Stiles groaned and took a very long swig from his travel coffee mug as he hitched his messenger bag up higher on his shoulder. It was barely eight in the morning, and consequently, he could barely keep his eyes open. He was a grad student for fuck’s sake, and it was understood that in order to make up for the shitty stipend and the whole working-around-the-clock thing, he got to sleep in until 10. At least. After all, if he was up until 3 working, it was only fair. But noooo, his advisor—fuck you, Finstock—had insisted on an early meeting today.
He passed the bus stop and realized that at least he was lucky in that he lived close enough to campus that he could walk instead of dealing with public transportation at rush hour. Small condolences, really, though.
He yawned and accidentally bumped into someone walking past him. Stiles tried to apologize, but the word got stuck in his throat when he opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of the person he’d nearly knocked over. He was about Stiles’ height but bigger, all broad shoulders and muscles capped off by really great hair and an unfairly attractive face. “Uh.”
The guy gave him a curt little nod and neatly sidestepped him, continuing on his way. Stiles snuck a look over his shoulder, and yep, the rear view in those tight slacks was pretty good, too. The guy stopped at the bus stop, leaning against the sign, and Stiles sighed. It was a dreamy sigh, even he could admit that.
He had a feeling he was going to become a morning person.
so I’ve always sort of liked the idea that within the communion of saints there the Heavy Hitters, the Career Saints who are invoked widely and in situations of grave need—I’m talking your Catherines and Francises and Theresas, the Twelve Disciples and Michael; the Big Time Major League saints who intercede on behalf of so many, and so are always in conversation with the divine, case managers for the sick and dying and hurting and faithful of the world.
but that also means that there’s a bunch of saints hanging around who are just—minor holy women, lesser martyrs, incidental virgins, doctors of the church who never managed to find a publisher. They’re not prayed to very often, and rarely called on to manage the difficult cases; they have a lot of free time.
so what do you do, if you’re a saint with some free time on your hands? You answer all the not-quite-prayers, the “jesus, don’t turn red don’t turn red’ muttered by cab drivers and the “christ, can you just try it to see this from my point of view?” spat out by a furious girlfriend and all the “oh god please let me make this meeting in time” “please don’t let me fail” “I’m so tired I hope I can get home”
or maybe I just like the idea that every time you mutter “god, let me be okay” there’s some girl killed in 9th century for refusing to marry who falls into step beside you—and though no book or chronicle or living person remembers her name, she squints up at you and says with holy authority, “yeah, you’re going to be fine.”
I only get to remind y’all once a year, and by golly am I
going to remind you
ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
This was actually supposed to be paired with the comic I
made last year as a kind of “then and now” regarding how Gakushuu reacts to his
father’s birthday, but I ran out of time, so I shelved the idea for a whole
year. I’m glad though! I knew that I would have to start much earlier than last
year if I wanted to color this the way I wanted to, so that’s what I did! Not to mention, I’ve
gotten much better at coloring since then!
I was really surprised when I saw that Studio Lerche gave
younger Gakuho brighter, more vibrant hair! I think
they chose a beautiful color though. It reminds me of autumn leaves. It made me think that maybe Gakushuu’s hair
was noticeably brighter when he was a young child, so I made his hair honey-colored rather than the deeper strawberry blonde I usually give him.
the fact that they kissed, they actually kissed, already got her head in the clouds
and she has to stay focused, getting involved with peter would only stress her out
because a) he would be her boyfriend and michelle has no idea how to even handle that term
and b) because he’s in danger every day of his life
and if something happened she would lose it
so her solution? avoid him
it works pretty well at first
she sits in the back corner of the library at lunch and decides to re-read all of the books by Jane Austen
she starts with pride and prejudice, her personal favorite
she’s reading about darcy listing his overdramatic qualities for a wife when ned sticks his head around the corner of the shelves
michelle doesn’t even flinch, just puts her finger where she is on the page and glances up
“clearly, you’ve never been in a library before,” she whispers, and nods her head to the sign that clearly says talking is prohibited
“whatcha reading?” ned doesn’t lower his tone at all
michelle holds up the book in front of her face so ned could read the title, and when she lowers it, he’s right in front of her
“jesus ned, what do you want?”
“peter’s a mess”
she gulps, but that’s not her problem…because they aren’t a specific…thing…relationship…label…whatever
“well you’re the chair guy, figure it out”
“but you’re the girl” he leans back on his hands, giving her the “i know more than you” look.
“great observation, yes ned, i am a girl”
“no no no,” he laughs. “you’re the girl. the girl the superhero falls for, the girl who keeps him sane, haven’t you seen any superhero movies? DC universe? batman?”
“superman is better” she turns the page of the book
ned coughs, “you’re not denying that you’re his girl.”
“ned!” she slams the book down. “i’m not his anything!” she doesn’t ask if he knows about the kiss, because knowing peter he probably called ned in a frantic state right after it happened. the closest person michelle ever had to talk to about boys was Liz, and well, that would be awkward now.
“just talk to him tomorrow, he’s not even here today.”
that causes the flight or fight mode to activate inside her, “why? did something happen?”
“okay, peter ran into some guys last night. the ones from the bank robbery? they beat him up pretty bad, but he’s fine, he just needs a day”
“why didn’t he tell me?” she’s calming down because yes he’ll be okay, but still, he’s hurt, and he didn’t tell her
ned stares at her again, this time with the “i know you’re not stupid” look
“yeah, i get it”
michelle can’t focus the rest of the day. she’s sitting in class, staring at the clock, the only thing on her mind is Peter. Peter is hurt, and he didn’t tell her, and it’s all her fault.
The second the bell rings, Michelle pushes her way out the front door of the school, and when Flash whistles at her, she doesn’t hesitate to push him into a bush
michelle knows the way to peter’s building by heart, and she’s panicking thinking he won’t want to buzz her in but then someone is leaving and they’re kind enough to hold the main door open for her
by the time she gets to his front door, she’s nearly in tears and she uses both her fists to hit the door
“may-?” Peter swings the door open, and his eyes widen when he sees her. “MJ? what’s wrong?”
“Are you okay?” she asks frantically. “Ned told me-” she stops when she realizes she’s in the hallway.
Peter has a bandage on his arm and some pretty nasty cuts on his face, but otherwise he looks healthy.
“i’m fine-are you crying?” he grabs her arm to pull her inside, shutting the door.
“what? no-i’m not…crying,” she wipes her eyes with her jacket sleeve. “just…the wind.”
“you broke the promise,” she looks at him, her arms crossed over her, as though she is protecting herself from getting hurt.
“you promised you’d always tell me you were okay and you didn’t-”
“we haven’t talked in a week!”
“that’s not my fault!”
but it is, and she knows it. it’s her fault. she’s the one that shut off her phone, that moved lunch tables before going to the library, that hid in the bathroom until peter and ned left their lockers. it’s her fault.
peter takes a step towards her, and michelle finds herself biting her lip to keep from crying but then he’s hugging her and she breaks down.
and he doesn’t run, he just holds her tighter, which makes her cry more.
neither of them are sure how long they’re standing there, but eventually michelle pulls away from him, “no…i gotta go.”
peter takes a step back. “MJ, stop this.”
“stop what?” she wipes her eyes again and goes to pick up her backpack, but peter steps in front of her, blocking her. “peter-”
she hates this. this isn’t like her. she used to make fun of him and call him a nerd and a loser and then suddenly he’s…he’s peter. and she’s falling fast and she doesn’t know if she’ll survive if she hits the ground.
“yes you can,” peter grabs her hand and places it on his heart. “i’m fucking terrified too okay? i am, and not just because i put on the suit and face bad guys and fight crimes but because of what we’re feeling.”
“i don’t-” but peter shakes his head.
“don’t bullshit me. you feel it too, i may be a loser but i’m not blind,” he smiles, wiping one of her tears with his thumb.
she thinks about it for a minute, and she knows falling is terrifying but he hasn’t left yet. she and peter came together in a weird way, from throwing paper balls at each other’s head in 5th grade to michelle pushing him off the benches in 8th to being AP bio partners in 11th to…whatever this is.
and through all of that, he hasn’t left. even with spiderman taking up all his time, he’s right here.
“i’m so scared,” she whispers. “i’m scared of falling.”
peter pulls her into his arms again, “i already got you MJ, i always have.”
and when she’s in his arms, Michelle realizes that he’s right.
and not only that, but also that this between them, whatever they end up labeling it as, goes both ways.
here’s a Megatron poster design thingy I made for my AP Art II teacher!! :0 in class he’d call me Megatron every now and again and it pretty much just kinda became my nickname lol. Sometimes we’d talk about Star Wars and Transformers (with what very little knowledge of G1 I have) and idk I just had a lot of fun in that class and wanted to make something to thank him!!
there’s a lot of design mistakes here since, admittedly, this was my first time drawing literally all of these guys and the background probably could’ve been better (I had to rush to get it printed in time yikes) but other than that I’m really pleased with the way this came out!! and my teacher really liked it too aaaa I’m so happy!!
This was completely inspired by Sweet Creature and I cannot be held accountable for any emotions that you feel while reading this. Enjoy! xo
The sound of the alarm clock is the first thing he hears when we open his eyes.
He leans over to shut it off, then sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. 8:00 A.M. the clock reads. He has to be at an interview by 9:30. He looks over his shoulder at you, wrapped up in the warm cotton sheets, wearing his favorite Rolling Stones t-shirt with a million holes in it. Running his hands down your back, he wishes he could just lay with you instead. But he has a job, a job that he loves very much. However, he loved you more.
You woke up to an empty bed, almost used to the feeling at this point. Turning over you feel how cold his side is, figuring he must have left hours ago. You knew he had responsibilities, but you wished he could just lay with you instead. You reach for your phone, the photo of the two of you on your lockscreen shining brightly, you click on his number. When he doesn’t answer you decide to get up finally and take a shower. Looking at your lockscreen one more time, the two of you with wide smiles and crinkled eyes. All you could think was that you loved him.