag of chips. And tomorrow they were serving spaghetti on the lunch line, and everyone knew that eating the school tomato sauce was always a gamble, so it was safer if he just stuck with his snack bag. 

But the guilt was starting to eat at him again. So as soon as it was dark enough, Peter made his way over to the bodega and scaled down from the roof. The light was on behind Yasmin’s curtains. If he listened closely, he could hear her humming as she sat on her bed. He cleared his throat and knocked on the glass. 

The humming stopped immediately. He was actually impressed by how quickly she managed to part the curtains and get the window open. Then he was staring upside down at her blinding smile. 

“Hi,” she stage-whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, midnight snack?” He lifted up the bag she’d left out for him, and revealed the second paper bag he’d brought along. “Wanna split it?” 

“O-Okay. But um…I mean, what happened to staying undercover?” 

“Well, I was kind of thinking we could eat up here?” 

“Up…?” She blinked at him for a few seconds before her eyes shot to the ceiling. “On—On the roof?” 

“Uh, yeah. This way we don’t have to worry about anyone seeing, and you don’t make yourself a target.” 

“Why would I be a target?” 

“Cause you’re hanging out with me. If the bad guys know that I’m talking to you they could use you to get to me or something.” 

“Bad guys?” she echoed, almost smirking. “Spider-Man, unless there’s something you’re not telling anyone, the most you’ve done is stopped a couple street robberies. You’re not fighting the mafia.” 

“Yet,” he countered, jabbing a finger at her. “I just want to be safe. O-Only if you’re comfortable with that, of course. We don’t have to.” 

“No, it’s fine, I just uh…I don’t actually know how to get onto the roof.” 

Behind his goggles, Peter grinned. 

“Give me two seconds. Grab a sweatshirt, okay?” 

He scaled back up the wall, depositing the two lunch bags on the other side of the ledge. Inspecting the cement, he shot a stream of web onto the ground and yanked on it to test the weight. It shouldn’t be too hard. He only had to make it a couple of feet anyway. 

“Spider-Man?” 

Yasmin was peeking up at him out of her window. Peter dropped the makeshift rope down to her, where it brushed against the sill. He got far too much enjoyment from the panicked look on her face. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

“Don’t worry,” he laughed. “This is just a precaution. You trust me?” 

“Well…yeah. But I’m starting to think I shouldn’t.” 

Peter knew it wasn’t polite to laugh. He kept a grip on the edge of the building and threw the rest of his body down to her, offering his other hand. Nervous as she looked, she slipped out of her window and reached up to grab it. 

 It was both easier and harder than he’d expected. Yasmin was just as tall as he was, which meant a considerable amount of weight. He’d never deadlifted anything as heavy as a whole person before, but with his new spider-strength, it wasn’t as much work as he’d thought. On the other hand, the weight of two entire people was more stress on his stickiness than he’d been prepared for. He slipped down about an inch before he recovered. Yasmin gasped, her feet frantically looking for her window box again, but Peter held her tight. 

“Woah, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I got you.” 

He hauled her up, switching her from his arm to his back. She gripped at his shoulders for her life, face buried in the folds of his hoodie. Peter blushed, but scaled the rest of the wall without a problem. 

“Okay, you’re good. See? Easy peasy.” 

Yasmin was slow to retract her arms, though both their feet were on the ground again. She wobbled, and Peter grabbed her arm again. Just to be safe, he eased her down into a sitting position. 

“Sorry. Uh—not easy peasy? I didn’t mean um…are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, I just…” 

“Is it the height? I am so sorry. If—If you try and think about it, we’re not that much higher than your room! And I promise I’m not gonna let you fall. We can sit in the middle of the roof if you want, and that way…” 

“I’m fine,” she repeated. Her voice was still shaky, but her lips pulled into an uneasy smile. “Believe it or not, it’s the dangling over the street by a stranger’s neck. Not the height.” 

“Uh…right…” 

“I guess we should still move to the middle of the roof though. Just so no one sees us.” 

She took one more look out at the street before moving, and Peter let her lead the way. He plopped down next to her, back to the rumbling generator, and held up the two paper bags. He’d drawn a lopsided smiley face on hers to match. 

“Swap ya? I didn’t know what you liked, so I just guessed. I hope you’re not allergic to peanut butter.” 

Peter watched, holding his breath as Yasmin unpacked her lunch bag—PB&J, pretzels, fruit cup, pudding cup, and two little juice boxes. She hid her face in hands, and resurfaced with a grin. 

“I feel like I’m in the second grade!” 

“Is that bad?” 

“Definitely not,” she assured him. “You want half of this? I feel bad you don’t have a sandwich.” 

He accepted half of the PB&J, though it took him a few more seconds to process. Yasmin was already taking her first few bites, and Peter frowned at his sandwich through his mask. “I…really did not think this through…” 

“Wha—? Oh.” Yasmin wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, shifting nervously. “Um…I could turn around if you want? We could sit back to back. That way I can’t see you.” 

Peter was hesitant. Coming here had been a bad idea in the first place, and now he was going to risk letting her find out who he was? Who he really was? He wasn’t insane. 

But Yasmin couldn’t see his nerves through the mask. She was already turning around, her legs folded neatly under her with no sign of looking back. Peter scooted back against her, pulling up the mask just enough to free his mouth. 

“No peeking, okay?” he said urgently. “Seriously. No matter how curious you are.” 

“I promise.” 

And for whatever reason, Peter believed her. Maybe he was insane after all. 

They ate in comfortable silence, the distant traffic and radios of passing cars creating a gentle hum in the night. Yasmin still jolted at sudden noises, but not as much as she had been a week or two prior. None of it fazed Peter. He could barely taste the peanut butter he was eating. He was too hyper-aware of Yasmin’s lower back pressed against his own. She was shivering, and he felt bad for dragging her out into the winter air so late at night, but neither of them made any motion to move. 

“Hey,” said Yasmin, breaking the silence with a rustle of her bag, “why is there a used scratch off in here?” 

“Oh yeah, that’s one of the ones you gave me. I won like twenty bucks, so I figured I’d give it back.” 

“Why? That’s why I gave it to you.” 

“Well, I can’t cash it in as Spider-Man, and if I showed up with that without the mask then you’d know who I was.” 

“Okay. Why don’t you just cash it in someplace else?” 

Peter took a few gulps from his water to buy himself time. He was going to circle back around to the ‘I-don’t-want-your-money’ defense, but Yasmin spoke first. 

“Unless, um…can you even cash this?��� 

“What? What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Sorry, just…don’t take this the wrong way, you just seem kind of…small…” 

“Hey! I—I am not small!” 

“You know what I mean,” she said with a small laugh. “Your size, your voice, the way you talk. You come off as younger as the average superhero. I can’t exactly imagine Iron Man going around passing out sandwiches to random teenagers, you know?” 

“No, I don’t know that,” he said defensively. Yasmin shoved him slightly with her back, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine, maybe not Tony Stark, but uh…what about Captain America? He would definitely be the kind of hero to hand out homemade sandwiches.” 

“No, Captain America would not pass out PB&Js. He would work in a soup kitchen, or come to your assembly to serve you a hot lunch.” 

“Well, it’s the one thing that can always give you an edge.” 

Peter snickered at his reference, and Yasmin did too. But when she spoke, her voice was willed with vindication. 

“I knew it.” 

“You—uh—huh?” 

“You’re young,” she clarified. “They didn’t start showing those videos in school until 2013, after the Battle of New York. So at most you’re, what? Twenty-two?” 

“What? No, I’m uh—shit, that’s…” 

 Peter open and closed his mouth a couple of times, quickly doing to the math in his head. He’d been an idiot. He’d just walked right into that one, not fifteen minutes after he’d told himself staying was going to be a bad idea. His stomach clenched. 

“You’re really smart,” he sighed, hopelessly. 

“Not really. I guess I’ve just um…put a lot of thought into it.” 

He ignored the ill-timed pang of excitement that sent through his chest. 

“Listen, Yasmin, you—you can’t tell anybody that, okay?” 

“What, that you’re young?” 

“Any of this. Anything you know about me makes it easier to narrow down who I am, and—I just really don’t want anyone to know that.” 

“Okay. I—I’m sorry.” 

Her voice was quiet. Despite the seriousness of the whole thing, he kind of felt guilty. He wanted to spend time with her—impossibly—but it was hard to do that without giving himself away. And yeah, he didn’t want to tell anyone that he was Spider-Man just yet. He didn’t have the luxury that came with honesty like Tony Stark did. If he told people, they’d treat him different. He might have to move, or get sent to scientists so they could do weird tests on him and stuff. 

But another part of him was keeping silent for a different reason. What would a girl like Yasmin say when she found out the guy who saved her hadn’t been some cool Tony Stark in disguise? He was just a nerd who build computers and couldn’t speak to her without a mask. Not exactly heroic. 

“Just…nothing else about me, okay?” he said, his voice softening. 

“Sure,” she agreed. “But um…what about this you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, what about Spider-Man? Can I ask about him?” 

Peter frowned, picking at his bag of chips. “What do you wanna know?” 

“I don’t know. Where did he come from? Have you always been able to like…climb walls and stuff?” 

“No, um…actually this is all pretty recent. A couple months now.” 

“And you just woke up like that?” 

“I got bit a spider. Hence…everything.” 

“Oh my God, seriously?” she gasped. “You got a bug bite and just…woke up with superpowers? What if I get bit by a mosquito and become like a supervillain?” 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Peter laughed. “It wasn’t just a random spider. It was like a super-spider. They were doing some kind of radioactive testing and…this is what happened.” 

“So what can you do? I know you can stick to walls. It looks like you’ve got some kind of super strength or super agility or something. Unless you’ve always done gymnastics.” 

“Ha, uh, definitely not. Most of it is just like…heightened senses? It’s like everything’s more intuitive now. I can tell if something’s wrong or if someone’s in some kind of danger, but it also means my reflex time is like a fraction of what it used to be. I can jump, I can catch, I can dodge. Like my body just knows what to do without me telling it to. So now I can do sick backflips and stuff.” 

“And that stuff you shoot, does that like come out of you or…?” 

“Ew, no. Gross.” 

“Well what do you expect? Spiders make the silk for their webs, right? That’s not a weird question.” 

“No, I get it, but—no. I make this on my own. Like chemically. I mean I designed it.” 

It was silent for a few seconds. Behind him, Yasmin was very still. 

“You…chemically designed your own super-webs?” 

“Yeah. And the web shooters. I wear them on my wrists with like a cartridge for the web? And when I press the triggers there’s a contained reaction inside the chamber—that’s what propels the web. It took me a couple weeks, but I’m really starting to get a lot more comfortable with them now. And depending how I press the trigger and I can get different kinds of streams! So like if I do it one way I can make this rope-kind of effect, and if I do it a different way I get the wide-spread kind of net, like when I tried to fix your door. I really want to work more on the web-life, so I can control how long they take to dissolve. Eventually I wanna build a control onto the shooters, but for now I’m just sort of guestimating, so…” 

Peter flushed, silently banging the heels of his hands against his head. 

“Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“No, it’s fine! I mean, I barely understand half of what you’re saying but…you did all of this by yourself?” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess. Why?” 

“Cause that’s…crazy impressive.” She giggled, the sound filling Peter with a comfortable warmth. “You’re must be some kind of baby genius. I mean, I figured you’d been set up with fancy gadgets by some investor like Tony Stark or something. One of your superhero friends.” 

“I don’t have superhero friends,” he said quickly. “I’m—I’m not even really a superhero.” 

“Well you save people, and you have superpowers. Aren’t those the only two requirements?” 

“I guess, but…you know, it’s like you said. I’m fighting robbers, saving cats. It’s not like I’m taking on the mafia, or terrorists. I can do these things, but I don’t feel like I’m a hero.” 

They sank into silence again. Peter gnawed on his bottom lip, even as she comfortingly leaned against him. He wanted to be a hero. He wanted to be like Iron Man and Captain America and the rest of the Avengers. And maybe he could someday. He just needed the opportunity to prove himself. He almost hated himself for hoping for it. For heroes, there needed to be danger, tragedy. He’d never want to openly hope for something like that to happen. But he knew that there were terrible things going on in the world, and sometimes he couldn’t help but feel frustrated that with everything he could do, the only thing he was stopping was petty theft. He wanted to do more. 

“Nope,” said Yasmin suddenly, shaking her head. “No way.” 

“No?” Peter asked. “No what?” 

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that this time around. I’m not doing it.” 

“Doing what?” 

“The whole doe-eyed fangirl thing. You want me to say ‘well you saved my life, so you’re a hero to me,’ and I’m not gonna do it.” 

Peter laughed, really laughed. He had to cover his face for fear of being too loud, and rocked back into Yasmin as his body shook. She reached back and swatted him on the arm, still giggling herself. 

“Hey,” he managed through his chuckles. “You said it, not me.” 

“Alright. Shut it, Spider-Man.”

---

TAG LIST: @lostinwonderland314 (You singlehandedly revived this, good work haha)