Early mornings were never her favorite, never had been. Mary Jane had always been a night owl and it wasn’t even necessarily by choice; she’d been a chronic insomniac since high school, and that had resulted in her being vastly more productive at night than at any other time. That meshed fine when she’d had more control over setting her own schedule but that was not the case lately. No, nowadays she was expected to report at the UN Tower at seven am, which did not mesh well with her late nights or with her habits of perpetually being ten to fifteen minutes behind no matter what she did. She may look the picture of professionalism, shiny and polished and ready for the day, but inside she was definitely still a solid seventy-five-percent asleep. Coffee would help, and she half-heard what sounded like her order and reached up to snag the coffee from the bar in the cafeteria at the base of the tower.
One sip informed her that this was not in fact her order. No, no, that was definitely actual milk and not oat milk, and she would be regretting not listening more closely later. A quick glance at the cup and MJ was sighing, seeing definitely not her name scrawled in the barista’s now familiar handwriting, another figure also at the bar that MJ would assumed would be the actual person that this drink belonged to.
“…Sorry.” It came with a sigh, followed quickly by a grimace. “I’m dead on my feet, just heard half of the call out. Let me buy you a new one.”
Always? Peter had to hum, thinly, at that. Generous of her. If only he could’ve always been there, always said the right thing, always known what to do, to be what she needed. But that was some half-therapized thing talking, insisting he shoulder responsibilities he couldn’t carry, with all the power he didn’t have. Half - that was generous, too. He’d give it a whole… third, therapized. Yeah. Not that any amount of couch-sitting, counsellor-approved or otherwise, could snuff out the spark that tiger set in his chest. Even now. Apparently. Just the sound of it - how he could tell she was smiling, somehow. MJ was smiling, in some kind of way. Good. The world, on the whole, always seemed a better sort of place when Mary Jane was smiling. Maybe that was just his world, though.
On that note. Battened down, collar up against the drizzle, head cocked to keep the phone dryish, Peter stayed right there on the line as MJ answered, thinking out loud, circling her hot-hearted point. And a glass or two of afternoon wine, he’d guess. She really was feeling this, right to the bone; of course she was, of course she’d come out swinging when the Accords landed, fighting for that better before the dust even settled. Only, nobody frothing and screeching in the comments and the studio crowds - yeah, he’d seen those, the flame wars, the ugly words slung her way, the worst in a career that’d already weathered plenty - knew why. Nobody knew just how completely Mary Jane Watson understood so-called superheroing, how much of that kind of mess she’d survived, personally. And, sometimes, barely. The girl in the spider’s web had grown up to make it big on Broadway, to walk the red carpet at Cannes, to blow minds at the Met Gala, and to be tougher than any of those assholes could begin to imagine. No, they were happy to tear her down for caring too much, too loudly. For being earnest as hell when it was easier, prettier, popular, to give your guts up and wear a thick layer of cynicism like it was the new black. For trying to do something.
She already had. She’d done more than any of them could’ve ever asked. Hopefully Spider-Man wasn’t the only one who knew that.
Peter’s grip had tightened on the phone, his mouth pressing into a tight, crooked line. She’d slowed, her train of thought closing in on some kind of station after that rush-hour run. There was a maybe, two, like a bump in the tracks. Then - he tilted further, eyes wide, phone tight to his cheek. Making sure he heard her right. Because that, that was…
That was far from the biggest ask they’d made of each other. Miles away.
He’d put his face in his free, rain-cold hand, turning away from the call. Just, just for a moment. For a slow, steadyish sigh. Resigned? Relieved? All of the above, and then some. “It’s not,” Pete insisted, abruptly. “It’s not too big. I - I’ll just need…” he peered off, wincing, in the general direction of that class he was pretty late for, and the Doc, who’d be worrying, fairly, that his TA had gone and got smeared across some Manhattan sidewalk. “A few days, yeah. How many is that, exactly? So I’ve got my deadline right.”
As if he had much to pack. He’d - he’d see Aunt May, and Uncle Ben. Sign off with Jonah, and Robbie, and Betty, at The Bugle, and shove his life in a backpack and himself into an economy seat. Drop everything. Not just because MJ had asked. Because she was right. This was an in. A dangerous one, for both of them. But if what Cap’d told him after Berlin still stood, any press ops in Sokovia needed some serious vigilante-adjacent obfuscating. Luthor had just headhunted an A-lister to spotlight the place. Couldn’t mean anything good. That team Rogers had holed up, they’d want somebody on the inside of whatever this was. Should that person be him? Definitely not. Natasha would laugh. Opportunity had kicked the door in, though…
And, MJ had asked.
...
“It’s really big, Pete.” It may not be the biggest ask in their history....no, she could certainly think of a few others that were bigger, most of which she spent much time actively trying to not think of for the fact that it hurt too damn much (three proposals, decision-making concerning starting a family....all of those, definitely bigger, by gross margins). But regardless, this was big in a different way: three years post-divorce with text messages and phone calls serving as their main form of communication, with weeks passing between last digital contact, communication mostly light and easy. This was...heavy, weighing down like the drizzle-turned-downpour outside her window, heavy enough for MJ to be finishing off the wine that was left in the bottle on her bedside table (glass discarded, right from the bottle, because who was she kidding, she was going to empty it).
“It’s really big,” moving across the world to work with your ex-wife big, life changing decisions after just one wine-fueled phone call big, “and -- to be clear, it’s fine if you can’t or --” or if you don’t want to. “No hard feelings. Like I said, big ask.” A big ask in potentially not-big-asking territory. She wasn’t sure what territory they were in, anymore. Confusing, for certain, and she couldn’t help but feel a little lost in the rocky new terrain. Very lost, considering that things between them had always been so...easy, natural, just like breathing. So much had changed, but so much hadn’t. At the end of the day, it appeared that Peter Parker was still the first person she ran to.
It sounded like he was agreeing, and Mary Jane would be lying if she didn’t admit that the sigh that left her, long and slow, was relieved. She could almost feel the invisible weight lifting - not completely removed, but something of a reprieve. “Three days. But that’s my deadline, you can take as much time as you need. No rush, no pressure.” She was under enough pressure as it was, no need to share that vice-grip-feel with anyone else. Crushing pressure, making it hard to breathe, but in her experience she could always breathe a little easier when Peter Parker was around.
“If you’re ... if you’re sure, I can get the ball rolling. Make the phone calls, get it all set up.” It wouldn’t take much. She had learned through her rise to fame that the right pressure applied to the right person typically got Mary Jane her way now that her name was known pretty much universally, even now in her new wild adventure. On her side of things, this would be a small ask by comparison - securing Peter a job would be easy, all things considered. “I’ll get it all set up, on my end. I’ll let you know what I need from you, paperwork wise.” Her mind was already racing away, like the Midtown subway she would take in back in her Broadway days - sketchy and jerky to start, screeching around turns too fast. “I can also make travel arrangements, which I really hope you’ll let me do, once you give me a date that works for you.”
Well, he wouldn’t lie. Really. “Eh,” his head seesawed left, right - like she was right there, to see it. “Friendly-ish?” On the whole, the city was a little kinder, actually. Even Jonah’d spent the last few years spilling most of his ink on bigger problems than the Big Apple’s bug issue. (Though he’d still shell out for a picture. Thankfully.) Spider-Man might be a menace, but he was New York’s. Seemed like the ISA hadn’t counted on that. Still, they’d taken their best shot - a few times, and a couple had even been close. But close only counted in horseshoes and Goblin grenades.
MJ shouldn’t have to worry, anyway. Not that shouldn’t ever stopped her. Peter scoffed, disbelieving; soft, at the edges. All of this was soft, softer than that drizzle turning his marking to mulch. Tickets. At the Gershwin. Once a scraped-for special occasion, and now, now she could flash a Tony or four at the door. That’s how celebrity stuff worked, right? How it seemed to work, from his plus one perspective. The smile he’d settled into, flashing right back to all those long, let-down waits in the cancellation line that hadn’t felt too disappointing at all, not when MJ was tucked into his coat to escape the New York night… that smile, it faltered with her, and fell. Moving? Not permanently. What did that mean? How long? In just a few days? To Sokovia? To - do some kind of work, for Lex Luthor? For the sleazeball who’d managed to convince the world to put him in charge of a super-police force? She was being sent, to do what, Goodwill? For that guy? And she was going?
She was. But the way she said it all, that was a tone Peter knew, like maybe nobody else alive did; the sound of Mary Jane Watson scared, shaken out of the confidence she’d learned to play so well and worked so hard to make real, to hold close as reviews and directors and tabloids and tweets and everybody, just about everybody else, it seemed, tried to tear it away. I might be in a little over my head. His eyes had squeezed shut, brow furrowed, tangled in the heavy-duty cycle of his own thoughts. A full load of them, loud, clanging like pockets full of web cartridges and keys and pens and everything else he’d managed to stop forgetting to shake out before ruining another load of their laundry. Back when their laundry had been a thing he got to do.
But MJ hadn’t called to talk weirdly ancient-feeling history. This was about the future. The very immediate future. Okay. “Yeah, that’s - that’s a turn. A twist. Yep.” Peter scuffed a hand over his face, through his now-nearly dripping hair. “I mean, MJ, you… you’ve gotta know I always figured you could do pretty much anything. If you’re in over your head, you’ll kick until you break the surface. And… swim on from there.” And she’d proved him right, so many times. “But I’ve gotta ask: why this?” Honestly. They could still be honest, yeah? That’s what she’d called for, right? For somebody to be honest with. And he was still that, at least. Peter pressed the phone to his shoulder, swallowing hard. Then got back to the call. To the point. “Why not say no, why not walk, why…” Why not do the safe thing? Like he could talk. He huffed out a sigh, tired, strung skyscraper-high. “What do you see, here?” Like they were reading through an iffy script, sifting for that something. Mary Jane, she’d always had a way for building a character; for becoming somebody who could make it all make sense, no matter how B movie bad or Broadway bombastic. On and offstage, too. For better and worse. Honestly.
...
The small talk hadn’t been why she called, even if it had served of something of a nice distraction from the storm clouds looming over head - literally as well as figuratively, actually, she learned as she glanced out her balcony’s double glass doors to see the rain pouring over Manhattan. Not a good sign, outright fuckin’ ominous. “Really needed a Peter Parker pep talk.” The smile that had started was sad, nostalgic in a way that had her aching under her ribs and gripping her wine glass a little tighter. “Thanks for always coming through with those, tiger.” His questions that followed were valid, ones that had been playing on a loop in her mind since the first round of criticism rolled in like an angry ocean died, since the call came in from Lex Luthor himself. Why? Why, why, why? This wasn’t playing to her strengths, this was...jumping in blind and trying to figure things out as she went while trying not to fumble. Why? Why, why, why --
“I see an in, Pete.” Everything she’d been working for, working towards, had just presented itself and dropped right into her fucking lap. A chance she had to take. “I can be as vocal as I want, use my platform - and I have been,” God, had she ever. Blogs, interviews, anything she could do to get the word out that at the end of the day, our heroes deserve better when all they want is to save the day. “I have been, but it’s...at the end of the day, it’s not doing anything. With this? I could do something.” How could she say no? She couldn’t, even if the circumstances behind her job transfer were...suspicious at best, definitely a little concerning. She’d caught the attention of Lex Luthor, one way or another, probably due to her big fat mouth. She had to take it and run, regardless of what that meant.
“ -- I mean, I could do something but I’m definitely in over my head. This isn’t my world, Pete.” None of it was. Politics and humanitarian efforts did not go side-by-side with acting, but she was learning on the job and doing the damn thing. “Not the UN or...the other one.” The hero world, the one she’d been half-in since Spider-man had saved her from the sidewalk all those years ago. A lifetime ago, it felt like. “But I have to take it. I have to, right? That world, you know the one -- “ he would, even when her thoughts and words were jumbled (with the wine...not helping, decidedly). “I could do something there. After everything that’s been done for everyone, after how many times the day has literally been saved...I have to take the chance, that I can do something. It’s right there, Peter.”
A few beats of silence, and MJ took that time to drain the last of the wine remaining in her glass. “This isn’t my world,” she repeated, exhaling slowly and letting another beat pass. “The UN isn’t yours, but the other one...that one is.” He was part of the reason why she was doing this, after all. Peter Parker and Spider-man had been her open window into the hero world, and she’d seen enough of it through being his friend and his partner. “I was thinking maybe, maybe....it would make sense for me to bring along a photographer, a photojournalist, maybe? I mean, they’d say yes, it wouldn’t take any pushing.” The rain was taptaptaping on her windows, a welcome distraction from the pounding of her stupid heart, loud in her ears in the otherwise quiet apartment. “Someone to help me keep up the social media aspect of all of this, even. It’s - it’s a big ask, and I don’t know if we’re in big ask space right now, but...”
Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism
Like some kind of congressman? Tale as old as time
I wake up screaming from dreaming
One day I'll watch as you're leaving
And life will lose all its meaning
For the last time
It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)
At tea time, everybody agrees
I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror
It must be exhausting, always rooting for the anti-hero
Good. Good was - good. Obviously. If it was true. Why would she lie? A lot of reasons. None malicious, or anything. Just… reasons. Peter was nodding, all the same, stacking up those rain-spackled lab reports, phone shrugged between his shoulder and his listening ear. Good and busy. Busier than usual. Vague of her. Given most of Mary Jane Watson’s life was everywhere, Googleable, trending, whether she liked it or not. (And she hadn’t. Often. Didn’t? Felt weird, to presume anything present-tense about her.) And all of it had a way of appearing, inescapably, in his feed. She was news.
And sure, Peter could probably figure out how to avoid that kind of update. If he wanted. He’d meant to, but… put it off, procrastinating, until he just didn’t have enough of whatever had shoved the idea forward in the first place. Probably for the best. Really. For instance, he certainly would’ve been a little deeper in the dark than he was, at the moment, if he’d actually managed to Mary Jane-proof his algorithms. As it was, yeah, he knew what lately had meant for her. Big things. Different things. Somewhat awkward things, given the state of the world. Except - well, who knew half so much about the damage a little, or a lot, of well-intentioned vigilantism could do? And being a celebrity Goodwill Ambassador wasn’t the same as joining up with the actual Task Force, as endorsing the ISA and everything it was, right, not exactly, but…
God. They’d become so complicated.
If they’d been simple, still - or at least been so good at this that it’d felt simple, at least sometimes, the way it used to - he’d have asked how busy was too busy. Checked in. Found those twisted up knots high up in her shoulders, kept so perfectly in place for the cameras, and kneaded them away. But him and MJ, they were complicated, now. So he followed along, yeah’d and oh’d, paying all his attention. Actually. It showed, in his floundering attempt to salvage fifty-odd lab reports. He’d just reprint them. Kill some more trees or whatever. Real heroic.
“Mm.” That was his answer to home, and how good it was. He could get vague, too. Shaking rain from his hair, Peter shifted his hold on the phone, finishing the last of his somewhat crumpled coffee. Just giving up on those assignments entirely. “Uh, me, I’ve been… busy, yeah. Not new office at the UN busy, which - wow,” he swerved, stumbling around the subject. “Yeah, there’s nothing. Nothing new. Just the friendly, neighbourhood usual. Y’know.” She did. And no surprises there, right? After all, his life, or half of it - little more, little less, he didn’t punch the time - was out there in the headlines too, wearing those tights she knew so well.
As his battered ribs and aching back could attest. He huffed through a sudden tweak as he reached out, helping a battered textbook out of the churned up grass. “So. A few days, huh? I…” Brushing the cracked cover clean, clean-ish, Peter crammed it back into his perhaps beyond-saving bag. And didn’t finish that sentence the way he might’ve planned to, if, in fact, he’d planned anything. “… hear Wicked’s showing at the Gershwin. And it’s great, like, kinda mind-blowing. Fun. So I’m told.” Not that he’d bothered to go, himself, alone, to find out. Wouldn’t be the same. “Sold out months ago, but. Not for you, I bet.” Maybe she’d hear the soft smile that’d snuck onto his face, even as he took a damp seat on the stepping stones. Defying at least a little gravity, for the moment. It was just - good, to talk to her. Yeah. And good was good enough. Because it had to be.
...
Just the friendly neighborhood. Yeah, she did know. Maybe just about better than anyone, really, other than Spider-man himself. “I don’t know, Peter. I’d say the neighborhood was always pretty damn busy, and it always made sure to keep you busy.” Maybe busier than ever, with the state of the the world. That was complicated, and she chose not to dwell on it; it was strange, toeing this line, being technically on the other side of things. Mary Jane wasn’t sure how she felt about it, knew right away she didn’t like it based on the bitter taste in her mouth. Her intentions in working for the UN might be good, but that certainly didn’t change who she answered to at the end of the day and where her office was located. Best not to think about it, push right through, with another healthy glug of wine to wash it away. “Hope the neighborhood’s actually been friendly lately.” Somehow, she doubted it. That was never the case, and she’d seen enough of just how friendly the neighborhood treated their friendly neighborhood Spider-man over the years.
MJ couldn’t help the slow, instinctual smile that spread across her lips as he brought up Wicked and a wave of nostalgia hit her unexpectedly. “Definitely wouldn’t beat the original cast,” which they’d seen, together, all those years ago. Crappy seats, way in the back, but Mary Jane had still been practically vibrating with excitement and had been ecstatic to share something so special with him. They’d seen it a few times since, different casts and tours with absolutely much better seats as ticket prices (and well, Mary Jane’s ability to get better tickets through connections) and incomes shifted. Nothing beat the first time though, a special memory she felt conflicted about recalling now. More wine. More wine would help. “But I’ve heard good things. Very good things. So good that I don’t think even I’d be able to score tickets, much like when I was practically dying to get tickets to Hamilton.” He’d remember that, too.
“Even if I could, I’m not sure I’d have time - the few days are really freakin’ packed. I’m not sure if I’ll even have time to stop in at Katz’s, which is basically a crime.” A pit stop, full to the brim of to-do-lists and inevitably forgettng at least a quarter of the things she needed to do before she left. She’d never been good at to-do lists, always got distracted halfway through and it always managed to bite her in the ass. “I’m actually moving - not permanently,” she hastened to add, frowning at herself a little, “but for work. The UN gig kind of took a hard turn and they want me to move to Sokovia.” Right to the heart of why the Accords had been passed in the first place. “It’s all happening really fast, arrangements are more or less made. I’ll be working under Lex Luthor.” Would he hear it? The hesitation in her voice, almost wavering, practically fucking palpable and thick in her throat? “...I think I might be in a little over my head, Peter.” And there it was - honest, raw, and MJ swallowed down the nerves without slosh of wine. Tried to, anyway. Definitely failed.
And it's killing me, me to say "I'm fine," "I'm fine"
When I really mean, mean to say
You're my all and more
All I know you taught me
You're my all and more
But I need room to breathe
Not often, but not never, Peter had to admit that despite how absolutely, profoundly traumatizing it’d been to sprout a few extra arms, then, you know, gradually turn into a mindless Man-Spider… a couple extra hands might be real convenient. One of those occasions was now. He’d been jogging across the drizzly campus common, dodging students doing the same thing. Only sort of late for Doc Connors’ night class. (Quiz first, today. Past-Peter had put it in his phone, like he did with everything these days. So long as he remembered. And had his phone. And it wasn’t shattered past use, again.) Sipping gingerly at a fresh and much-needed coffee, messenger bag hanging heavy with textbooks, a couple classes’ worth of lab reports clenched under his arm, Peter had precisely enough hand left to check who was calling.
Which, of course, meant he dropped everything. Almost literally.
The reports? Slipped and scattered outward like cards from a wannabe magician’s suit-sleeve. The coffee? Lightly crushed by a rare (really!) twitch of spider-strength. It was his bag that spilled, though, the much-abused, half-done zippers peeling apart with a sudden rip and the heavy slap of textbooks hitting the damp grass, half-churned to mud. Peter stood, papers still fluttering. Took a breath, face upturned to the spattering rain. And answered.
“Hey. Hey, MJ.” Awesome start. Just great. Weeks, since they’d last texted, and months, since they’d actually talked - called, but still - and… yeah, that was the best he had. Spectacular. “How’s - things? Stuff?” Peter bent with a sigh, shaking one of those reports… drier. He winced, but. Not about the homework. “How are you?” Jackpot. Very Jane. Superstar. Blockbuster. Booked and Blessed. All the old nicknames and sweet something-or-others rattled by in the back of his head, loud as South Ferry. Right by, unsaid. Barely, but he bit down. Just to make sure. For both their sakes’.
...
There it was, his voice so clear on the other end of the line and Mary Jane paused in her task of sorting through her mess of clothes once he spoke. She hadn’t really prepared herself appropriately, had just jumped in with wine-tipsy courage and a now-or-never mentality in a way that was very Mary Jane, but perhaps she should’ve taken a moment. A beat, a fucking second. She took it now, holding her breath with a brief press of her eyes shut before exhaling and pushing right on through.
“Stuff is good,” she began, setting the dress that she’d been examining before he’d answered onto her quite-cluttered duvet covered, hanger and all. Keep pile, or what she at least thought was the keep pile. She’d lost track, at this point. Might need to start over. Fuck. “Good, just busy. Always busy, y’know. Busier than usual, lately.” Considering the UN of it all, added to her already-full-plate. At least she wasn’t filming now, on top of it all; a break from Hollywood had been warranted, necessary, with everything she’d been doing lately. Would he know any of that? He used to know everything there was to know about Mary Jane Watson considering he was the first person she told everything to, the first person she went running to when there was something new or exciting. Used to, but that was different now. “Actually in the city for the first time in a while. Just for a few days, but it’s good to be home.”
Clothes sorting job abandoned, MJ reached instead for that glass of wine she’d left on her bedside table. She took a sip from the rim, tucking the phone between her ear and her shoulder for a moment as she reached for the bottle to refresh the glass once she’d drained the remaining wine. “How about you?” The tiger that nearly followed was instinctual, swallowed down with another glug of wine. “How’ve you been, what’ve you been up to?”
2018.
you’re not mine anymore, but i’m still a little bit yours.
It was the third event related to her newest movie premiere for the week - acclaimed by the critics who had been allowed to preview, highly anticipated and very fucking big. Mary Jane Watson was already a renowned household name, known for being the fiery-haired spitfire from Queens that had clawed her way to fame with nothing but grit, determination and sheer fucking talent. Known for being the girl in the spider's web, the woman that Spider-man had saved more than once. But that was complicated now.
Even more complicated was the fact that this was the first series of premieres after the divorce was finalized, the first set of after parties without Peter Parker on her arm. The press had been advised and warned with every threat her publicist could aim their way against bringing up the divorce, though the press did what the press wanted. The suggestion by the publicist team of the movie had suggested that Mary Jane and the hunky leading man beside her on the poster attend all press and movie related events together, both for the sake of the movie and to keep the reporters distracted with a different narrative to focus on.
He had jumped at the opportunity, and she wasn't surprised. Narcissistic or not, she was Mary Jane Watson and this was his first movie break. She had agreed for the sake of going with the current than against it, and thought it might be nice to have a distraction from the elephant in the room.
But he wasn't him. He didn't know from the set of her smile that she was worried or anxious or just done with a conversation. He didn't know any secret hand squeezes or arm grabs that were meant for quiet reassurance, hadn't looked over the details of the event with her to plan exits and ways to sneak away. He complained and huffed at the idea of carrying her clutch for her, or carrying her phone and cigarettes in his pocket for easy access so she wouldn't have to fumble. He wasn't a welcome distraction from the flash of cameras, brighter than the city lights back home, with a warm smile that both grounded her and made her feel like she could take on the world with nothing but his hand in hers. He wasn't fumbling through speaking to the press, answering questions awkwardly or making the reporters laugh - he was all charm, smooth conversations, dazzling and heartbreaking smiles paired with prepared dialogue that had been pre-prepared by his publicist. He was jumping over her words, demanding half of he spotlight rather than letting her soak it all in. He was on time, devastatingly handsome without a hair out of place.
He wasn't Peter. He wasn't her stability, her biggest cheerleader at her side, just beaming and happy to be there with her. He wasn't Peter, the man that had been there for it all - from the screaming matches overheard through open windows with harsh words and insults wafting inside the Parker household with the warm summer breeze, to struggling to make ends meet with no auditions on the horizon and being known as nothing more than another singing waitress at Ellen's, to first off-off-off Broadway shows and horrible press and even worse critics to finally getting her big break. Peter had been there for every step of it, every rise and fall, every harsh criticism she'd cried over and every glowing review that had made her heart soar. Peter was the man that had once been the boy that had shared his birthday cake with her when her father couldn't be fucked to make one and her mother was working three jobs, letting her blow out her own set of candles to wish herself away from the hell she called childhood. He was Peter Parker, the love of her life even though she'd asked to end that.
It was the third premiere party this week, and she couldn't remember much of the first two. She couldn't stand the eye candy on her arm, despite the perfectly manicured smile on red glossy lips (with a matching lipstick stain left purposefully on his collar).
The glass of champagne in her hand was not her first, or third, or fifth. She didn't want to remember this premiere, either.
Packing was a process, and never one that she’d been particularly good at; moving was agonizing, and Mary Jane was always sorely tempted to hit the easy button and just rebuy what she needed upon arrival to her new home away from home (because the penthouse in New York would always be home, even if she wasn’t always there). She was more or less doing just that, just packing essentials with professional packers and movers and everything else in-between coming within the next few days to help do the job right....but that didn’t help her now, not when Miss-Type-A had her entire closet emptied onto her bedroom floor and the mess was worse now than when she’d started.
But it was still progress, even if it looked like the oppposite. The big move was looming, she was still trying to wrap her head around it all, and there were still a few loose threads she had to snip or tighten up before she made the move to Sokovia. Working on any of those would be undeniably more useful than sorting through clothes, but she was a little too deep into a bottle of red for anything work-related, even when her head was still a-buzz with all things work-related-move. The wine had been necessary to try to quiet some of that, and for a little liquid courage to dial a much-familiar-but-long-since-dialed phone number.
Hesitation for that would explain the closet situation, too. And she almost hung up before the ringing in her ear ended and she was forced to push forward in the decision to call: “Hey, Pete.”
mary jane + working for the un, isa standpoint and views re: vigilatism and heroism, and the overall perceived public opinion of all of the above.
Mary Jane became known as the girl in the spider’s web after a very public rescue by Spider-man himself, after the actess had found herself abducted by the Green Goblin and flung from the Empire State Building like a rag doll. Her career had just started blooming, Mary Jane Watson becoming a name known around New York through her Broadway career and elsewhere as she began to land TV appearances, though this particular moment brought more attention to her name. Who was this girl, that had been kidnapped by the Green Goblin and saved by Spider-man? Rumors began to circulate, linking Mary Jane to Spider-man romantically despite her public and ongoing relationship with Peter Parker at the time. Regardless of rumors and tabloids and gossip, Mary Jane made sure that one point was clear: she not only supported Spider-man, but she believed in him.
That viewpoint remained throughout the years, and Mary Jane took to her very public and widely-known platform after the Sokovia Accords with a series of vlog entries on YouTube and whatever interviews came her way on the topic. The tragedy of Sokovia was undeniable, though her stance on the Accords was conflicted: the idea was understandable, though the application wouldn’t work for the heroes trying to do their part to save the world. Her stance on this became even more cemented as she continued to make videos and statements, especially as the ISA was formed and began to target once-beloved heroes as criminals.
Working with the UN was hardly one of Mary Jane’s big starry-eyed-dreams, though it was an opportunity that fell into her lap that she couldn’t refuse. A docueseries she’d done for Netflix had landed her several UN interviews, which earned Mary Jane the title of Goodwill Ambassador and a job with the UN. Mary Jane Watson the philanthropist was not an expected career shift, and it was met with mixed reviews ranging from insisting she was tone deaf and throwing her money around to fans cheering her every move. The UN job was the first rung of the very tall ladder that would lead to change, and a foot in the right direction was a solid first step even if the ladder was wobbly
Three years into working alongside the UN and continuing to write and speak on her very pro-hero stance on whatever platform she could wedge herself onto, Mary Jane had garnered the attention of Lex Luthor - dangerous, suspicious, though she took it and ran. She had opinions and problems with the ISA, and a very big voice and an even bigger platform to make herself be heard and her intentions and hopes to do so were driving her.
Change was hard, but it was even harder with the world watching her every move and an army of online personalities lined up to crucify her. The word hypocrite was certainly being thrown around directly next to her name, with all of her history being dragged back out into the open - Mary Jane, the girl in the spider’s web, the pro-hero activist had sold out to the ISA.
Everyone’s a critic, and she knew that well. This time, it just stung a little more.
IS YOUR CHARACTER’S IDENTITY SECRET OR PUBLIC? Mary Jane Watson is a household name and safe to say, *very* well known.
IF SECRET, OR YOUR CHARACTER IS A CIVILIAN, DO THEY HAVE A CIVILIAN OCCUPATION? Mary Jane has recently secured a job working for the UN, serving under Lex Luthor, after gaining attention for her newest project: a docu-series focusing on humanitarian efforts, which brought her to Sokovia in the first place.
DESCRIBE SIX TRAITS (3 positive, 3 negative) YOUR CHARACTER HAS AND HOW THESE AFFECT THEM:
+ Passionate: Anyone that meets Mary Jane knows that she has passion, as it’s clear within the first five minutes of talking to her. She’s passionate about everything: coffee preferences, movies vs. books debates, and in particular, Broadway shows. It goes deeper than that, though, and that becomes clear in knowing her better. Mary Jane practically bleeds for things that she believes in. She gives 110% into everything she does, and it shows.
+ Adaptable: Mary Jane grew up in an ever-changing environment, and it turned her into a person that can roll with the punches. She’s able to adapt to situations quickly, and is able to think on her feet. She can stay relatively unphased with change and adapt accordingly.
+ Charismatic: Mary Jane is a people person. She spent so much of her childhood and adolescence moving around that she had to learn how to socialize quickly, and it made Mary Jane into a social butterfly. She knows how to talk to people, knows how to make small talk and easily does the back-and-forth with just about anyone.
- Hot-headed: There is no way around it: Mary Jane Watson has a temper. She goes from 0 to 100 in the blink of an eye, and sometimes struggles coming back down to 0. It’s not easy to light the flame under her and set her alight, and it’s something she’s been working on since childhood. Even on the rare occasions where she does manage to keep a lid of the explosions, her facial expressions give it all away.
- Commitment-phobic / flighty: Mary Jane doesn’t like to stick to one thing or one place for long, and sometimes has trouble sticking to things. While she gives 100% in passion, sometimes it’s a solid 60% in commitment. She dropped out of college, almost dropped out of high school a few times before that, and never signs more than a six months lease. Most of her romantic relationships have ended poorly because Mary Jane never knows what Mary Jane wants, and she starts to feel claustrophobic when things get tough. This is more on a personal level. Professionally, she sticks to her guns a little more.
- Selfish: Mary Jane is always looking out for Mary Jane. She’s trying to do better, but her bottom instinct is always to do what’s best for herself.
POWERS AND/OR ABILITIES: Mary Jane is very human, and possesses no super-human abilities. However, she’s famous with an extraordinary social media following! (if only that were a super power)
MJ is charismatic and highly organized, and has a leadership quality to her. She enjoys organization and administrative-type tasks, and is a go-getter to get shit done.
WEAKNESSES: Again, MJ is definitely human. I would say her strongest weaknesses are her fear of commitment and her tendencies to be selfish, as this only gets in her own way of what she wants. Mary Jane is also a chronic over-thinker, and can think herself into a box at times.
IC PORTION; DETAILS —
WHAT BROUGHT YOUR CHARACTER TO SOKOVIA? Work. Mary Jane Watson is a household name at this point, though she’s taken a break from acting after the last movie in her latest saga has been released. Mary Jane has shifted her focus from Mary Jane Watson Superstar to Mary Jane Watson Social Justice Warrior. What does that look like, exactly? She’s been making videos about the state of the world, a docu-series that started on YouTube and has since been swooped up by Netflix. This has brought her to Sokovia, and more specifically, to the UN: she caught the UN’s attention, and she’s found herself working under Lex Luthor directly.
DID THEY SIGN THE ACCORDS? WHY OR WHY NOT? Not applicable.
PROVIDE 3-5 HEADCANONS RELATED TO YOUR CHARACTER:
MJ is a chain smoker. She’s tried to quit, though those have only ever been passive attempts at best. She’s tried the gum, the patches, but none of it is really the same.
MJ blogs, mostly on her YouTube channel. She’s recently gotten herself a TikTok She’s verified on her social media platforms, and has a pretty big following.
MJ lives in high heels and generally dresses nicely. She has a very firm belief that first impressions matter most but *all* impressions matter. She always wants to look like hell on wheels, even if it’s impractical at times.
She’s obsessed with trivia games and trivia-type TV shows. Wheel of Fortune is absolutely her favorite. She’s a chronic insomniac and these are her favorite type of shows to keep on while she’s half asleep on the couch.
Mary Jane is obsessed with crystals, and has a crystal for every possible use you can imagine. Got a headache? Have a crystal. Can’t sleep? Have a crystal. Bad dreams? Here, have a crystal.
CHARACTER BIO —
Mary Jane was the second born child to Madeline and Phillip Watson, the first being her older sister Gayle. Her father was a professor, though changed jobs often, resulting in multiple moves throughout Mary Jane's childhood. Her father wanted to be a writer, not a professor, though his books never succeeded. This led to anger that was often taken out on his family, usually while drunk. Mary Jane bounced around a lot as a result, her mother moving the kids around to try to protect them from their father and often with Mary Jane’s Aunt Anna in Queens.
The frequent moves caused Mary Jane to have a rather extroverted and fun-loving personality, a way to try to get noticed and make friends quickly. She knew she would never be in one place for long, so she tried to remain care-free. She never allowed herself to get too close, because she knew it would only be so long before she would be moving again. It was easier to have a lot of people she barely knew that were fun to be around than to have a few close friends she would have to say goodbye to.
She was fifteen when her mother got sick, and things went downhill quickly. Mary Jane watched her mother wither away before her eyes, and vowed in that moment to never take life for granted and grab it by the horns. After her mother passed, Mary Jane refused to move back in with her alcoholic father. Part of her blamed him for robbing Mary Jane and her sister of quality years with their mother, and memories of the abuse were still fresh. Instead, she went back to the home where she’d always been the happiest - Mary Jane moved in with her Aunt Anna in Queens, officially and permanently.
Her life of the party attitude and fun/over-the-top personality quickly gained her friends in school, though Mary Jane still had trouble letting people in. she knew she wouldn’t be moving again this time, but it was somehow easier for her to have her walls up. People liked her, she liked them, and she told herself that was enough. It wasn’t, really, though it was all she knew how to do. Letting anyone in was scary, and it was easier to *not* and keep herself safe. Mary Jane was the life of the party, the popularity queen, but she really was a lot lonelier than she gave on.
Mary Jane was accepted into NYU’s musical theatre program at Tisch after high school ended. She had the lights of Broadway sparkling in her eyes, and starred in many of their productions. However, she learned that in the real world, auditions were hard to secure and she found obtaining roles was even more difficult. She’d been praised so heavily in high school and during her time at Tisch that this was a harsh slap to the face, though she didn’t give up. She worked at Ellen’s Starlight Diner while in school, ended up dropping out of college in her second year to focus full-time on her acting career, though really she just found herself working more shifts at the diner.
She got a few big breaks, real Broadway shows, though initial reviews were not what she’d dreamed of. She still pushed her nose to the grind, refused to give up on what she’d dreamed of since she was a little girl, and in the end it would pay off: she was cast in a few more shows, a few more tours, and before she knew it she had a *real* legit agent and was getting cast in bigger roles on Broadway and being pulled in for TV show pilots.
In a blink (really, a few years time), her name and face was plastered all over the city she called home when she’d landed her first movie franchise, and that was when Mary Jane Watson took off. Her career skyrocketed, agents and producers practically breaking in her door to get her to look at a script. It was everything she’d ever wanted, everything she’d ever dreamed of, but even then she wanted more.
Not more in term of fame, but more in what she could *do.* Being the face of charity organizations was one thing, but actually being involved was another. Throwing her money at things was one way to help, but that felt shallow to the surface and Mary Jane wanted more. She began to *get* involved, started blogging on serious issues and traveling. A docu-series began on YouTube before being picked up and funded by Netflix, and Mary Jane donated all of her salary (and then some) to the causes she was helping bring attention to. It felt right, felt *good* and before long she’d caught the UN’s attention. She’d been contacted a few times, had used their strings and resources when available. Mary Jane had temporarily relocated to Sokovia on the last leg of her series, and before long she was being offered a job at their new, shiny location in Sokovia.
Be the change you see in the world. She didn’t agree with the ISA or with the UN in so many ways, but there was no better way to help push for change than be involved in it herself and use her platform and voice for good. A position at the UN would only help her do just that, even if she wasn’t exactly thrilled to be working under Lex Luthor and bringing another celebrity name to the UN in Sokovia.
