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On nights like these, Peter hates having enhanced senses.
His spider-sense has been whining like a broken alarm all day. Now, when Peter is standing between a drug dealer and his snarling hyena daemon, and a woman and her tabby daemon, he feels like he’s choking. The cramped fire escape isn’t big enough for this many bodies.
The dealer stabs a finger at Peter. “Who the fuck do you even think you are?”
Peter tries to sound confident, like the stench of sweat and weed isn’t getting to him. “Really? Don’t you watch the news? I don’t wear the suit because it’s comfy, you know.”
Behind him, leant against the railing, the woman takes a drag of her cigarette. “I already called the cops, asshole. I know you’re breaking probation.”
The hyena daemon growls. The woman’s daemon, an orange tabby cat, hisses back. Peter desperately hopes they don’t start fighting. Since Rue can’t come out into the open, he has to deal with daemon fights himself, and that always leaves everyone involved feeling sick and vulnerable.
“And what do you think the cops are gonna say,” says the dealer, “about you being high around your baby?”
“Wait,” Peter says, thoughts screeching to a halt. “What baby?”
He hears a gurling laugh from the landing below. He glances down. Sees a baby leaning dangerously over the railing, her hand grasping at nothing, at the same time as the drug dealer pulls a gun out of his waistband.
Rue dives out of his collar and shifts into a lynx. Her intense focus on the baby thrums between their bond, like background noise. Peter quickly disarms the drug dealer and webs him against the side of the building.
He glances down. Rue has a mouthful of the baby’s romper, keeping her from toppling over the side and onto the cement five storeys below.
The woman takes another drag of her cigarette, studying Peter with glazed eyes. “Huh. Guess you really are young.” She shrugs and turns to climb back into her apartment.
Peter jumps onto the landing below, and scoops up the baby. He presses his nose into her downy hair, trying to slow his heartbeat, trying not to think about how small and vulnerable she feels in his arms.
Rue shifts into a jumping spider and crawls under his collar. He can feel her twitching against his neck, just as worked up as he is.
Rue never comes out when he’s Spider-Man. Not like this. Not around other people.
She prefers to stay in constant contact with him. There isn’t much distance between the landings, but even that had been the farthest they had been apart in some time. Their bond aches like an atrophied muscle.
When the police finally arrive, Peter hands the baby to the first officer that doesn’t set off his already-rattled spider-sense. He makes sure she will be looked after, gives them a quick statement, and then climbs back out the window and into the city.
No matter how long he spends swinging through the streets, his skin doesn’t stop itching. His heart rate doesn’t slow. And his spider-sense never stops screaming.
Posted 5 hours ago
Photo of Spiderman’s never-before-seen daemon
/r/vigilantes
[Image: A fire escape thinly illuminated by street lights. Several figures are jammed together on the sixth floor. On the landing below, a toddler and a lynx daemon are perilously close to the edge.]
1.1k comments
finchcollector 277 points
another night, another fake photo of a vigilante’s daemon
b3ginning 15 points
What was this even taken on, a potato?
muffinlance 3 points
Still better than the time someone uploaded a photo of a random pigeon and claimed it was his daemon
continue this thread →
SidekickMan03 60 points
* it’s spelt Spider-Man
and this is so obviously fake. there’s a bunch of people on that fire escape, the daemon must belong to one of them
guardianrex
Since when did the spider guy have an official spelling/name??
f_fastestmanalive
Yeah, did Spiderman tell you himself op?
The next morning, Ned and Pambe are waiting for them at the corner. Ned is typing something rapid-fire on his phone. Pambe ambles over and snuffles up at Peter, looking for Rue.
He pulls the sleeve of his large hoodie to reveal Rue—a brown garter snake—coiled around his wrist. Pambe grunts, though Peter’s not sure if that means she’s glad to see Rue is unharmed or upset that Rue isn’t feeling up to greeting her this morning.
“Sorry,” Peter tells Pambe. “It’s another quiet day today.”
Rue’s been having a lot of quiet days recently. But then, so has Peter.
“It’s fine,” Pambe says. “We saw what happened last night.”
“Peter,” Ned says, finally noticing them. He pockets his phone and scans Peter for injuries. He’s gotten remarkably fast at that. Just last week he had been able to spot Peter’s injuries from the other side of the oval. “You’re okay, right?”
“‘Course.” He lets him see Rue, still curled stubbornly around his wrist, before pulling his sleeve up to hide her.
“Okay, don’t freak out,” Ned says, “but r/vigilantes saw what happened.”
“I hate that thread,” Peter grumbles. “I’m not even a vigilante, I’m a superhero.” Then Ned’s comment catches up to him, and he almost trips over his own feet. “Wait, what?”
Ned pulls Peter to the side, out of the way of oncoming pedestrians. He lowers his voice. “Someone snapped a photo.”
“What?”
“It’s okay,” Ned says quickly. “It was blurry. No one believes it’s really your daemon.”
Peter clamps a hand over Rue, still concealed by his sleeve. It’s suddenly hard to breathe.
There’s a reason Rue stays small and inconspicuous. When he was younger, he always thought she would settle into something large and strong, like a saint bernard. Now, though, that would ruin them.
Rue is his soul. His identity. If anyone connected Spider-Man’s unsettled daemon to seventeen year old Peter Parker’s unsettled daemon, then …
“Peter!” Ned’s hands clamp down on his shoulder. Peter flinches and almost tumbles into the street, Ned’s hands the only thing keeping him upright. “Peter, you need to calm down.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. Focuses on breathing. Focuses on Ned’s warm and steady hands against his shoulders.
“You gotta trust me, dude,” Ned says. “You think I’d let reddit out Rue like that? I’m keeping an eye on everything. If anything more incriminating gets leaked, I’ll take down all of reddit.”
Peter laughs hoarsely. “I’m pretty sure crashing reddit is just going to attract more attention.”
“To me, maybe. Not to you.”
He scrubs a hand through his hair, feeling lightheaded. He hadn’t gotten any sleep last night, and it’s catching up to him.
“No one believes it,” Ned continues. “Really, dude. I promise. Everyone thinks the photo is either a fake or the lynx was just someone else’s daemon. Not Spidey’s.”
“Right,” Peter says. “Thanks, man.”
“Don’t mention it.” Ned knocks their shoulders together, smiling knowingly. “I liked the photo, though. Rue looked a lot like Jasper. That was her first choice, huh?”
Rue squirms inside his sleeve. Her head pops out and she hisses at Ned. “It was the first thing I thought of!”
Pambe laughs. “I knew you liked him.”
Rue splutters, and Pambe laughs louder, and Peter watches in amazement. He wasn’t expecting Rue to slither out of his sleeve today, let alone talk to anyone. But then again, Pambe has always been great at coaxing Rue out of her shell.
Pambe trots between them as they walk to school. When they were younger, she would walk behind them, shifting into larger and more imaginative things. A tiger, a gypsy horse, a komodo dragon—whatever amazing animal Ned could dream up.
Rue didn’t experiment as often as Pambe. She preferred more comfortable and familiar forms, like an otter or red panda. (A saint bernard was always her favourite. When they were very young, people always said that Rue would settle first. No one had known how wrong that prediction would be.)
Pambe settled into a wombat a few weeks before Ben died. It’s a selfish thought, but Peter can’t help but wonder if she sensed that Rue would need something large and soft to hold onto.
“Is that what you were doing this morning?” Peter asks, fingers slipping under his sleeve to brush against Rue’s scales. “Hacking reddit just to see if you could?”
“No,” Ned says.
“We hacked into tumblr instead,” Pambe says.
“Ned!” Peter hisses.
He raises his hands defensively. “I had to, dude! There were some blogs coming up with some dangerous theories. And it’s not like tumblr is especially hard to hack into. That website’s coding is garbage.”
Peter stops in the middle of the footpath. “Dangerous theories?”
Ned winces. “Don’t freak out again, okay?”
“Don’t freak out? Ned! Do people know about Rue or not?”
“No, they don’t,” Ned says quickly, cutting across Peter’s panicked thoughts. “But … well, some people were suggesting that your daemon hasn’t settled yet.”
His stomach sinks. It feels like Ned just shoved him off a tall cliff and he’s falling through the air, waiting to hit the ground. “What?”
“Most people think your daemon is just a spider,” Ned says, trying to sound reassuring. Peter does not feel reassured. “I’ve been working to boost all the other theories. And worse comes to worse, I’ll work some magic and make people think that it’s a crack theory. Like ‘do the butts match.’”
“But Ned,” Peter says balefully, “the butts do match.”
Ned pats him on the arm. “I know, dude. I know.”
Terrance Miller had been the last junior at Midtown High with an unsettled daemon.
There are still five sophomores and twenty-seven freshmen whose daemons haven’t settled. Peter is the only senior. And now, with everyone congratulating Terry on finally settling, that spotlight feels brighter than ever. Rue is still hidden beneath his sleeve, curled tight enough to cut off his circulation, but Peter feels stripped bare.
“It’s okay, dude,” Ned tries. Pambe is under the table. She had been upset when Rue refused to come out and cuddle at the start of lunch, though she had tried not to show it.
Peter stabs at his bland cafeteria mac and cheese. “Everyone’s talking about Terry, aren’t they?”
Ned hesitates, so Peter knows the answer is yes. Everyone is probably talking about him, too.
“Well,” Ned says, “his daemon settled into something water-bound. That’s pretty rare.”
“As rare as a seventeen year old without a settled daemon?”
“Come on, man,” Ned says, soft and kind in that way that always gets to Peter. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a race, right?”
Peter sighs. That’s what May always says too. It never makes him feel any less like a freak, though.
“I know, man. Thanks.”
MJ slams her books down next to Peter, and he startles, almost falling off the bench.
“It’s ugly,” she declares.
Peter blinks at her. “W-what?”
“Terry’s daemon,” she says, sliding onto the bench next to him. “It’s ugly.”
“What’s so special about water daemons, anyway?” Jasper asks, squeezing under the table and almost standing on Pambe. A lynx is too big to comfortably fit under cafeteria tables, but he still insists on laying with Pambe. Peter pulls his feet onto the bench to give them room.
“Water daemons are rare,” Ned says. “That’s why people like them.”
Jasper scoffs and flops down on top Pambe. She lays placidly under his bulk, like the world’s most patient and furry pancake.
Under Peter’s sleeve, Rue twitches. He can feel her hollow yearning. She wants to be under there with Pambe and Jasper, but she’s too anxious to move out from under his sleeve. Her scratches at her scales.
MJ catches the motion. “Everything okay?”
Peter smiles tightly. “Fine.”
“Reddit is bullshit anyway,” MJ says. “Don’t listen to a bunch of cape-chasers.”
Peter shoves his tray away, too exhausted to eat the rest of his plastic mac and cheese. “Really, MJ? You follow r/vigilantes too?”
MJ shrugs, avoiding his gaze. “You’re terrible at keeping us updated.”
“So you turn to reddit?”
“The thread is surprisingly quick at posting whenever something happens,” Ned volunteers. Peter glares at him. Ned winces and quickly changes the subject.
As they’re filing out of the cafeteria at the end of lunch, Peter spots Terry. His daemon, a freshwater crawfish, bobs happily in his portable aquarium. She’s a murky brown with blue-tipped claws.
She’s not ugly, Peter thinks. She’s beautiful.
He’s happy for Terry. He knew Terry would make it eventually, even when he felt like he would be unsettled forever. At the same time, Peter hates him a little bit. He wonders if that makes him a bad person.
Ned isn’t in his next class, but MJ is. Peter takes the seat beside her. Rue finally slithers out of his sweatshirt and shifts into a chinchilla. She scampers onto the desk, peering over Peter’s textbooks at Jasper, napping in the aisle.
In the row in front of them, Flash slams his books down violently. His daemon, Theodora, a pink and grey galah, is perched on his shoulder.
“Hey, Parker,” Flash says, “did you see? Miller’s daemon settled.”
“Yeah,” Peter says tightly. “I saw.”
“Now there’s no seniors or juniors with unsettled daemons. Oh, wait. There’s still you.”
Peter pulls Rue closer, caging her with his hands. Daemons don’t often attack each other, and Flash isn’t much of a fighter to begin with, but having someone hovering over him like this, a larger daemon looking at them with those beady red eyes …
“Hey,” MJ says. “Fuck off, will you? Your daemon might make you look like the world’s shittiest pirate, but that doesn’t mean you can take it out on us.”
Jasper emerges from beneath the desk. Flash scuttles backward to avoid touching the large lynx.
Jasper yawns and stretches, showing off his sizable teeth and claws, his tail lashing back and forth. Then he sits back. Stares at Flash with yellow eyes. Licks his lips.
Flash glances at MJ. She stares resolutely back.
Rue squirms under Peter’s hand. She’s torn between disappearing into Peter’s sleeve and leaping onto Jasper’s back, even though he’s five times larger than her and radiating tension.
“Goodbye, Eugene,” MJ says flatly.
“There’s no arranged seating,” Flash says, chin raised. “I can sit wherever I want.”
Jasper hisses, clearly audible but low enough to escape the class’s attention. Flash scrambles back even further.
“Goodbye,” MJ says again.
Flash glares at them both, before grabbing his books and moving to the other side of the classroom. Jasper settles back down.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Peter says.
MJ shrugs. “He was annoying me.”
“Well,” Peter says awkwardly. He’s not used to being saved. “Thank you.”
Rue wriggles out of Peter’s hands and jumps onto the floor. He can hear the daemons murmuring under their desks. When Jasper traps Rue against the ground with a giant paw, Rue doesn’t fight it, just laughs and nibbles playfully at him.
MJ shrugs again, pretending to be enraptured in her textbook, even though he can see that her eyes aren’t moving across the page.
[Image: Johnny Storm smiling winningly at the camera, a northern harrier perched on his shoulder. New York is spread out beneath him like a painting. Both Johnny and his daemon are on fire, smoke rising from them in whisps.]
JohnnyStormed
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A morning fly with Madeline 🔥 #superheroes #powereddaemons #smokinghot #newyorkcity
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On his way home from school, Peter’s thoughts drift to Terry Miller. They weren’t close, but they had spoken before, simply because they had been the two oldest students in the school whose daemons hadn’t settled.
“It feels like she’ll never settle,” Terry had said, hunched over his books. “Like I’m going to be stuck like this forever.”
Peter had floundered for something to say. How do you reassure someone that shares your own fears?
“She’ll settle,” he said at last, hugging Rue—a calico cat—to his chest. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it.”
Terry stared at him flatly. “Wow. Thanks, Parker. That helps a lot.”
“You know how it feels like you’ll never grow up when you’re a kid?” Peter went on, the words rushing up from somewhere inside him, the way they sometimes did when he was Spider-Man and there was someone in front of him that needed his help. “You look at high schoolers and they seem so mature, and it feels like you’ll never get to that age. And then suddenly, you’re learning how to drive and teachers are talking to you about college entrance exams, and now you look at kids and can’t imagine yourself ever being that young?”
“I guess,” Terry said slowly. “What does that have to do with our daemons?”
“It’s all about growing up, I guess,” Peter said. “Even when you’re doing it, it feels impossible. It’s so slow you don’t notice it. And then one day, you’re older than you thought you’d ever be, and your old fears about growing up seem so far away.
“Well.” Peter paused, considering. “We’re not adults yet either and I’m still scared shitless about college, so this metaphor isn’t that great.” He shrugged, hugging Rue closer. “It’s hard to notice that you’re changing when you’re in the middle of it. Your daemon will settle. And one day, you’ll look back and wonder why you were ever scared that she wouldn’t.”
That day, Terry’s daemon was a moth, perched on his books. He touched her wing gently, as though he were seeing her for the first time.
“Huh,” he said. “That … that actually helps a lot. Thanks, Parker.”
Peter smiled thinly, and tried to convince himself that he believed his own advice. “Yeah. No problem.”
Here’s the thing: Rue will settle one day, even if that thought sometimes feels impossible.
And Peter can’t control what she settles into.
Unless she settles into something small, like a beetle or a spider, then he won’t be able to hide her. But Spider-Man can’t cart around a daemon. Peter Parker can’t walk around with the same daemon as Spider-Man.
Flash’s words burn. He hates how people stare when Rue shifts at school or in public, gawking at the almost-adult with an unsettled daemon. But the alternative is worse. Peter can’t be a hero with a settled daemon.
Rue is a time-bomb. She’s going to settle one day, and Peter has no idea what to do about it.
When May comes home that evening, Peter is sitting on the sofa, watching the news blankly. Rue, a field mouse, is curled in his hands. He’s holding her too tightly, and she’s chewing on his ragged thumb, and neither of them react when the door closes loudly behind May.
“You will not believe the day I’ve had,” May announces, dumping her handbag on the counter. “There was a flash mob on the subway—during peak hour.”
May kicks off her shoes and rounds the sofa. She stops, taking Peter in—his huddled position, his flat gaze, Rue chewing on his thumb.
She sits down beside him, taking the hand Rue was chewing on. “I heard what happened last night.”
Peter shudders, a full-body motion. She opens her arms and he sinks into the embrace. Her daemon, Amira, a house swallow, settles on the couch. Rue jumps onto the cushion beside him, and he begins gently preening her fur.
“Rue’s never been out like that,” Peter mumbles against her shoulder. “And somebody took a photo.”
“I know,” May says gently, “but at least no one seemed to believe it.”
Peter pulls back, scowling weakly at her. “Does everyone in this city follow r/vigilantes?”
Her fingers brush through his fringe. “You’re alright, Peter,” she soothes. “Rue is alright. You’re both alright.”
Peter presses deeper into her shoulder and tries to believe that.
“Is there anything I can do?” May asks.
Peter closes his eyes. Lets himself just feel safe and small in her arms. “Can we just stay here for a while?”
“Of course, baby,” May says, her fingers carding through his hair, the way she used to soothe him when he was a kid. “Of course.”
When they were young, Rue’s favourite form was a saint bernard.
Just like Lucy, Ben’s daemon.
When May saw Rue prancing around the apartment as a smaller and bouncy version of Lucy, she would always laugh and say, “Don’t get stuck like that.”
“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that,” Ben had said, winking exaggeratingly at Peter, and dancing out of May’s reach when she tried to swat him with a dish towel.
Rue and Peter had always been small for their age. They would grow, Lucy reassured them. One day, Rue would be even bigger than her—but even then, she would never stop being Lucy’s pup.
When he found Ben in that damp alleyway, blood seeping across the cement, something inside them had died. Rue had lain with Lucy, two matching saint bernards damp with rainwater, until Ben had passed.
Rue can’t bring herself to shift into a dog anymore. She once said that, when she did, she could feel phantom dust in her fur, feel the echo of Lucy curled around her before evaporating into nothingness.
But that was okay. Spider-Man couldn’t have a daemon that settled into a saint bernard. They were too big, too slow, too recognisable. So it was fine.
It was fine.
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You’d rather spend your time getting to know the real New York City and the people that live there rather than wasting your time at tourist hotspots. You’re helpful, kind, and always ready with a (terrible) joke. And although you might not have the biggest or most obvious daemon, you’re impossible to ignore!
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Peter might disagree with Daredevil about a lot of things, but he’s always been there when Peter needed him. He’ll be there again, should Peter call.
He knows the man under the mask, even though Daredevil hadn’t meant to tell him. One night, Daredevil had caught a bullet under his ribs and another in his shoulder, and Peter had been the one to carry him to Claire’s house. He’d stayed frozen in her cramped living room, adrenaline souring on his tongue, shaking as shock set in, as she stripped back the layers of armour, revealing a handsome face and blank, brown eyes.
Although he knows the blind lawyer under the mask, he’s never Matt’s daemon. His daemon must be small enough to hide somewhere on his person. Since Peter won’t really be able to control what Rue settles into, advice from an insect daemon won’t be helpful, but he has to try and do something.
Peter knocks on Matt’s door, one hand stuffed in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. Rue is a field mouse again today. Her whiskers tickle his knuckles.
Matt doesn’t answer. Instead, the door swings open to reveal a shorter man, hair curling around his ears, blinking in surprise at Peter.
Peter blinks back, equally shocked. “Uh. I’m looking for Matt?”
“He’s not in right now. If you’re a client, I can take a message—”
“No, no, I’m not a client.”
The man squints at him. “Then who are you? As far as I’m aware, Matt doesn’t know any kids.”
“I’m seventeen,” Peter defends. The man doesn’t look impressed. “Look, I just need to talk to him about a, uh, shared hobby of ours? It doesn’t matter. I’ll come back later.”
The man holds up a hand. “Wait. Do you know about … you know?”
“Yeah,” Peter says, holding two fingers to his temples, mimicking horns. “I know.”
“God. How does a high schooler know about this? And you said ‘shared hobbies.’ What does that mean? Just—” The man scrubs a hand through his hair and steps aside, holding the door open. “Come in.”
Peter carefully steps inside. The frazzled man in a crumpled button-down introduces himself as Foggy.
“Peter. Peter Parker.” Rue sticks her head out of his pocket and sniffs the air. She seems to consider coming out and morphing into something larger, but then, by the sofa, a speckled dog looks up and whines. That sound, pitchy and warbled and deeply unsettling, makes goosebumps rise on Peter’s arm. Rue scampers back into his sweatshirt.
“Um,” Peter says, one hand braced on his sweatshirt pocket, where Rue is curled into a tight ball. “This is Rue. Who is … ?”
Peter steps closer and sees there are two dogs curled together on the couch. Foggy gestures first at a corgi, curled around the speckled dog and peppering her with kisses. “This is my daemon, Mags.” Then he points at the other dog. She’s mottled brown with white spots dotting her fur, almost like freckles. Some kind of cross-breed, Peter thinks. “And this is Sasha. She’s Matt’s daemon.”
“Matt’s daemon?” Peter echoes. “But ...”
But Peter and Foggy are the only people in the apartment. Matt might be a sneaky bastard, but Peter’s enhanced senses would be able to tell if there was another person nearby.
“Matt’s gone looking for trouble,” Foggy says. “But I can take a message for him.”
Peter stares at Sasha. Her gaze is vacant. Clouded. She’s sitting strangely, like her limbs don’t work right, and she doesn’t respond to Mags.
And she’s here. While Matt is out trawling the city as Daredevil.
Daredevil, who doesn’t have a visible daemon. Daredevil, who doesn’t have an insect daemon but a dog daemon.
“Are you in trouble?” Foggy asks. “Look, I can’t beat anyone up for you, but I’m a lawyer. If you’re in trouble from the law, I can help. And if you need somewhere to stay, you’re welcome to crash here. If Matt trusted you enough to give you his address, then I trust you too.”
“No,” Peter says, choked. He backs up quickly, still holding Rue tightly. “That’s alright. I’ll just call him and leave a voicemail.”
He flees the apartment before Foggy can ask anymore questions.
Peter doesn’t call Matt.
Matt finds him two nights later. When he hears the soft footfalls on the rooftop behind him, he considers running. But then, what would be the point? There are some things, he’s learning, that you can’t run from.
“I heard you met Sasha.”
Peter shrugs. “Met Foggy, too. He seems nice.”
Matt sits down beside him, legs hanging over the ledge. Rue runs out of Peter’s glove and up his arm, shifting into a possum. She perches on Peter’s shoulder, watching Matt with beady eyes.
“What’s wrong with Sasha?” she asks.
“Rue,” Peter hisses.
“It’s okay, Peter,” Matt says. “I expected questions. Sasha’s clearly not normal.”
“You’re separated,” Rue says grimly, answering her own question.
Peter’s stomach roils. The signs were all there, but hearing it said aloud ...
“It’s the only way I can be Daredevil,” Matt says. “We can hide it during the day, since she acts differently when she’s with me, but I wouldn’t be able to take her with me at night. No matter how careful we were, it’d expose our identities.”
Peter cups Rue to his chest. He wonders if she can feel how fast his heart is racing. “Did you sever your connection on purpose?”
“It happened when I was a child. I had this mentor, Stick, and … well, he taught me a lot of things I shouldn’t have known. But it wasn’t so I could become Daredevil. It’s just convenient that we’re separated now.”
“Convenient,” Peter repeats.
“Taking your daemon into the field is dangerous,” Matt says, and he sounds like he’s trying to be kind, even if the words coming out of his mouth make Peter feel like he’s going to be sick. “I’m not the only hero with a separated daemon. Jessica Jones does, too. Black Widow. Deadpool.”
“But there’s plenty of heroes that don’t,” Peter says. “Like the rest of the Avengers and Luke Cage and the Fantastic Four.”
“People who have trained and know how to protect their daemons,. People with public identities. People who are adults and know the risks.”
“I know the risks.”
“Do you? What are you going to do when Rue settles?”
Peter stands. He can’t do this.
He steps onto the ledge, then pauses. “Matt?”
Matt cocks his head to the side. He always looks so calm, so self-assured. Peter used to envy that. Now, it just makes him remember Sasha’s vacant gaze, her inhuman whine, the way she sat like she didn’t have full control over her own body.
“Yeah?”
“Did it hurt?” Peter asks. “Severing your connection?”
Matt smiles and the expression is so empty that Peter can’t help but be reminded of Sasha.
“More than anything in the world,” Matt says.
papyrusadvance reblogged logo-comics
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guys guys guys
i was lurking on the r/vigilante thread over on reddit (shut up everyone knows it’s the best place for hero info in nyc) and i kept seeing the same animals popping up on posts about spiderman’s daemon. it seemed strange that there were so many overlapping but contradictory theories. but then i thought, what if everyone is right?
what if his daemon is able to be all those things?? what if his daemon hasn’t settled yet?
do yall remember a few weeks back when someone managed to get a “proof” that spiderman’s daemon was a lynx? (link for anyone that hasn’t seen it) and yeah, it might be fake, but considering that we can see everyone else’s daemon in that photo and its already been confirmed that there wasnt anyone else around (in this comment from a redditor who knows someone at the nycpd) then its pretty likely that that is spidey’s daemon
but how would that work? how could spiderman swing around nyc with a daemon that big?
he couldn’t. it’s just not possible even if he and his daemon could extend their bond. so his daemon has to either a) be able to keep up with him or b) hide under his suit. and what if his daemon could shift into a bird and an insect/arachnid? that would be the perfect cover
i’ve already talked about the theory that spiderman is on the younger side (you can find those posts here and here). its not even a theory at this point, its pretty much accepted as truth by the wider public tbh
but even if spiderman was really young when he first appeared, he’d probably still be much older than the average age daemons settle. which means he’s a late settler. after all kids who’ve suffered trauma often settle years later than their peers
i’m convinced spiderman hasn’t had a typical life. i mean what would convince somebody - especially a young somebody - to put on bright red and blue footie pjs and fight crime every other night? often at the risk of their life?? the avengers might be role models but spiderman clearly isnt chasing fame since iron man himself has said spidey’s turned down a spot on the team
besides, being a hero isn’t easy. more than one hero has admitted to suffering from ptsd because of their experiences. so its totally possible that being a hero has kept spiderman’s daemon from settling
thank you for coming to my ted talk
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papyrusadvance:
Actually you’re not the first person to speculate that Spiderman might have an unsettled daemon. There’s been quite a few posts in the past but all of them have been deleted
.
logo-comics:
really?? i’ve never seen any posts like that before
.
papyrusadvance:
You’ve probably never seen them because the posts get sniped before they get popular
@mira-kyria and @ninetieshackergay both said their posts about this topic vanished. So either this site is getting glitchier and glitcher or tumblr keeps deleting them…..
Notes: 182 notes
Tagged: #i’m not saying it’s a conspiracy #but it’s a conspiracy #*puts on my tinfoil hat* #spiderman #rpf superheroes
It’s lunchtime, but Peter doesn’t feel like eating. He doesn’t feel like doing much of anything. Ned and MJ must be really worried. He turned his phone off when their constant messages just made him feel worse.
All day, Rue has been a stag beetle, curled up tight in his t-shirt pocket, a warm hard lump against his heart. She hasn’t moved. Peter doesn’t blame her.
He passed through classes in a haze, fumbling for an answer when the teachers called on him. Flash had enjoyed that.
He can hear the chatter of students and staff, faintly muffled by the walls. Peter wonders if he can stay hidden in this stairwell for the rest of the day. Probably not. Someone would catch him, and then he’d be forced to stay after school for detention, and he doesn’t need May worrying about him anymore than she already is.
The door to the stairwell swings open. The squeal of rusted hinges grates on his sensitive ears, and he buries his face in his knees, hoping that the person leaves quickly.
They don’t. Sneakers squeak against the stairs, then stop. Right in front of him.
“Parker?”
Peter looks up. There, standing on the bottom step, staring at him like he’s never seen him before, is the last person he wanted to see right now. Flash.
“Hey, Flash,” Peter grumbles into his arms.
Flash glances around the empty stairwell, as if looking for some reason why Peter might be here, huddled against the wall, instead of in the cafeteria with the rest of their classmates.
“Jasper finally scared you off?” Flash says, trying for a smirk that doesn’t sit right on his face. “He’s been feral all day. Thought he was going to bite Theodora’s head off in Lit.”
He doesn’t point that the only reason why Jasper had been so hostile was because he had caught Flash staring at Peter.
He shrugs. “Don’t know where Jasper is right now.”
“You’re hiding, then,” Flash says. “Just like your daemon, huh?”
Peter closes his eyes and tips his head back until it hits the wall. He’s so tired. He hadn’t managed to sleep at all last night, just sat in the murky dark, Rue curled up on his chest, feeling her heartbeat against his.
The silence stretches on. Flash stays there, frozen on the bottom step.
“Do—” Flash starts, clearing his throat. “Do you want her to settle?”
Peter opens his eyes. “What?”
“You’re almost an adult, but Rue’s still not settled. So do you actually want her to settle or do you like being able to shift?”
He stares at Flash, trying to come to grips with that question. The most bizarre thing about all of this is the fact that the question doesn’t sound mocking; instead, Flash almost sounds genuine.
“Why do you care?” Peter asks.
Flash rocks back, not meeting his eyes. On his shoulder, Theodora ruffles her feathers, wings flapping to keep her balance. “It’s not normal for people to be unsettled at our age—”
“You think I don’t know that?” he snaps. “It’s not my choice, Flash. I didn’t choose to be a freak. She just won’t settle.”
Flash shrinks back. He looks almost wounded—almost guilty, Peter thinks, before quickly discarding that thought.
“I was reading something yesterday,” Flash says, “about unsettled daemons. And apparently, people who’ve experienced trauma … it’s harder for them to settle.”
Peter presses a hand to his chest. Rue is a still ball under his palm, ignoring the world around her.
“And then,” Flash goes on, “I thought about your uncle ...”
“What do you want, Flash?” Peter asks again.
Flash sits down on the stairs, hands braced on his knees. “I just wanted to know if it was true.”
Anger burns through the fog that’s been smothering him all day. “That I’m fucked up because I watched my uncle die? That’s what you want to know?”
Flash doesn’t meet his eyes. It reminds him of Theodora, shrinking under Jasper’s snarls, and all at once, all the anger drains out of him.
“That’s not fair,” Flash says, quiet. “You shouldn’t have to suffer twice.”
Peter sags against the wall, still gently touching his unmoving daemon. “Yeah, well. Trauma is like that. It’s not supposed to be fair.”
Flash swallows, once, twice, before gathering the strength to say, “I’m sorry.”
He blinks. “What?”
“You’re still annoying as hell,” Flash says quickly, “and I’m pretty sure you cheat at decathlon. No way you can learn so much random shit so quickly. But you didn’t ask for your daemon to be unsettled.”
Peter squints at him. “Are you … trying to apologise for bullying me about Rue?”
He bares his teeth. “I’m not a bully, Penis!”
“Oh, yeah. That’s really convincing, man.”
“I always thought you were just—stalling or something,” Flash says. “I don’t know. Your daemon can shift into anything you want, and yet she’s always turning into mice and bugs and shit. I thought, if you had the choice, why wouldn’t you turn into something amazing like a tiger?
“But then I read about the consequences of trauma. And I realised you didn’t actually have much choice in the matter.”
“No,” Peter says. “No, I don’t. You didn’t have a choice about what Theodora settled into, right? Why would you think that I would?”
“My dad always wanted her to settle into something impressive. Instead she was a pink bird, and not even a bird of prey. Just the same kind of species someone might own as a pet.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. Theodora’s lovely.”
“Not according to my dad,” Flash mutters. He stands, brushing dust off his jeans. “Look, just—sorry, okay? And if you tell anyone I said any of this shit, I’ll kick your ass.”
“I could take you,” Peter says easily.
“Whatever,” Flash says, rolling his eyes, and finally leaving Peter alone in the stairwell.
Peter stands, stretching out his stiff muscles. The thought of leaving the stairwell no longer feels overwhelming.
He finds Ned and MJ before lunch is over. Ned hugs him and then shoves a capri sun into his hands. MJ smacks him around the ears for making them think he’d snuck out and run headfirst into danger, but she sticks close to his side for the rest of the day, Jasper following at their heels like a silent bodyguard.
Peter doesn’t tell anyone about his conversation with Flash. But the words sit warm in his chest, like a fire on a winter night, fighting away the fog.
The next day, Rue spends most of the day as a gecko, tucked inside Peter’s sleeve. They’ve always been close, preferring to stay in physical contact whenever they can, but ever since meeting Sasha, Rue has stayed hidden from the rest of the world.
But after school, when they meet up with Ned and MJ in the library, Rue crawls out of his sweatshirt, shifts into a raccoon, and buries her face in Pamba’s side. It’s the first time Peter has seen her interact with anyone since they had spoken with Matt.
Jasper, for his part, seems to have a soft spot for Rue. The proud predator stays still when Rue’s grubby little hands card through his fur, play with his ears, and knead his side, using him like a stress ball.
They settle down in a corner of the library, the shelves hiding them from view. They pull out their textbooks, open up the marking rubric for their group assignment, and then immediately forget about working.
Peter tells them about that night up on the rooftop, even though he hates thinking about it. Ned and MJ have always been good at coaxing uncomfortable secrets out of him.
Ned looks like he’s going to be ill. “Daredevil separated from his daemon? Willingly? Who does that?”
Peter shrugs. “I don’t know. It sounds like someone manipulated him into it.”
“Yeah, but ...” Ned shakes his head, looking vaguely ill. “I always thought intercisions only happened during accidents. Or during torture.”
“Yeah,” Peter says quietly. “Me too.”
But then, Peter has always been a little naive, especially when it comes to daemons. Most people can stomach their daemons wandering a few yards away from them without having a meltdown. Unlike Peter.
Maybe he should talk to Matt again. Maybe, through training, he and Rue would be able to move further away from each other. And maybe …
MJ whacks Peter with her algebra book.
“Ow!”
“It’s not an option, Peter,” she says.
Ned’s eyes go wide. “Peter, you weren’t actually thinking about severing your connection to Rue, were you?”
“No!” MJ looks unconvinced. Ned looks like he’s going to cry—or Peter into his arms and never let him go. Peter scrubs a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t, really. You know how close Rue and I are. It’d totally break us. But … if Rue and I weren’t so codependent, maybe it’d be easier.”
“She’s your soul,” MJ says. “It’s okay to be close.”
“Easy for you to say. You and Jasper are way better at being apart than us. And Rue and I have to go out and fight crime.”
Something flickers over MJ’s face, there and then gone again. She looks away. “You don’t know what other people’s lives are like, Peter. You can’t keep comparing your bond with Rue to the rest of the world.”
“I can if it’s endangering our lives.”
“So, what? You’re going to sever your connection based on a what if?”
“Uh, guys,” Ned says, glancing between them. “Calm down. We’re still in the library—”
“It’s not a what if,” Peter says, ignoring Ned. “Rue is going to settle, sooner rather than later. And what then?”
“You don’t know what Rue is going to be. She could be something small.”
“She might not be! What if she’s a tiger? How can Spider-Man justify swinging around with a tiger?”
“There’s no way you’d have a tiger daemon, Parker.”
“I could!”
“Wouldn’t be surprised if Rue ends up settling into a gecko or a garden snake since she likes being small.”
“So you think I’m worrying for nothing? I should just keep going and hope Rue doesn’t end up settling into a—a flamingo in the middle of a fight and getting us both killed?”
“That’s not what I’m saying!”
“Then what are you saying, MJ? Because it sounds like—”
“Stop being such a self-sacrificing idiot and—”
“What?”
“—take a step back. What would your aunt say if—”
“Don’t bring May into this!”
“Guys!” Ned cuts in loudly. “Stop it.”
Silence falls over their corner of the library. Peter is breathing hard. MJ is leaning over their daemons, while Peter is leant back, hands braced against the wall, like he’s getting ready to scuttle up to the ceiling.
On the carpet, Pamba is lying on top of Jasper and Rue, though none of the daemons look like they’ve been fighting.
“Sorry,” Peter mumbles.
MJ pushes her hair out of her face. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“I know this is difficult,” Ned says. “I’m freaked out too. But yelling at each other isn’t the way to go.”
Peter wonders when Ned became so mature. He still catches himself staring at Ned and MJ across the cafeteria table sometimes, marvelling over how normal they seem, how mundane their problems are compared to his. But sometimes, Peter feels like they’ve grown up without him.
A librarian emerges from the shelves, glowering at them. “You’re being too loud, people are trying to work. And are you eating?”
MJ scoops up their snacks and shoves it into her bag. They run before the librarian can recognise them or ask their names, bolting out of the library at a sprint.
They manage to make it outside undetected, weaving through the corridors, bags jangling as they run. Peter’s spider-sense is good for more than just crime-fighting, he supposes.
They emerge into the bright afternoon sun, breathing heavily. The back of the school is deserted.
“Told you,” Ned pants, “to keep it down.”
“Sorry,” Peter says again. Rue is no longer a raccoon, but a jackrabbit, twitching between his sneakers.
MJ blows out a breath. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I know how stressed you are about this.”
Has Peter been that obvious? He thought he’d done an okay job of hiding how scared he was, but from the knowing looks MJ and Ned exchange, they must understand how deeply this has rattled him.
Peter smiles weakly. “It’s okay, MJ. Really.”
Pamba ambles over and sniffs at Rue. Her ears flatten, but she stays still and lets Pamba check her over. Jasper watches them keenly from a few metres away. When Pambe comes over to check him too, he sighs, but doesn’t fight her.
“Come on,” Ned says, hitching his backpack higher up his shoulders. “Let’s find somewhere to work.”
Direct Message
Peter (10:46): here’s the first part of my report
Peter (10:46): group_report.docx
Peter (10:46): haven’t finished formatting my references though
Peter (10:47): i hate referencing so muccchhhh
MJ (10:49): if you finish off the introduction for me, i’ll do all your references
Peter (10:49): deal!!!
MJ (10:52): bullshitintro.docx
MJ: (10:52) it’s your problem now
Peter (10:52): group_refs.docx
Peter (10:52): leave it to me!
MJ (11:13): I’m sorry
Peter (11:14): ????
MJ (11:14): for today. In the library.
MJ (11:14): i’m sorry for pushing you like that
MJ (11:14): I know how stressed you are about everything
Peter (11:15): it’s okay
Peter (11:15): you and ned are always there for me, and i know i’m not easy to be around sometimes
Peter (11:16): i’m sorry too. I shouldn’t get so worked up like that
MJ (11:18): we’re your friends, asshole. we’re going to support you even when you’re freaked out or upset. don’t apologise for having emotions
MJ (11:18): if you can’t lose it a little when you’re around us, then when can you?
Peter (11:19): i shouldn’t be losing it at all
MJ (11:21): you’re human, pete. even though you act like you’re invincible sometimes, you’re allowed to be scared or upset
Peter: (11:22) doesn’t mean i can take it out on my friends though
MJ (11:22): no, it doesn’t
MJ (11:30): you’re not actually considering what daredevil said are you?
MJ (11:30): you and rue are so close. intercision would destroy you
Peter (11:33): we won’t do it, i promise
Peter (11:34): i don’t think we ever probably considered it, we know we couldn’t actually do it. but what other options do we have? she’s going to settle eventually and then what??
MJ (11:34): there’s always another option
MJ (11:34): you’re spider-man, tiger. you’ll figure something you. there’s no way something like this will keep you down
Peter (11:35): thank you, mj
Peter (11:35): that might be the nicest thing you ever said about me
MJ (11:36): don’t let it get to your head
Peter can’t shake the thought that he’s travelling on a dead-end path.
He won’t end up like Matt Murdock, or Jessica Jones, or Wade Wilson. He won’t sever his connection with Rue. So what’s the other option?
Is there another option?
And so, in a fit of sleep-deprived mania, he tracks down someone who might know what Peter is going through.
Johnny Storm is a streak of orange-gold against the sky. His daemon is almost invisible, but if Peter squints, he can see her ducking and weaving around him, leaving flickering embers in her wake.
Peter swings after them. Johnny notices, laughs, and leads them higher into the air.
They soar above the city. Peter feels more alive than he has in months. This is where he belongs, flying recklessly above the world.
Rue crawls out of his collar. His hand rises to cradle her, keep her safe against his neck, but she leaps onto his hand, crawls up his arm, and jumps.
Peter grabs at her. Misses.
Rue spins through the air, laughing, and shifts into a yellow songbird. With a flap of her bright wings, she flies out of arm's reach and then keeps going, a sunshine blot against the overcast sky.
Peter can’t remember the last time he was this far away from his daemon.
Gravity drags him back down, furthering the distance between them. The bond stretches, a near-painful ache, like stretching out an unused limb. Peter waits for the sudden spike pain when they reach too-far, but it never comes. The bond, pulled thin between them, just feels sore.
He catches himself and ricochets back into the air. Rue dives somewhere to the left of him, still a lurid yellow.
“Rue,” he hollers, fighting to be heard over the wind. “Come on!”
He feels her exasperation through the bond, before she shifts into an ordinary, slate-grey pigeon. Peter hopes that no one had seen her shift.
He knows he’ll have to talk to her about how dangerous that had been, but in that moment, the wind rushing past them, Rue laughing louder than she has in months, Peter can’t really bring himself to care.
Johnny perches on top of a skyscraper, lounging effortlessly on the sloping surface. Peter lands before him.
Johnny smiles. “Hey, webs. Wanted to see me?”
“It’s not like I have you on facebook.”
“I’ll send you a friend request. Just tell me your name and I’ll—”
“Johnny.”
Johnny laughs, scrubbing a hand through his windswept hair. “Had to try, didn’t I?”
Madeline flies further up the rooftop, where a handful of pigeons—and Rue—are roosting. Rue edges closer to her. They greet each other with a clash of beaks, despite the size difference between them.
“Is that … ?” Johnny asks, staring at Rue.
“Yeah,” Peter says. “That’s Rue.”
Johnny pumps a fist in the air. “I knew it! I always said the pigeon theory makes the most sense. Ben owes me $10.”
Peter blinks. “What?”
“The pigeon theory,” Johnny says. “You know, on r/vigilantes? Of course your daemon is a pigeon. She has to be able to blend in and keep up with you.”
Peter groans, tipping his head back. The sunlight, murky through the clouds, glints off the reflective rooftop, almost blinding him. “Does everyone in this city follow that thread?”
“What?”
Peter shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. But, uh, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Reddit?”
“No. Rue. She’s …” Peter stands and makes his way to the daemons. He glances around. There are no helicopters in the sky, no taller skyscrapers overlooking them. His spider-sense is completely silent. “Okay. Come on, Rue.”
He holds out a hand, beckoning her forward. She pulls away from Johnny’s daemon, shifts into a stag beetle and runs onto his palm. Peter carries her back to Johnny.
Johnny stares at her blankly. “She shifted,” he says. “Your daemon shifted.”
Rue shifts into a ringneck snake and slides around Peter’s fingers. She’s small enough to wrap around his pointer and middle finger, shimming in place to show off her yellow-orange stomach.
“I’m indecisive,” Peter says lightly. “Can’t pick just one animal. What would be the fun in that?”
Johnny runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t laugh at Peter’s joke. That’s okay. It wasn’t very funny.
“Spidey,” Johnny says hoarsely, “are you okay?”
Peter stiffens. “I’m fine.”
Johnny makes a face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just—I mean, aren’t daemons supposed to ...”
“Everyone settles at their own speed.” That’s what May always tells him. He had always been embarrassed when she said that, but with Johnny’s twisted up face in front of him, it’s her voice that soothes him. He would be okay. May said so.
Johnny swallows. “How old are you, Spidey?”
Peter considers lying. But then, Rue is threaded through his fingers, visible for him to see. That’s a bigger secret than his age.
“Seventeen,” he says. “I know I’m too old to have an unsettled daemon. I know that.”
“Well,” Johnny says awkwardly, “I’m sure she’ll settle soon. You’re probably just … a late bloomer.”
Rue flicks her tongue at Johnny. “That’s the problem.”
“What if she doesn’t settle into a pigeon?” Peter asks. “Or something small enough to hide? What then?”
“Oh,” Johnny says, eyes widening. “Oh, fuck, Spidey.”
Peter laughs, long and light, even though this isn’t funny. There’s something about being this high up with Johnny, New York spread out in front of him, Rue weaving through his fingers instead of hidden away—it makes his problems feel so much further away.
“Yeah,” Peter says with a silly, somewhat-hysterical smile. “Exactly.”
Johnny stands, holding out a hand. Peter takes it. Johnny drags him to his feet.
“Come on. You’ve clearly been freaking out about this for a while. I have no idea how to help, but I don’t think you’re going to come up with any new ideas soon.”
“Thanks, Johnny.”
Madeline launches into the sky, her wings catching fire. Against the grey skies, she looks like a beacon, lighting the way.
Johnny cocks his head. “How about we take a lap around New York?”
“I doubt you have the energy for that,” Peter says.
Johnny smiles like a challenge. “Bet you I do.”
Peter tucks Rue into his collar. She relaxes against his neck, but through the bond, he feels how much she longs to join Madeline.
“Okay,” Peter says, stepping up to the ledge. “Prove it.”
Peter weaves through crowds, earphones in. Rue, a long-tailed chinchilla, is huddled in his baggy hood. Her whiskers tickle his neck.
More and more often these days, being Peter Parker feels like a chore. He doesn’t want to be flat-footed on the ground, sandwiched between the bustling afternoon crowd. It doesn’t feel safe, like it used to. It just feels exhausting.
Rue feels it too. She doesn’t need to tell him how sweaty and confining his hood is. He knows. He understands.
A sudden shout echoes through the street. Peter turns, pulling out his earbuds.
A streak of gold burns across the sky. People point, cameras angled upward. Peter aches with how desperately he wants to throw off his backpack and follow Johnny up into the air.
He checks his phone. There’s an invasion of displaced dinosaurs in Manhattan. Johnny doesn’t look like he’s speeding towards a fight. He looks so happy. So free.
And again, he thinks, Peter Parker is a cage.
And oh, he thinks. Oh.
Three hours later, Peter crashes into Tony Stark’s living room. FRIDAY let him in. He thinks she’s had a soft spot for him ever since he was fifteen years old and scolding Tony for not saying please and thank you to his AI.
He’s sweaty and drunk on adrenaline and there’s a gash in his calf that hasn’t stopped bleeding. He doesn’t care. Neither does Rue. She’s a hummingbird, fluttering around his head with all the energy of Ned on redbull.
Tony has stripped down to his undersuit. He’s damp with dinosaur slobber. His stoat daemon is also soaked through. Peter didn’t get to see Tony get swallowed by a T-Rex (and then burst out of its mouth in a spray of blood and spit), but the news has been playing repeats of it ever since. Ned has already messaged him a video. Twice.
Tony looks up. Blinks saliva out of his eyes. “Peter? What are you doing here? Show’s over, kid.”
“Yeah, I know.” Peter crosses the living room in several quick steps. “I’m here about something else.”
Tony zeroes in on his leg. “You’re injured.”
“Not that! I’ll heal. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine, you absolute menace—”
Peter grips Tony by the shoulders, pulling his attention away from where blood is dripping onto the hardwood floors. “Mr. Stark. I want to tell the world who I am.”
“Is this the blood loss talking?” Tony asks. “Are you concussed? It sounds like you’re concussed. FRIDAY?”
“Scans indicate that Mr. Parker doesn’t have a concussion, boss. You, on the other hand…”
Tony waves FRIDAY off. “Pete, you’ve always been protective of your identity. I offered the Avengers up to you on a silver tray two years ago and you turned me down. What gives?”
“This isn’t about the Avengers. It never has been. It’s about me and Rue.”
Rue shifts into a fairy wren. She lands on Peter’s shoulder with a flutter of brilliant blue wings, her long tail wagging behind her.
Peter pulls his mask off, and she jumps onto his head and starts making a little nest out of his hair. He laughs, long and loud. He can’t help it. Her beak tickling his scalp, Tony’s confused, spit-sodden face—it’s just too much for him.
“You’ve lost it,” Tony decides.
“No,” Peter says. “No, really. I want to do this, Mr. Stark. Rue is going to settle eventually, and then I won’t really have a choice in whether people find out who we are. Unless we’re lucky and she settles into something small, but when has luck ever been on my side?”
“I was figured she’d settle into a spider. It’s very you.”
“That’d be cool,” Peter admits. “But I can’t keep waiting to find out what she’s going to be. I just … feel so trapped. Being Peter Parker isn’t a luxury anymore. It’s a cage.”
Tony’s face softens. “Okay. I’ll call a press conference. Next week?”
Peter counts the days in his head. It’s a Monday now. He can’t wait a full week to do this. It would destroy him. But he has decathlon practise on Wednesdays, and the thought of doing it tomorrow makes him feel like throwing up—
“Thursday,” Peter says, trying to inflect as much confidence into his voice as he can.
“Okay,” Tony says, voice still gentle. “Thursday it is.”
Group chat: golden trio 2.0
guy in the chair (4:51): good luck, peter!!!!
m to the j (4:52): good luck dude, don’t throw up on live tv
guy in the chair (4:52): MICHELLE
guy in the chair (4:52): don’t put that thought in his head!!
bug boy (4:53): TOO LATE
m to the j (4:53): OOF
m to the j (4:53): MY BAD
Bug boy (4:53): [Gif: Jake Peralta strumming a guitar and then screaming]
“You know,” May says, “you don’t have to do this if you’ve changed your mind.”
“Wh-what?” Peter clears his throat. “No, I haven’t changed my mind.”
May glances to where Rue has wedged herself under the empty wine rack, hackles raised. She looks like a feral cat that’s snuck in from the street, ready to maul anyone that gets close.
“Right,” May says.
Amira hops over to the wine rack. Rue tenses. She stays perfectly still when he starts to preen her fur through the metal slats.
“Peter,” May says, combing his hair back with her fingers. “Talk to me.”
“It’s just. It’s just a lot.” Peter takes a small sip of water. His throat is sandpaper-dry, but if he drinks anymore, he thinks he’ll throw it back up—while he’s on national TV. “I can’t believe this is real. I never thought I’d be here, doing this.”
“You said that when you were accepted for the Stark Internship, even though you weren’t exactly honest about that. And you said it when you won the science fair back in eight grade. You’re always doubting yourself. But you’ve always been capable of the impossible, Peter.”
May smiles, her hand still in his hair. Peter feels steadier than he has all day.
Rue crawls out from under the wine rack. He laughs at how tangled her fur is, and in retaliation, she shifts into a pigeon and flies onto his shoulder to mess up his hair. It’s ticklish. Peter laughs and squirms out of his seat.
“Okay, enough of that,” May says, shooing Rue away from Peter. She fixes Peter’s hair, even though his mask is going to mess it up again.
“May, I’ll be fine.”
“Yes,” she says. “You will be.”
Happy sticks his head into the green room, mastiff daemon at his feet. “You ready, Peter?”
Peter takes a deep breath. He made up his mind about this days ago. He can do this. He and Rue can do this.
“Yeah,” he says. “Ready.”
At Peter’s request, there are only a handful of reporters in front of a podium. They stand up straight when he enters, mask on.
Peter waves awkwardly. “Uh. Hi, everyone. Thanks for coming.”
Pepper has left a typed, 12 font speech on the podium for him. He scans it, makes a face at the detached tone. That’s not him.
He clears his throat. Wills his nerves down. “I’m just here to say that—I’m Spider-Man.” He laughs, waving at his masked face. “Obviously.”
He pulls Rue out of his collar and places her on the podium. She’s a peacock spider. Her bright colours stand out against the mahogany.
“This is Rue,” he says. “She’s my daemon. She hasn’t settled yet, but that’s okay. We’ll get there eventually.”
Rue scuttles onto the very edge of the table, where everyone can see her, and Peter’s breath catches. After years of hiding away, seeing her bask in attention like that …
Peter finds the strength to pull his mask off, and blinks at the sudden flash of cameras. He manages a nervous smile. “Let me try this again: hi, everyone. I’m Peter. Peter Parker. Pleased to meet you.”
The night after the press conference, May and Peter stay at Stark Tower. Peter curls under May’s arm like he’s twelve again, and they watch the Harry Potter movies from start to finish on Mr Stark’s giant flatscreen. Both their phones are turned off on the coffee table.
“May,” he murmurs, sometime into the third movie.
She brushes a curl off his forehead. “Yeah?”
“Do you think ...” Peter shuffles closer to her. On the couch cushion beside them, Rue shifts into a white rabbit and snuffles under Amira’s wing, the way she always did when they were small, even though she’s too big for that now. “Do you think Rue would have settled by now if I hadn’t become Spider-Man?”
“Maybe. Or maybe not. We can’t know what might have happened.” May sits up straighter. “Why? Are you having second thoughts? Just because you’ve revealed your identity doesn’t mean you have to keep being Spider-Man if you don’t want to—”
“No. That’s not it.” He thinks he’d die if he stopped. Or some part of him—something as real as Rue—would die. “Do—do you think she would have settled by now if Ben was alive?”
May’s voice is soft, driving into his heart like a stake. “Oh, Peter.”
He shakes his head. “And what about when she does settle? Would she have been something different if he was still here? Have we become different people without him?”
Are they leaving Ben behind? Growing and changing and being happy without him feels like a betrayal. Peter thinks back to Lucy and Rue, two saint bernards sleeping together in a patch of sunlight. And now, with Lucy gone, Rue will never get to be that again.
He glances at Amira and sees Rue’s snout poking out from beneath his feathers. And he knows Rue understands. She aches for Lucy and Ben too.
“Well,” May begins, choosing her words carefully. “We’re constantly growing. Everything we do and see, the choices we make—it changes us. Losing Ben is part of that. Grief is a part of that. But Peter, we’re not defined by the terrible things that happen to us. We’re not our trauma.”
“I don’t want to turn into someone Ben wouldn’t recognise.” Peter doesn’t realise he’s crying until he tries to breathe in and it gets caught in his throat. “I don’t want to stop being Ben’s kid.”
“Oh, baby. You’ll never stop being Ben’s kid. Or mine. No matter what happens, you’ll always be our Peter.” May tucks his head into her chest. Peter folds into her embrace, unable to keep himself upright. “We raised you. And Ben would be so proud of you. He’d be making ‘my son is Spider-Man’ t-shirts and wearing them into work.”
Peter laughs, wiping his wet face with his sleeve. He remembers Ben stealing Peter’s tests off the fridge and taking them into work to show off how smart his kid was. It always made him so embarrassed. Now, the memory aches like an old bruise.
“Rue will settle when she’s ready,” May says. “And whatever she becomes, she’ll still be Rue. Ben knew her. He loved her. And he always knew you two would grow up to be amazing.”
Onscreen, Harry is riding Buckbeak for the first time. They’ve stopped watching. This isn’t their first Harry Potter marathon and it won’t be their last.
“Thanks, May,” Peter says.
On the coffee table, their phones lay untouched. It doesn’t really matter what everyone says about him being Spider-Man. Or, it does, but Peter already has all the support he needs.
May runs her fingers through his hair. “Anytime, Peter.”
(51) New Messages
Ned (5:49): peter!!!! you did it!!! i’m so proud of you. i’m keeping an eye on the reactions online, but so far it all looks really positive!! lots of people at midtown are putting up messages of support too. i think mr harrington said he cried (with pride) so make of that what you will i guess
Ned (5:49): btw mj has been roasting our classmates and saying she figured it out years ago. but we both knew she was going to be smug
MJ (5:53): nice work. knew you could do it. you always have another option, spider-boy
MJ (5:53): our classmates are having a meltdown and it’s hilarious. flash has been radio-silent though. he’s probably busy having an existential crisis
MJ (5:53): also ned has been bragging about knowing since the beginning (which i know isn’t true anyway), but i guess we always knew he was going to be ridiculous about this
Johnny (6:01): Congrats, dude!!! I know that shit isn’t easy, but the scariest part is over. Now you and Rue HAVE to come flying with me and Madeline again!!
Mr Stark (6:10): Good job, kid. Get some rest. You and May can stay as long as long as you want.
Matt (6:41): Saw the press conference. It’s not the decision I would have made, but you’re an adult hero forging your own path now. I’m proud of you.
Matt (6:45): Foggy has been pale and mumbling to himself since he saw the conference. Did I miss something?
Flash (7:20): I’m sorry. Fuck, Parker. I’m sorry.
“So I was on r/vigilantes last night,” MJ begins.
Peter groans and throws himself back onto the bed, almost knocking into Pambe and Jasper. “MJ. Please. You’re killing me.”
“I still hate cape chasers,” MJ goes on, ignoring Peter, “but they’ve got some good points.”
“Not everyone on hero forums are cape chasers,” Ned says.
MJ levels Ned with an unimpressed look. “Tell me you wouldn’t give up your life savings for a date with Thor or Sue Storm.”
“That’s not being a cape chaser! That’s being a human being with eyes.”
“Oh, god,” Peter says, staring up at the water-marked ceiling. “Do people thirst over Spider-Man?”
Ned and MJ wince. That answers that question. Peter shifts onto his side so he can stare blankly at them. He has no idea what to do with this information.
MJ shoves him further up the bed so she can sit down. Peter can’t go far, considering their daemons are sprawled against the headrest. A wombat and a lynx, even when cuddled together, take up a considerable amount of room. Today, Rue is an elf owl, perched on Pambe’s back.
This is the third owl she’s been this week. Last week, she had been a dove, an albatross, and a cardinal. MJ has been trying to convince her to try out a larger breed, like a penguin or an ostrich, but Rue knows better than to listen to her.
MJ knocks their shoulders together. “I’m not talking about the cursed part of reddit. I’m talking about this.”
She shoves her phone under his nose. Peter sits up, squinting at the screen.
He flicks through a dozen different screenshots. They’re comments from r/vigilantes. There are tumblr posts, too. A few tweets. And all of them are about him, dated right after the press conference.
🍼 @chilledmilk
its been three days and i still cant believe spiderman is just like me
spiderman kin @prettykittylinn
I was so embarrassed to go to college next year with an unsettled daemon, but because of Spiderman, I don’t feel like a freak?? B/c now I’m not alone anymore?? I’m crying?
pink passion @peachfairychell
i had no idea other people settled so late?? the day after spiderman’s identity reveal, three people in my first-year course admitted to hiding unsettled daemons #themoreyouknow
Queen of the Sea @seadragon1012
My 16yo daughter started crying after she saw the news. She’s the only person in her class who hasn’t settled, and because of it, she always tries to hide her daemon when we go out. And now, someone just like her is a hero.
Thank you, Peter Parker.
“MJ,” Peter says weakly.
“We can see you moping,” MJ tells him, not unkind. “Get out of your own head, Parker, and accept that you’re a hero even when you’re not swinging about in spandex.”
He shakes his head, trying to ignore the way his eyes burn. “It’s not spandex.”
“It looks like spandex.”
“It does not.”
“Peter, I love you,” Ned says from the floor, where he’s still engrossed in their half-built lego enterprise, “but it totally looks like spandex.”
The next morning, Peter wakes up to the smell of charred pancakes. The smoke alarm screams, May starts swearing and frantically opening windows, and Peter rolls onto his back, scoops Rue up onto his chest, and thinks about going back to sleep.
Rue nips his fingers. “If we get up now, we could probably save the rest of the batter before she burns it.”
Peter shakes out his finger. The smoke alarm is still shrieking, though his spider-sense is quiet, which means the apartment isn’t about to go up in flames.
“I was out ‘til 2am. Let me sleep.”
“So was I,” Rue argues, “and I was flying the entire time. But I still want pancakes.”
“You didn’t have to be a bird. You could’ve just shifted into something else and let me do all the hard work.”
Rue goes quiet. The smoke alarm stops blaring.
He can hear May scraping the ruined pancakes into the bin. It must be lunchtime, because instead of reaching for the cereal, he hears the pop of plastic containers as May pulls out the leftover Chinese.
He can’t remember the last time he slept in this late. He hadn’t had any nightmares, either. He can’t remember the last time he slept so peacefully.
And, Peter thinks, staring at Rue, he can’t remember the last time Rue had shifted into something that wasn’t a bird.
He can’t remember how long she’s been this bird, either. But it’s been a while. A long while.
It feels right.
Peter sits up. Rue, perched in his cupped hands, ruffles her wings, showing off her bright blue plumage. Her chest is orange. It reminds him of early mornings in winter, of the sun blooming between storm clouds, of the promise of spring and the lure of the sky.
For ten years, he thought Rue would settle into a saint bernard. And then, in the years after Ben’s death, they spent their days hoping she would settle into something easily missed, easily hidden—a bug or a spider or even a common garden snake.
He never imagined she would be a bluebird.
Rue tucks her wings close, suddenly shy. “Do you hate it?”
“No,” Peter says. “No, I don’t hate it.”
He scrambles out of bed and into the kitchen, where the stench of burnt pancakes lingers. May looks up from her left-overs.
“Morning, Peter. Or should I say afternoon?”
He takes a seat beside May. Rue hops down onto the table. Amira checks her over, as though he can sense something is different about her. They’re almost the same size. His feathers are speckled brown, orange below his eyes, unlike Rue’s deep and unmistakable blue.
But they’re both birds. They’re both small, and splattered with orange, and Peter thinks about Lucy, laying by the entry, guarding the front door.
He spent so long thinking about the saint bernard that she would never be, and forgot about the house swallow in front of him.
“Peter,” May says tentatively, “Is something wrong?”
“She settled,” Peter says. “Rue settled.”
May drops her fork. It clatters into her food, spraying rice across the table.
Rue jumps onto his hand and ruffles her feathers. In the natural midday light, she looks so beautiful.
Peter is almost eighteen. Even though he had been thinking about this day all his life, longing for it and dreading it in equal measures, he never truly thought it would come.
“She’s in eastern bluebird,” Peter says without having to research it. He just knows, instinctively.
“Oh, baby,” May says. “She’s beautiful.”
Peter touches Rue carefully, like this is the first time he’s ever seen her. He knows, without having to ask her, that her days of hiding under his sleeves or in his pockets are behind them.