[romance | thereās no one else youād rather watch the fireworks with than him.]
ā king.
[fluff | "checkmate.ā]
ā novelty.
[fluff | you wonder if damian likes flowers.]
ā rain sounds.
[50 wordless ways to say āi love youā: #21 | romance | the rain falls, and so do you.]
ā redemption.
[angst | the servants give and the masters take; and take, and take.]
ā sold out.
[fluff | in which the kissing booth goes exactly as you thought it would.]
Drabbles
ā 21:00.
[fluff | a car ride with damian after a very long day.]
āĀ moon.
[vampire!damian | fluff | the moonlight reflects in his eyes.]
āĀ the night.
[vampire!damian | slight horror | it was a dark and stormy night.]
Dick Grayson:
ā bottled up.
[50 wordless ways to say āi love youā: #14 | romance | your days of ballroom waltzes are over, but sometimes dick reminds you how nice it was to dance with him.]
ā snapshot.
[50 wordless ways to say āi love youā: #23 | fluff | youād like to think that you and dick make a good pair,Ā whether youāre dressed as vigilantes or cowboys.]
ā symptom.
[50 wordless ways to say āi love youā:Ā #33 | fluff | finally, you get an excuse to visit an old friend.]
Jason Todd:
ā assistance.
[50 wordless ways to say āi love youā: #43 | fluff | in which grocery shopping with jason todd actually goes as planned.]Ā Ā
ā steady.
[50 wordless ways to sayĀ āi love youā: #1 | hurt/comfort; angst | you used to know jason todd.]
Rachel Roth:
ā wordly things.
[titans | 50 wordless ways to say āi love youā: #21 | fluff | after church, rachel waits outside with you while it rains.]
Wally West:
ā cheesy.
[yj | 50 wordless ways to say āi love youā: #11 | fluff | yeah, heās your plus one to your cousinās wedding. so what?]
āĀ if you insist.
[yj | 50 wordless ways to say āi love youā: #7 | fluff |Ā āwhat, want me to kiss it better or something?ā]
MARVEL:
Hobie Brown:
ā crash.
[spiderverse | fluff | you, hobie's best mate and unofficial roommate, meet gwen stacy when hobie lets her crash at his place for the first time.]
ā upside down.
[spiderverse | fluff | spider-punk is a menace in the mornings. you don't mind as much as you pretend to.]
Pavitr Prabhakar:
ā to see a world (in a grain of sand) āØ
[spiderverse | fluff; hurt/comfort | you dislike mumbattan and all the people in it ā even the weird kid in your class who insists on becoming your friend. especially him.]
Warnings: Slight body horror, canon-typical violence, parents fighting
You meet Pavitr Prabhakar in the same way the sun meets your face on a Saturday morning: without warning and very, very unwillingly.
In your defense, youāve already established your stance on socializing by folding your arms over your desk and burying your face into them ā but at the sound of his laughter, breathless and easy as he drops into the seat next to yours, you canāt help but sneak a peek at the boy who seems so bloody chipper this early in the day. Just for a split second to confirm that he looks as annoying as he sounds.
This leads to two unfortunate consequences.
One, the boy somehow notices that extremely minuscule movement and takes it as an open invitation to introduce himself.
Two, you learn that he does not, in fact, look as annoying as he sounds. (Heās horribly good-looking. Horribly, horribly good-looking.)
He opens his mouth and word vomit comes out.
āOh, hey! Iāve never seen you before. Whatās your name? Iām Pavitr but all my friends call me Pav. Are you a transfer student? Are you from Mumbattan āā
You open your other eye while he blathers on, stunned.
This guy canāt be human.
āāmakes the best aloo tikki, so I can totally show you where his stall is sometime if you want. Sorry, whatās your name again?ā
Your mouth goes dry when he finally stops talking to stare expectantly at you.
ā⦠[Y/n],ā you mumble, thoroughly surprising yourself.
He repeats your name back to you. āCool! If you ever need anything, Iām literally just a desk away.ā
You donāt answer this time, choosing instead to close your eyes and bury your face in your arms once more. Youāre so tired.
ā
Pavitr Prabhakar, despite your best efforts, is your shadow for the rest of the day. He introduces you to his best friend Hari Oberoi, discreetly points out his crush Gayatri Singh to you when she glides by, and attempts to drag you to the aloo tikki vendor after school lets out. You are only able to shake him off with the excuse of having tuition, and even then, he offers to walk with you (probably just to hear himself talk some more).
By the time you finally get home, you feel like youāve returned from war.
āBeta, is that you? How was your first day?ā
āFine.ā
āWhat?ā
You speak louder, entering the kitchen. āFine, Ma.ā
Ma eyes you critically but turns back to the dinner cooking on the stove. āHow are the teachers? Are they as good as Mr. Oberoi said?ā
āYes.ā You pull out a chair from the table and collapse into it, breathing in the mouth-watering air until your lungs are fit to burst. āHe has a son named Hari, by the way.ā
āReally? He never mentioned a son.ā
You shrug.
āWhereās Papa?ā you ask, as you hadnāt seen his shoes by the door when you came in.
The spoon in Maās hand scrapes loudly against a pan.
The silence stretches, a tight and fraying rubber band. You straighten in your chair, eyelids not so heavy anymore.
ā⦠Ma?ā
She turns around. You swallow as she seems to look straight through you. āPapaās in a meeting with Mr. Oberoi right now,ā she says. āYouāll see them after dinner. Someone is coming by to pick you up.ā
āBut I have homework,ā you say. āHow come Mr. Oberoi wants to meet so late?ā
āI donāt know,ā Ma tells you sharply. You wince and look down, fiddling with the buttons of your new uniform. āBut heās done so much for us, and he probably has a good reason for it. Youāll find the time for homework in between.ā
Wordlessly, you nod. Ma brings the food to the table, and you watch as she serves you and then herself, your hands clasped tightly in your lap.
The food does not smell as good anymore.
ā
You tell Pavitr that youāre from a small village north of Mumbattan. He is overjoyed by the information.
āMe too! Well, I moved here when I was seven, but wow! We have so much in common,ā he gushes in between bites of his lunch. āThe big cityās a lot different, isnāt it? I didnāt like it at first, but now itās like I was always meant to be here.ā
You hum blandly and swing your legs, the backs of your shoes hitting the brick wall the three of you are sitting on. Why Pavitr strongarmed you into eating lunch with him and Hari is still a mystery to you, but you do know that itās starting to get very hard to say no to the guy. Disappointing him leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
Hari cocks an eyebrow at you. āNot hungry again?ā he questions, gesturing at your untouched plate.
Heat rises to your cheeks. You shake your head. āYou want it?ā
āHuh?ā
āDo you want it?ā
āOh. Well,ā Hari drags out the word, then grins. āIf you insist. No wasting of food, and all that.ā You roll your eyes as he takes your plate. āThank you for your generous donation.ā
Pavitr reaches over you to partake in the donation as well, only to receive a slap to the hand.
āOw?!ā
āDrama queen. You havenāt even finished your own plate yet, Pav.ā
āI just wanted a taste!ā
āWe all got the same thing for lunch!ā
āYeah, but the lunch lady doesnāt like me for some reason. What if I got less spices in my sabji?ā
āYou think the lunch lady unspiced your sabji specifically to spite you?ā
āItās not outside the realm of possibility!ā
Hari gazes up at the sky and groans. āI canāt believe youāre one of the top students here.ā
You eye Pavitr, who pouts and shovels the rest of his food into his mouth. Indeed, youād have a hard time believing it too, if it wasnāt for the fact that his name is consistently at or near the top of the list when test grades are posted, as well as the fact that heās never gotten a question wrong in class.
(As opposed to you, who is quickly becoming the bane of your science teacherās existence.)
āIāve been blessed with a good memory,ā Pavitr defends. āAnd anyways, are you not worried about [Y/n] here?ā He fixes you with what seems to be a concerned look. āIāve only seen you eat lunch twice in the past few weeks! What about malnutrition?ā
You open your mouth and shut it several times, face burning. Why is he so nosy? āI ⦠I-I have stomach issues,ā you eventually hear yourself telling him, because the other answer ā that your digestive system has the nasty habit of turning into sand without warning ā is a one-way ticket to a government lab. āAnd itās kind of embarrassing, so could you not talk about it?ā
āYeah, Pavitr, donāt butt into peopleās business,ā Hari chides.
Pavitr splutters. āBut you also āā he starts, only to cut himself off when he makes eye contact with you. A guilty expression crosses his handsome features. ā⦠Ah. Sorry. I wonāt bring it up again.ā
āOkay,ā you say. Then, as an afterthought and just to be polite, you add, āI forgive you.ā
A smile spreads across his face again, wide and sunny, and you suddenly have a vested interest in the ticking of your watch.
This is bad.
ā
āThis is very good,ā the Doctor says as you lay on the exam table. āWhat do you feel?ā
āEverything,ā you grit out.
Thereās sand in your guts, in between your ears, crawling down your throat. You grip your fatherās hand, and he squeezes it back just as tightly, the pressure many tiny prickles that somehow register in your wreck of a body.
āIām sorry, beta,ā Papa whispers as the Doctor types something into his data pad. āBut it gets worse before it gets better, doesnāt it?ā
You groan. Youāre not so sure.
āA fully activated X-gene complex,ā Mr. Oberoi says. āYouāre very lucky, [Y/n]. Who knows what wouldāve happened if it remained only partially activated?ā
āBased on the progression of the images I took,ā the Doctor answers, mechanical arms clicking as they loom around him, ātheir vital organs would have turned into sand before the completion of this ⦠soul molecule, as I call it.ā
(In other words, youād be dead.)
Mr. Oberoi makes a strange, noncommittal noise. āThat wouldāve been terrible, yes?ā
āWe canāt express our gratitude enough,ā Papa says fervently. āThank you, Mr. Oberoi. Thank you, Doctor. Weāre forever indebted to you both.ā
āNot forever. Just for as long as we discussed.ā
āO-Of course. Thank you.ā A pause, then, āMy child will be safe the entire time, as you promised?ā
āAs long as they follow my instructions, very little will be able to harm them.ā You hear the man walk over to another part of the room, followed by the dry rattle of pills in a bottle. āNow, I have several things to discuss with just the Doctor and your child, so if you donāt mind? There is a driver waiting for you outside the building.ā
Your father seems very reluctant, as he takes a minute to let go of your hand. You canāt help but try to reach out, but the discomfort is too great, and suddenly your arm is nothing but a pile of sand by your side.
It takes a moment to process the loss. When it finally does, you retch.
Papa gasps and scrambles to catch the few grains spilling over the side of the table. āOh ā!ā
āItās alright,ā the Doctor assures. If anything, he sounds delighted. āThey should be able to put themselves back together. Such is the beauty of their mutation.ā
Mr. Oberoi approaches your side. āGo ahead, [Y/n]. Show us what you can do.ā
āIt hurts,ā you say, biting your bottom lip so hard that it wouldāve bled if you could. Youāre barely holding the rest of you together as it is. When you breathe, you can feel specks of you falling from your mouth. āI canāt.ā
āYes, you can.ā
They watch you struggle on that table for hours, it seems. But you eventually put yourself back together. All by yourself.
ā
You get an unprecedented week of excused absences from school and stay at Oberoi Industries to adjust to your new body. Your parents are allowed to visit you at the end of that week. After that, Mr. Oberoi restipulates the conditions of your familyās contract with him, and you start working for him on the weekends and on Mondays and Fridays after school.
As for what your job entails ā
āItās like youāre new to this or something. Is this your first day?ā
You scowl, molding your arm into a sledgehammer and heaving it at Spider-Man. Itās true that you still need practice controlling your sand, but the one-sided banter that comes with it is quickly getting old.
Spider-Man easily dodges and comes up behind you. His fist shoots through your back and out of your abdomen.
You look down as he chuckles nervously.
āWhoops.ā
Sneering, you twist around and punch him down the street. He tumbles and flies over the tops of several cars (some abandoned, most still holding irritated commuters) before flipping himself right side up again with his webs, quickly swinging his way back to you.
āCan we bring this fight to the top of a building or something? Weāre holding up traffic!ā
āShut up!ā
He gasps, kicking a piece of your shoulder off. āWow, thatās the first thing youāve ever said to me! Now weāre getting somewhere!ā
Using the web of telephone wires above the two of you, he propels himself upward and onto the roof of an apartment building. You have no choice but to follow.
āSo, whatās your deal, anyways? āCause it seems to me that you have a loooot of pent-up aggression, and I was just hanging around when you decided to try to kidnap me,ā he calls out. āWe can talk about your feelings if you want to! Iām your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man for a reason.ā
Hanging around. Hanging ā
Is he making puns right now?
āI told you to shut up!ā you shriek, sand spitting everywhere.
āSheesh. Okay.ā Spider-Man zips over to a nearby water tower. Hanging upside-down in front of it, he crosses his arms. ā⦠Is that helmet an accessory, or is it part of your face? No judgement; itās cool either way.ā
Oh, you want to break this guy like a twig.
āItās part of my face,ā you snap, and with a grunt, you throw yourself forward with a spiked fist at the ready.
That is a grave mistake.
Spider-Man pulls himself up and out of the way, and you hit the water tower, splintering the wood like paper. Water gushes forth.
You stumble back, anger immediately crushed by panic. Half of you falls off and lands on the roof with a wet slap. Try as you might, you canāt pull the sand back to yourself; the muddy parts of you are sluggish and messy, and the water washing over it just makes it worse.
Avoid water if you can help it.
Shivers crawl up your body as you drag yourself to the edge of the building.
Through the haze, you vaguely hear Spider-Man splashing towards you.
āWait,ā he exclaims, sounding worried, āare you going to be okay?ā
āGo away!ā you screech, kicking a lump of mud at him.
In a strange, belated stroke of fortune, you manage to hit him square in the face. The vigilante sputters and pauses to wipe the gunk away.
You grip the edge of the parapet and look down at the alley below.
Youāll cut your losses.
With hardly a look at Spider-Man, you gather up the driest fragments of yourself and rip them away from the rest, diving down the side of the building in a cloud of sand. A bangle shoots through you, useless.
Pressing into a single layer, you dive underneath the cars packed onto the road. Every single particle of you trembles. You try to clear your mind; as long as you have your soul and the footage, youāll be fine.
ā
āYou keep losing.ā
āI know.ā
āThen why did you choose this game?ā
Pavitrās face remains pressed into the carpet as he mopes. āBecause I wonāt win if I stop trying.ā
āFifty. Straight. Wins.ā Hari gets up and stands over Pavitr. He plants a foot on his back and raises his fists to the ceiling. āI am the carrom champion!ā
A long, muffled sigh. āI thought Iād have better luck todayā ā Pavitr grabs Hariās foot and pulls him to the ground ā āaha! Got you!"
āOw! Hey!ā
Arms and legs flailing, the two tussle around for a few seconds until Hariās in a headlock, and thatās that.
ā[Y/n],ā Hari reaches for you in an exaggeratedly choked voice, āhelp me.ā
You stay in your crisscrossed position on the floor. āItās Pavitrās birthday, not yours,ā you reply solemnly.
Hariās face falls at the same time Pavitrās brightens.
āSee, bro? Thatās a true friend right there,ā Pavitr states, roughing up Hariās neatly combed hair with his knuckles. āNice to know I have some support while my other friend beats me fifty games in a row.ā
āThatās how you know Iām a true friend. I donāt let you win out of pity,ā the other boy wheezes.
āAnother round?ā
āFine, fine.ā
āKids? The cakeās here!ā
All three of your heads snap towards Maya auntyās voice.
āCake first,ā Pavitr decides, letting go of Hari.
He leads the way to the kitchen, followed by Hari and then you, where Maya aunty has already taken the cake out of the box.
Itās a beautiful cake. Large, too, ideal for a nice, thick slice for each of you and then some, slathered in buttery periwinkle frosting and lined with candied cherries and whipped cream. Written on the top is āHAPPY BIRTHDAY, PAVITRā in red icing.
āItās perfect, Aunty,ā Pavitr gushes as his aunt sticks fifteen candles in between the letters.
āYou get the same one every year, Pavitr,ā she replies, though the crinkles at the corners of her eyes betray her amusement.
After lighting the candles, you, Hari, and Maya aunty sing happy birthday to him. You feel a little awkward singing ā you never really sing, much less in front of other people ā but the joy coming off Pavitr in waves as he holds in his laughter makes you mind it less somehow. Hari is a lot louder than you and way more purposeful about being off-key, anyway.
Pavitr blows out all but one of the candles. He cuts out a piece of cake and feeds it to his aunt, then gets another piece for Hari.
When itās your turn, he hesitates.
āAre you sure you can eat this?ā he asks quietly.
You look at the chunk of cake, with its soft frosting and fluffy red velvet crumb, and you suddenly ache for it. āYeah,ā you lie, because you know that it will end up in the trash later, dry and undigested.
Pavitr grins and lifts the cake to your mouth. You take a bite, and even though the taste is dulled to almost nothing, you know that itās unbearably delicious.
āWhoops. Thereās some on your face,ā he says, and before you can even register it, heās swiping the frosting from the corner of your mouth and smearing it onto your nose instead.
Your heart jumps. āOh.ā
Pavitr laughs.
āOkay, our turn.ā Hari cuts a piece of cake and pushes it towards Pavitr. āSay ah, birthday boy!ā
āAh ā mmph.ā Pavitr scrunches his nose as Hari smushes the dessert across his mouth and cheek. He licks his lips and considers the taste, nodding satisfactorily. āMmm.ā
After Pavitrās gotten his share of the cake and washed the frosting off his face, the four of you have dinner. Maya aunty is exceedingly modest about her cooking, but itās obvious that she spared no effort in making sure everything was perfect. Pavitr and Hari scarf down everything they can fit onto their plates. You manage to take a few tiny bites of the rice and milder dishes.
Itās the best meal youāve had since you moved to Mumbattan, and itās not because of the food.
When the driver from Oberoi Industries comes by to pick you up for another appointment with the Doctor, itās already quite late at night.
āYou sure you canāt hang out here a little longer?ā Pavitr asks while you gather all your things at the door.
āNo, my curfewās pretty strict,ā you say.
Truth be told, you wish you could just blow off the appointment and stay in the cheerful little bubble of the Prabhakar home forever, but you need to refill your medications and make sure youāre not falling apart. Itās also the weekend, which means that youāre on the clock to record yourself getting a beating from Spider-Man.
āAw. Then I guess I have to release you,ā he quips, letting you out the door. His voice softens. āThanks for coming, [Y/n]. It means a lot to me.ā
You shuffle your feet, then look back up at him. āThanks for inviting me,ā you say, and you mean it. āI had fun. Happy birthday.ā
Pav smiles.
As you walk down the steps and towards the sleek black car parked nearby, you find yourself wishing that your parents had been able to come to the party. They would have enjoyed it, youāre sure, and they would have gotten along well with Maya aunty. Maybe they wouldāve remembered what it was like to actually be happy.
You miss home.
ā
Itās Tuesday night and your parents are arguing again.
āHeās taking advantage of us. You know this.ā
āAnd what can we do about it? Huh? After the accident, we didnāt know if [Y/n] would even survive. We should be thankful that Aadi had connections to Mr. Oberoi and his technology.ā
āDo not give him credit. Aadiā ā Ma seethes out your uncleās name ā āis the one who brought [Y/n] to the factory in the first place. This whole ordeal is his fault! Heās the reason why my child is suffering and why our life is like this!ā
āHe isnāt the one who caused the explosion!ā
āThat factory was never safe to begin with! Neither of you shouldāve been working there!ā
Peeking around the corner, you see Papa throw his hands up. āAh, so itās somehow my fault as well, then?ā
Their voices grow louder, and you unstick your feet from the floor, softening them to creep silently back into the hallway and into your room. You crawl into bed and wrap your pillow around your ears.
For as long as you can remember, your parents have been soft-spoken, nonconfrontational people. They rarely fought before the move. Now, this same conversation happens every other day and ends the same way every time: no resolution, just yelling until one of them storms off to cool down in their bedroom. What starts with Mr. Oberoi and the contract veers into a bitter tangle of what shouldāve been done and whose fault it is for how things have turned out.
You, of course, are at the root of it all.
The noise seeps in through your pillow. You uncover your ears and lay flat on your back.
For a moment, you contemplate texting Pav or Hari to distract yourself. But you never initiate a texting conversation, and to do so randomly and this late at night is bound to raise some unwanted questions, so you quickly discard the idea. Besides, after what happened today, youāre not too keen on speaking to Pav.
Your gaze slides over from the ceiling to your window. The curtains are drawn, dark and heavy. You donāt exactly feel like youāre in your own body when you get out of bed to push them open a crack.
Outside, Mumbattan is just as awake as you are. City lights twinkle in rows and columns, urban stars that flush out the blackness of night. When you open the window, sirens whine in the distance. There are people laughing on the street two floors below.
The sight of that world, moving, oblivious, fills you with something frantic. You close the curtains again and slip through them in a thread of sand, heading straight up to the roof.
The air is warm and thick as you fly from building to building, letting motor memory take over. Itās a poor decision to make; if you had paused for a moment to think about where it would take you, perhaps you wouldāve just stayed in your room.
Because the next thing you know, Oberoi Tower is looming in front of you, tall and unobstructed by the rest of the city.
You skid to a stop. A single thought comes together as your body does, burning hot as it crawls into your throat and scorches your tongue behind your teeth. You let it out.
āI HATE YOU!ā you scream at Oberoi Tower. āI HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!ā
For as long as you can, you scream at Oberoi and the Doctor and the rest of Mumbattan. You scream at them for making your parents fight, for taking you away from your home, for taking away the rest of your humanity. You scream until your voice gives out and your throat feels brittle.
Then you crumple onto the filthy roof. There is no relief as you sob; you donāt have any tears to cry out.
ā⦠Excuse me?ā
On instinct, your skin hardens and your hands curl into fists. You force yourself to still, lifting your head to peer up at Spider-Man.
He glances around, then squats down to your level to return your gaze.
āHi,ā he says gently. āWhatās going on? Whatās wrong?ā
āNothing,ā you say. You tell yourself that youāre not here to fight him. āJust had a crappy day.ā
āHow so?ā
āDonāt you have bad guys to take care of?ā
āNot at the moment.ā
āWell, can you leave me alone anyway?ā
āIām afraid not.ā Spider-Man reaches out to pat your shoulders. āYouāre important to me. I mean, not in a personal sense! But in the sense that I protect Mumbattanās citizens, and you are a completely random citizen of Mumbattan who I want to help.ā
You hug your knees to your chest. āWhatever.ā
Glaring at the ground beside you, you hope that he takes the hint that youāre not in danger and that he should leave. He doesnāt.
After a few minutes, you shoot him an irritated glance.
He raises his hands. āI was just thinking that maybe youād want to talk about it or something. Sometimes itās nice to vent to somebody on the outside.ā
āI donāt.ā
āWell, Iām also not comfortable just leaving you alone on top of a random building in the middle of the night. Some of the villains around here can fly. Itād be super easy for them to just pluck you up like some sort of giant, freaky, predatory bird, you know? Iāve seen it.ā
You scoff. āNot that easy.ā
āWhat do you mean?ā
āNothing,ā you mutter, scooting back so you can stretch your legs out and put more distance between you and the masked hero. āIāll be fine. Leave me alone.ā
āIām serious! This isnāt the safest part of the city. I can swing you back home when youāre ready ā Iād feel better knowing that you got back home safe and sound.ā
The thread snaps.
āCan you stop that?ā you bark. āJust stop.ā
Spider-Man blinks. ā⦠Stop what?ā he questions, sounding a little hurt. āIām just āā
āDoing your duty? Whatever. Itās so annoying. Youāre always acting so good, and like you actually care. I bet youāve never done a bad thing in your entire life. Everything comes so easily to you.ā
āThatās not true,ā he says quietly.
āProve it.ā
āI canāt.ā
āThen leave me alone,ā you say. You know that youāre being mean. You canāt stop yourself, and you donāt care.
The vigilante regards you thoughtfully, big, white eyes staring into your own until you turn away with a scoff. Ā
āIāll leave you alone if you answer my question,ā Spider-Man finally says.
āOkay, fine.ā
āMy Spider-Sense āā
āYour what.ā
āItās a danger detector in my head ā anyway, itās going off right now.ā He points at his head with both hands. āItās been going off since I met you. I checked and it looks like this building is abandoned, so I can only assume that you have something to do withā ā you stand up, and he sputters ā āhey, where are you going? Am I correct?ā
āNo,ā you say, walking away.
āI donāt believe you,ā Spider-Man protests, even while you look for a normal way down. āYou have to be honest or it doesnāt count.ā
āYou just donāt like my answer.ā
āI donāt like your answer because itās not the truth.ā
āIt is the truth.ā The door leading into the building is locked. You step closer to hide the doorknob and quickly unlock it with your thumb, and once youāve opened the door, you look over your shoulder to see Spider-Man standing in the same place where you had left him. āAnd even if it wasnāt, itās none of your business. Iām not hurting anyone.ā
āNot even yourself?ā
Your face pinches into something sour, and he sighs, loud enough for you to hear across the distance youāve put between the two of you.
āIām sure you have people who care a lot about you,ā Spider-Man says. āYou can talk to them, you know?ā
āNot really.ā
āThey might understand more than you think.ā
āI doubt it,ā you say.
With that, you start down the staircase, leaving Spider-Man behind to huff and puff.
Because you know that heāll try to follow you home, you split yourself into tiny threads once youāre far enough into the building and escape through several different floors and windows. Itās a hassle and youāre annoyed the entire time, but itās better than walking the streets alone, even if thereās a masked menace watching from the rooftops.
Heāll probably stress out once he realizes youāve slipped under his radar. Good. Itās what he deserves for acting like he knows you.
ā
āAlright. This is an intervention.ā
āWhat do you mean?ā you reply stiffly.
āYouāre well aware of what I mean,ā Hari says, sitting across from you. āYou and Pav.ā
At the mention of his name, you look away, crossing your arms.
āI wasnāt going to say anything, but itās been one week, and both of you are acting weird, and Iām getting tired of it.ā
āIām not acting weird. Heās acting weird.ā
Hariās dark eyes narrow. The deep frown on his face suddenly reminds you of his father, and you squirm.
āI saw your face last Friday when Pav was talking to Gayatri,ā he states. āItās not too hard to connect the dots.ā
Your jaw clenches. Hari has never bothered to mince words; this subject is no exception, it seems.
āLook.ā Hari leans forward and keeps his voice down. āIām his best friend, so I know everything about him. Pavās had a crush on Gayatri for two years. Heās talked to her a total of three times, and the first two times, he totally botched it.ā
āHe didnāt botch it last Friday,ā you mumble.
āExactly!ā he exclaims, then coughs and lowers his voice even further. āExactly. Do you remember what he was like after he was done talking to her?ā
This conversation is making you more miserable by the minute.
You shrug despondently. āI dunno.ā
āI asked him how it went, and he said it was good.ā
āGood, then.ā
Hari sighs in frustration. āNo, listen to me. You donāt understand how Pav functions. If he still had a crush on her, he wouldnāt have shut up about that conversation for the rest of the day. He wouldāve been floating down the hallway and asking me how to ask her out. But he was almost normal about it.ā
Heās trying to make a point, but it completely eludes you. āWhat are you saying?ā you ask.
āIām saying you have a chance,ā Hari says, ābecause I donāt think he likes Gayatri anymore.ā
Your shoulders tense.
āNo.ā
āYes.ā
āNo,ā you insist, a vague sense of panic rising up from within. āHeās always liked Gayatri.ā
āWell, somethingās changed since this weekend, and itās not Gayatri. In my professional opinion, I think Pavās starting to realize that he likes you.ā
You get up from your seat.
āNo, he doesnāt.ā
āYou two can deny it all you like, but Iām right,ā Hari calls after you. You cringe and hide your face as you hurry out of the cafeteria. āIām right!ā
Chest tight, you push past the stream of students heading in the opposite direction and make a beeline to the library. Itās on the other side of the school, so walking there gives you plenty of distance from Hari and plenty of time for his words to hurtle around at light speed in your head.
You have a chance, because he doesnāt like Gayatri anymore.
Hari doesnāt know everything, you think with gritted teeth. People donāt like Gayatri Singh for two years and then suddenly move on to a nobody theyāve only known for four months. Gayatri is classy and smart and pretty, and she doesnāt have a freakish alter ego who fights Mumbattanās beloved Spider-Man three days a week. Of course Pav still likes her. Youāre not even in the equation, and youāre angry that Hari even brought it up.
Turning the corner, you smack face-first into another body.
āSor ā oh.ā
Pav rubs his forehead as he stares at you, mouth forming different words that are ultimately left unsaid. You grip the straps of your backpack and look away.
āHey!ā he says after a full thirty seconds have passed, putting his hands on his hips. āI thought Hari was helping you with something.ā
āHe wasnāt much help,ā you mumble, stepping to the side.
He seems surprised. āReally?ā
You shake your head. As you try to walk past him to finally enter the library, Pav grasps your shoulder and moves to block your path.
āHow are you doing?ā he asks.
You swallow dryly.
This is the kind of weird you and Hari have noticed this week. In fact, Pav had texted you this exact same question last Friday night, following an unprompted conversation heād initiated just ten minutes before you had snuck back into your bedroom. Youād waited a bit and then replied that you were fine. Just tired. The answer had appeared to satisfy him then, but when you got to school on Monday, he asked you again and it was in a way that sounded like he thought you werenāt doing fine. You had given him the same answer.
Now here he is, asking that question for the third time, and part of you is afraid that he knows.
āFine. Just tired.ā
āI see.ā Pav looks slightly disappointed. āYou should get more sleep.ā
āI know.ā
āIf you ever need to talk about anything, you know you can talk to me, right?ā
Even weirder, you tell yourself desperately, even as his words plunge deep into your soul and make your mind go fuzzy. āOkay,ā you reply, Pavās hands leaving spots of warmth as he draws away. āThanks.ā
He smiles, and all you see is kindness. āNo problem. Thatās what friends are for, right?ā
You didnāt know that the word could mean so much to you and cause so much pain at the same time until now.
āYouāre ā¦ā The words almost make you choke, but you take in a breath and force them out with a firm honesty. āYouāre a good friend, Pav,ā you say, then duck away and rush into the library.
You hate yourself.
ā
Gayatri begins hanging out with the three of you. You donāt see her on a daily basis, as she has her own friend group and a busy modeling schedule, but itās enough that you get to know her a little better. Sheās mostly what you expect ā very warm, very personable and quick-witted. When you follow her on social media, you learn that sheās also an avid meme enthusiast and shares at least five of them on her story every day.
You think that she and Pav have something going on. Hari disagrees.
(āThey just have compatible personalities,ā he says.)
(āWhich makes them dating more likely,ā you say.)
(āPlease. As if Pav would last one day keeping that a secret from us.ā)
Eventually, Gayatri invites you, Pav, and Hari to try out a new Italian restaurant after school. Pav canāt go because of ⦠well, he doesnāt really specify and leaves in a hasty manner, and Hari has tuition classes, so it ends up being only you and Gayatri who board the bus to Lower Mumbattan.
āI want to try their pasta alla Norma,ā she tells you while youāre buried in traffic on the bridge. āHere, look at the menu.ā
You gingerly take her phone and scroll through the appetizers and main dishes. Over time, youāve learned that you can hold drier foods the longest, so you point out the focaccia and Gayatri seems to approve.
āOh, focaccia is sooo good,ā she exclaims. āGood choice.ā
You share a small grin with her. You do like Gayatri, even though you envy her sometimes.
Your thoughts are interrupted by a passengerās scream.
āThe building!ā
A shadow falls across the bridge. When you look towards the front of the bus, the sand around your soul suddenly contracts.
Itās like something from a movie. Slow-motion. A giant building tearing away from the cliffside, blocking out the sky. A collective pause as everyone holds their breath in disbelief.
Then chunks of stone and metal begin to rain down, and the dead silence erupts into chaos.
Gayatriās phone flies out of your hands as the bus lurches forward, a monstrous tremor shooting up from the ground and through your body. You catch yourself on the back of the seat in front of you and push yourself into a standing position. Around you, people are crying and screaming and praying and banging against the windows and throwing themselves against the doors.
Someone shakes your shoulders.
āThe emergency exit,ā Gayatri yells, pointing at the rear window.
Her eyes are wide, panicked, but determined. Trembling, you follow her to the back of the bus.
The handle for the emergency exit is jammed. Both of you jostle it, pull at it, push the window, but it doesnāt budge.
āWe need to break the window,ā you mutter. āWe need to āā
Thereās a devastating crunch behind you.
You and Gayatri whip your heads around, and the mayhem around you increases tenfold as the bus tilts forward and you stare down into the void below.
Gayatri lets out a choked gasp. āBreak the window,ā she tells you, banging her fist against the glass with a renewed vigor. āWe canāt die. I donāt want to die!ā
Your gaze shoots upward towards the roof vent. Clarity hits you like a punch to the gut.
The bus has a ventilation system. You could escape right now ā duck under the seats and turn into a cloud of sand while everyoneās distracted, squeeze through the vent and leave. And even if you didnāt, youād more than likely survive anyway. When the dust settles at the bottom of Mumbattan, you could gather yourself up from in between the twisted metal and debris, from in between the mangled bodies.
Youāre not trapped here. Youāre not going to die.
The bus tilts further, and you glance over at Gayatri. Sheās not crying, but her eyebrows are pinched together, and her breaths are heavy as she continues to hit the window.
You grit your teeth. What are you even thinking?
ā[Y/n], I think āā
āMove,ā you order. Then you shove her and the nearby passengers down, form your arm into a pickaxe, and swing it at the window.
The window shatters just as the bus tips over the edge.
With a gasp, you stretch out to grab the bridge. Your sand finds purchase on a piece of road that juts out, but the weight is too much, and the asphalt crumbles with your arm as the bus begins to plummet down towards the earth.
Thereās a moment when you simply float.
Youāve dived off buildings in Mumbattan many times, and the act of falling, you find, is always the same. There is, first, the decision to jump. After that is the actual jump. But right before you begin to fall, thereās an instant in which gravity forgets your existence. The air wraps around you, and you simply float.
In that very moment, you close your eyes.
Gravity remembers you soon after. When you open your eyes again, the wind rushing past you, you register a small, bright spot of red in the distance.
A web shoots past you and grabs the bus. It jerks to a stop in mid-air. You donāt, so you tumble back into it through the broken window. Grabbing the edge, you stare up at Spider-Man as he dangles from the bridge.
Gayatri shouts your name. You bite your lip and tear your eyes away to meet hers.
āGayatri,ā you manage, afraid of what sheāll say, āI ⦠I āā
āAre you okay?ā she asks you.
You gawk at her. The bus drops another foot, preventing you from answering right away as you hang on for dear life.
āIām all right,ā you tell her once the bus is still again. āAre you okay?ā
āIām not hurt.ā
Good. Thatās good. āIām going to go up,ā you say, āto help Spider-Man. Itās going to be okay.ā
Gayatri frowns and nods.
You disperse into a haze of sand, climbing up the web towards the bridge. Once you reach Spider-Manās hand, you jump to the edge of the hole and reform.
Now itās your turn to be gawked at. ā[Y/n]?ā Spider-Man wheezes, even as he strains to lift the bus up.
āLet me help,ā you demand.
He gestures over his shoulder. āIām fine ā Inspector Singh ā heās down there with a kid āā
Turning your head, you spot Gayatriās father in the middle of the road, a child in his arms while debris slams into the ground around them. Without wasting another second, you fly towards them.
Right as you reach the two, a black and red blur scoops them up and dashes through you. You immediately match their pace and form a veil over them. Pieces of concrete and glass dig into your sand as buildings collapse, but you focus on the bodies beneath you, breathing and alive.
You can see Spider-Man just up ahead. Heās managed to pull himself up onto the bridge.
Before you can call out to him, something smashes onto you from above.
When you break out of your daze, you realize that youāve been buried underneath a chunk of building.
āIs everyone okay?ā you hear someone say in English. You put yourself together as the kid and Inspector Singh answer an affirmative. āHey, are you okay?ā
You realize that the suited guy is talking to you. Vision adjusting to the darkness, you notice that he looks, strangely, like a different version of Spider-Man. āOh,ā you croak, picking out a shard of glass from your back. āYes, Iām okay.ā
āCan you help me lift this, then?ā
āYeah.ā
The two of you work on pushing the rubble out of the way. āIf you werenāt covering us, I dunno if we wouldāve made it,ā Spider-Man Two says. āThanks.ā
You shrug, flustered.
āMiles!ā
Light floods your senses as someone helps push the piece of building up and away from you. Youāre met with a third Spider-Man variant. The eyes are all the same, you realize.
Nearby, Inspector Singh gets up with a grunt. He adjusts his glasses, then smiles slightly in response to all of your questioning glances.
āSir,ā Spider-Man Two says, lifting the child into his arms.
Inspector Singh merely nods. He looks past the four of you, and he quickly stands up. āGayatri,ā he murmurs.
You watch as Gayatri runs into her fatherās arms.
As they talk, the original Spider-Man comes up to stand beside you.
āSo,ā he says, and you flinch even though he makes no move to hurt you. āYouāre the Sand.ā
You shift your feet. āYes.ā
āI had a feeling.ā
āHow?ā
āWeāll need to talk about it later,ā he says, perking up as Gayatri waves the two of you over. āIn any case, Iām glad youāre unhurt after all this. You realize youāre a hero now, right?ā
āIām not a hero,ā you say.
Spider-Man just laughs. He claps a hand on your back as the two of you walk towards Gayatri and Inspector Singh.
āIāve heard that before.ā
ā
Mumbattan is in a state of chaos for the next few hours, as a black hole forms underneath the bridge and a bunch of other Spider-People appear out of nowhere to contain it. Spider-Manās friends go off somewhere, leaving him to help out with damage control and finding survivors. You join him after calling your parents (who are perfectly fine if not slightly hysterical), and it isnāt until after dark that the two of you are able to talk in private.
āWhat did you want to talk about?ā you ask Spider-Man, legs dangling from the roof of a building. You can see the collapsed bridge from here, illuminated by lights as the city continues to work.
Spider-Man jumps onto the parapet and sits down next to you, crisscross style. āSeveral different things,ā he replies. āIt all points back to you, though.ā
Understandable. Well, your connection to Oberoi Industries is severed for sure once your face shows up in the news, so you might as well tell him everything.
So you do. You tell him that youāre a mutant, that your X-gene was only partially activated almost a year ago in a factory explosion. You tell him that Nalin Oberoi sponsored your family to move to Mumbattan so he and his doctor could trigger your mutation fully and use it to record business partners and your fights with Spider-Man. You tell him about the broken contract because you revealed your identity, about the jobs and money that your family will not have anymore, and that you have absolutely no clue what will happen now.
And his reaction is ⦠stunned. Indignant. He asks about Nalin Oberoi several times, but he also asks if you have a safe place to stay. He presses a fist to his mouth in thought, then exhales. You almost worry, having never seen him so still, but when he speaks again, his voice is calm. Ā
āAll right. Well, that explains a lot, at least.ā
āWhat do you mean?ā
āYou didnāt seem comfortable in your own body when we first met,ā he says. He leans back on his hands, hair ruffled by the warm breeze passing through. āLike it wasnāt yours.ā
The fact that he had sensed that so early on doesnāt surprise you anymore. Youāre still not comfortable in this body, not yet. You wonder if you ever will be.
āI donāt know if itās mine anymore.ā
Spider-Man shakes his head harshly. āIt is yours,ā he replies firmly, and you stiffen with surprise when he grabs your hand, the rough fabric warm on your skin. āI got my powers by accident, too, but Iām still me.ā
Your eyes widen. āYou were in an accident too?ā
āYeah ā er, sort of? I got bit by a radioactive spider ā¦ā he slumps forward a bit, āwhich sounds super lame compared to surviving a factory explosion ā not that you getting exploded was cool or anything, because that was extremely not cool!ā
āIt wasnāt. But I guess itās a cooler origin story than a bug bite.ā
You smile. Spider-Man chuckles sheepishly.
The two of you sit quietly, looking out at the night-washed cityscape of Mumbattan. The familiarity of this situation does not escape you; neither does the fact that despite everything, you feel much, much better now than you did then, like a wound thatās finally been cleaned out. A second chance. Maybe you and Mumbattan will be okay.
After a long while, you hear Spider-Man take in a deep breath like heās about to say something.
You wait.
And wait.
Eventually, he hangs his head. āSorry,ā he says. āThis is harder than I thought it would be.ā
āWhat is?ā
āWell, I know your secret identity now.ā He rubs the back of his neck. āI ⦠am considering telling you mine.ā
You blink rapidly, baffled.
āWhat?ā you reply. āYou donāt have to do that.ā
āGiven what I now know about you, and about myself ⦠it might actually be for the best.ā Observing you, he seems almost shy, and his fingers squeeze around your hand just the slightest. (Oh, heās still holding your hand.) āThat is, if youāre okay with me telling you.ā
āYou trust me?ā
āYouāre my friend,ā he says. āOf course I trust you.ā
Thatās a weird thing to say, you think, to someone whoās tried to throw you off a building several times. But logic says nothing of whatever fluffs up in your chest at his words. You donāt have many friends, and trust is hard to come by when youāre a mutant.
āOkay,ā you say.
His eyes crescent as he lets go of you. āGreat,ā he chirps, though heās betrayed by the slightly higher pitch of his voice. He reaches up to hook his thumbs underneath the edge of his mask before pausing. āEr ⦠please donāt freak out, okay?ā
You nod and hold your breath.
ā
āJust for the record,ā Hari announces seriously, his head popping out from behind the giant paper bag of snacks as he catches up to the rest of you, āI donāt care what our school said about you. Youāre totally badass.ā
You canāt help the smile that tugs at your cheeks. āThanks, Hari.ā
āDonāt mention it.ā
āHeās just excited to see the X-Mansion,ā Pav jibes, elbowing Hari with a grin. āSuck-up.ā
āWho wouldnāt be?ā Gayatri says. āTheyāre heroes. And so is [Y/n].ā
āIām not āā You meet Pavās narrowed eyes and correct yourself, straightening your posture as you fix your gaze upon the enormous building just a few meters away. āNot a real hero ⦠yet. But Iāll try.ā
Your parents join the four of you inside the X-Mansion, hauling one too many bags for your dorm room. For a moment, all of you look in awe at the interior, the marble floors, the furniture; you watch mutants your age milling about without cowering or hiding, and you feel ⦠safe.
Hari lets out a gasp and clutches his hair. āNo way. Is that an original photo of the X-Men with the Fantastic Four?!ā
As Gayatri and your parents follow him to the wall where the photo is, you take the chance to turn to Pav. He is already looking at you, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth, and your cheeks warm at the sight.
Without a tip from Spider-Man, you and your parents wouldnāt have known to contact the Institute so early on. A little encouragement from Maya aunty and Gayatriās father went a long way as well.
Of course, you will miss your friends. But maybe that is a blessing in itself, that you have friends to miss, and that they are good ones.
āPav?ā
āYes?ā
The words lie heavy on your tongue. You let them loose with less fear than you would have before. āThank you.ā
āNo need to thank me,ā he replies. His hand brushes yours, and then he gently takes your hand. His eyes skate across your face, and he must find something good, because his shoulders relax and his smile widens. āJust meet me on the right side, okay?ā
āOkay.ā
āAnd ā and remember to call!ā
You laugh. Pav only looks a little bashful before itās overtaken by his usual sunniness.
āYeah, okay.ā
The two of you join everybody else in front of the photo. You look up at the group of heroes on the wall, larger than life within the wooden frame, staring into the camera and at you. Your fingers interlace with Pavitrās and he squeezes in return.
Okay. Thereās some good left in this life for you, after all.
for some reason middle aged comic fans coming on the internet to defend their decision as to why they thought a twelve year old should have died or lived is so funny ššš
I think I said I probably wouldnāt draw any dc stuff anymore but I was looking through my old art and I used to draw Nightwing a lot! I wanted to see how Iād approach drawing him now from memory
Logline: In an effort to appear as harmless celebrities, billionaire Bruce Wayne hires a reality TV crew to document his family members' chaotic lives. (Part 1)
DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION (I WILL MAKE IT LOOK LIKE AN ACCIDENT /J)
Btw (O.C.) means Off-Camera and (O.S.) means Off-Screen. I use (O.C.) for when they're in the room but not visible and (O.S.) when they're not in the room at all, but that's just preference :)
Again, I am working on finding the best way to upload this to AO3, but I can't promise if or when it will happen.
Let me know if you want to see the second episode I've written! If so, those will be parts 3 and 4. Follow "#the waynes script" for updates!