spiderman2-99

[spiderman2-99]

More Mig more problems

[spiderman2-99]

[MORE useless Miguel headcanons while I procrastinate: relationship edition]

[I promise I'm still working on writing thread responses... just very slowly]

if Miguel were ever in capital L love again, he'd be a goddamn wreck. "genuinely contemplating suicide" levels of emotionally bulldozed; torn between wanting to finally keep one good thing in his life vs knowing he doesnt deserve good things. knowing that every time he tries, it goes to shit, no matter how hard he holds on with talons and claws and desperation.

plus just…, having someone totally disarm him like that, making his heart beat again and his thoughts race and his hands shake, after spending so long living and thinking of himself and making himself an unfeeling work machine-- it'd be a lot at once to handle. he's not supposed to feel things like this. it'll undermine him. it'll be exploited. it's weak.

but he's just not not selfish enough to quash it, to cut whoever he'd be in love with out, because for once, for fucking once, he feels something other than vague numbness or anger or grief or a sense of duty.

he feels human. and he could almost delude himself into believing he's human enough to have it.

Miguel's not big on physical affection (gets overstimulated, easily, can feel stifled, touch repulsed, has a very short list in his head of who're Allowed to touch him), but if you actually manage to get close enough to him for him to cuddle you, he's… very shy about asking and initiating

because it's stupid, he feels stupid, too needy, he hates it when people are clingy so why would he try to look clingy back so he does the fuckin. cat thing where he awkwardly lingers around pretending he doesn't want attention but he actually really does

that being said, when he hugs you or holds on, he buries his face into your neck bc he feels Safe and Small like that

compare hand sizes with him and he might actually die inside

he doesn't have much of a physical preference but I think he'd prefer a taller (or honestly just Not hobbit height) partner; meat on their bones preferable too. doesn't like feeling like he'd snap them like a twig💀

isnt always physically (and sometimes emotionally) available w his job, i think we all know how he is with words, not really very physically affectionate (he hates being touched actually)… so both platonically and romantically, he'd fall to acts of service.

you know that "I love how a man loves" post? like that.

[spiderman2-99]

[forgot abt tumblr 🫩]

[spiderman2-99]

Miguel cringes when Peter’s hands land on his shoulder, and doubly so when he doubles over and retches into the trash can in his hands. He feels queasy enough that the smell of it makes his gut roil, so he turns away with a grimace and his heart in his stomach.

He’s never been very good at taking care of sick or hurt people-- usually ends with him getting yelled at for making it worse, and he's been yelled at enough tonight, thank you very much.

Once he's (pretty sure) the other man is done, he turns back, though he can't quite look him in the eye.

He doesn’t know what’s worse right now, to be honest. The mess of a conversation they just had or Peter drunkenly yelling himself till he's sick on the floor.

(Not that Miguel's gonna delude himself that he's the pinnacle of dignity right now, given he's knelt on the floor with him after just having a shocking temper tantrum.)

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair with a wince. “Don't worry. You can- you can blame the tequila." A joyless chuckle. "God knows I will too.”

After that, he waits a good minute for Peter to gather himself. The older man doesn't look... mad at him, still, or like he's about to vomit again, or try to get up and run and brain himself on some sharp corner.

That's... that's good. Probably.

"Think you'll be able to get home in...?" a vague hand gesture to Peter's direction.

*Peter punches in the coordinates of the spider society headquarters into his iPortal watch and sighs heavily. It's been a long time since he was here- that last time, in fact, was chasing Miles through it.*

*God. Poor Miles. Poor everyone. Patel, Gwen, the other people who lost people because Peter and Miguel wouldn't help them. It twists his stomach to walk through the portal, but there's always something in him that wants to lean into that anxiety and fear, to chase the danger that he knows is waiting when he steps through.*

*So he does. He steps through. And calls into the cavernous darkness of Mr. Creepy's office.*

Ah. Hello? Miguel, you around?

@spiderman2-99

[spiderman2-99]

Just like that, concern and panic overtake everything else. "Shock!"

Despite the anger, the hurt, the alcohol, the everything, his heart leaps into his throat when he sees Peter lurch forward. He scrambles to get up on his feet, the world spinning a little himself, before straightening.

“Wait, no, just--” Miguel’s hands fly up to brace his shoulders on instinct, but he just manages to stop himself just in time before any real contact is made. He just settles for a 'stop' gesture that he hopes didn't look too rushed or stilted.

“Don’t go anywhere, pendejo, you- you’re gonna puke all over my floor.”

It's with a speed that leaves his own head spinning dangerously that he's knelt on the ground for the waste bin beneath his desk, then his spine is straightened up and he's shoving it in the older man's range of fire.

Whatever. He'll put a pin in this conversation for later-- preferably never, if, God willing, Peter forgets about it after a good, long hangover.

*Peter punches in the coordinates of the spider society headquarters into his iPortal watch and sighs heavily. It's been a long time since he was here- that last time, in fact, was chasing Miles through it.*

*God. Poor Miles. Poor everyone. Patel, Gwen, the other people who lost people because Peter and Miguel wouldn't help them. It twists his stomach to walk through the portal, but there's always something in him that wants to lean into that anxiety and fear, to chase the danger that he knows is waiting when he steps through.*

*So he does. He steps through. And calls into the cavernous darkness of Mr. Creepy's office.*

Ah. Hello? Miguel, you around?

@spiderman2-99

[spiderman2-99]

Ну скетчик пятиминутный???

[spiderman2-99]

[spiderman2-99]

Well. That makes Miguel snap his trap shut.

Khonshu doesn't rise to his obvious poking. Instead, Miguel's left off-kilter, squirming under the weight of the question like a child caught doing something he's not supposed to do by the looming shadow of his parents.

The thing is, the god isn’t wrong. Miguel is, if nothing else, a scientist, and right now, he’s facing down an anomaly on a scale he's never seen before. One who's sitting on the rooftop of the Spider Society Headquarters with him, chatting in some shocked approximation of familiarity, wanting communication with him. At all times. At any point. No barriers, no restrictions, nothing holding him back. Anywhere. Any place. Anywhere.

Nevermind the unsaid 'yet' floating between them-- a threat and a promise in one; as if having true faith were as simple as an on-and-off switch Miguel just had to find, lest Khonshu find it for him.

God, that's just too much to take in. All of this is, really.

"No, I just..." he sighs, rubbing a hand across his face. He's honestly getting too worn-down to even bother with any sort of argument.

Still, let it never be said Miguel O’Hara passed up the opportunity to be a stubborn ass.

"It's- it's not the same thing," he insists. "That's observation, not... not playing. Studying." As if the god were nothing more than a cryptic mystery to unravel, an equation to solve, a formula to test.

The same could be said for the half-arachnid between them, too.

[@templeofvengeance]

It has been some time, O'Hara.

I was not informed you had returned. How nice that you did not perish. The chaos that would have caused in the Society... Encouraging, that it's at least temporarily able to function in your absence. I'm not sure I expected that.

Do you ever step outside, except to battle anomalies?

It would be easier to see you, under my holy moonlight.

With a slight start, Miguel grunts, wiping his hand across his face-- feeling the last vestiges of a barely-restful nap fade away from his body.

When had he fallen asleep? One moment he was doing some much needed work on the Spider-Society's servers, the next he… well. Woke up to a dark office with the only light source being the swarm of holoscreens still left on.

Rubbing his eyes, Miguel glances around, groaning softly at the crick in his neck and his stiff back. He's getting too old to be falling asleep at his desk. But, well, he's up now. And... of all things, one of the screens signals a new message on his godforsaken blog.

...

What.

No. No way. He- he must be having some sort of mental break, or he's so sleep-deprived that he's hallucinating-- which logically won't happen for at least another day and a half-- because.

Shocking what? Is- is that Khonshu? The same god that seems to stalk him intermittently around HQ. That shouldn't exist. Ever. Much less send a-- who is he kidding; this isn't even the weirdest thing to happen to him in a month.

He doesn't reply-- in fact, he barely even skims over it. But... the last couple lines do stick with him. He hasn't been outside for anything other than battle in a while.

It's not because a god suggested it, he tells himself, as he takes the elevator up. It's just because they both happened to think it, he continues, as he makes his way up to the very top of the building; pushing up on a skylight. It's because he needs to breathe something other than stale office air.

The moon shines brightly over Nueva York tonight.

Perhaps most so, over the lone figure, navy blue and red so stark against the white of the building, sitting there, letting the crisp night wind run through his hair and the unfiltered sounds of the city fill his ears.

For the first time in a while, Miguel feels... at ease.

[spiderman2-99]

Miguel swears his heart had to have skipped a beat just then. Or maybe full on stopped. The answer is so simple, so straightforward, that it barely even registers as an actual answer.

The idea-- no, the fact that he's undeniably important enough to warrant this sort of attention, much less the concern... it just sounds wrong. Why should Khonshu care about him, or his well-being, or the fact that he was stuck in another dimension, or whether his prayers or answered?

After all, for all Miguel does, in the grand scheme of things, he is just a grain of sand; every bit a bitter, weary, worn-down, insignificant man. One with the burden of hundreds of universes with trillions of lives on his shoulders. One who's made too many shitty choices, some of them he can't even justify for the greater good anymore. One who drinks too much and goes a bit insane when he thinks about his daughter too long. One who pushes away people with the grace of a bulldozer.

And yet, of all things, of all beings, Khonshu's here, is he not? Had been via stalking the place for months. Arguably with... semi-similar goals and motives in mind: protection of the masses. Getting their hands dirty for the sake of the greater good. Being constantly overlooked and overwhelmed and--

He should probably be worried that he's relating to a god.

"You--" he fumbles for an embarrassingly long moment, mind scrambling for how he's supposed to respond to this.

"You're intrigued." He repeats the word out loud, as if to test the feel of it, and it tastes like bitter realization on his tongue.

"You're... so, what, you're playing with me?" Miguel's voice does creak now. "I'm a curiosity?"

Not that he expected better. He shouldn't have.

He did.

[@templeofvengeance]

It has been some time, O'Hara.

I was not informed you had returned. How nice that you did not perish. The chaos that would have caused in the Society... Encouraging, that it's at least temporarily able to function in your absence. I'm not sure I expected that.

Do you ever step outside, except to battle anomalies?

It would be easier to see you, under my holy moonlight.

With a slight start, Miguel grunts, wiping his hand across his face-- feeling the last vestiges of a barely-restful nap fade away from his body.

When had he fallen asleep? One moment he was doing some much needed work on the Spider-Society's servers, the next he… well. Woke up to a dark office with the only light source being the swarm of holoscreens still left on.

Rubbing his eyes, Miguel glances around, groaning softly at the crick in his neck and his stiff back. He's getting too old to be falling asleep at his desk. But, well, he's up now. And... of all things, one of the screens signals a new message on his godforsaken blog.

...

What.

No. No way. He- he must be having some sort of mental break, or he's so sleep-deprived that he's hallucinating-- which logically won't happen for at least another day and a half-- because.

Shocking what? Is- is that Khonshu? The same god that seems to stalk him intermittently around HQ. That shouldn't exist. Ever. Much less send a-- who is he kidding; this isn't even the weirdest thing to happen to him in a month.

He doesn't reply-- in fact, he barely even skims over it. But... the last couple lines do stick with him. He hasn't been outside for anything other than battle in a while.

It's not because a god suggested it, he tells himself, as he takes the elevator up. It's just because they both happened to think it, he continues, as he makes his way up to the very top of the building; pushing up on a skylight. It's because he needs to breathe something other than stale office air.

The moon shines brightly over Nueva York tonight.

Perhaps most so, over the lone figure, navy blue and red so stark against the white of the building, sitting there, letting the crisp night wind run through his hair and the unfiltered sounds of the city fill his ears.

For the first time in a while, Miguel feels... at ease.

[spiderman2-99]

[spiderman2-99]

Miguel bristles. He’s seen Peter drop that jokey dad façade and get serious before. He's seen him get properly angry several times before. That’s nothing new.

He’s not had that anger directed at him in a long time. Not since...

It takes a good, long moment to register what he just revealed, and what the other man's really saying. He barely even realized he brought up Miles, the way he ran his mouth faster than his tequila-soaked brain. The heat drains from Miguel’s system, leaving him fumbling and off-kilter in a way he loathes.

“... I-- I had to. You don’t understand--”

But how can he justify it anymore? What can he say? When that whole damn theory came about because he needed a way to wash his hands of the blood of trillions? Because he, who's supposed to be a man of science and data and cold, hard facts, wrongfully assumed that any deviation in a totem's life would wreak the same consequences?

His breathing is a little more ragged now. Because that is just too big of a realization to handle right now; too much of everything he doesn’t want to face. He's far too exposed, too agitated, too vulnerable for such an intense conversation.

There's a lot Miguel wants to say. A lot of things he wants to justify. And it’s not like he ever expected for Peter to forgive what he'd done, much less, God forbid, go back to what they were, but... it doesn't soften the punch in the gut when he just throws it back at him.

“I never wanted to be the bad guy,” Miguel replies, voice low and harsh. “I was doing what needed to be done! I did what- what I thought was right.”

No. That's a cop out. It started because of him. No matter what he says, he's just going to get a volatile reaction out of Peter anyways.

*Peter punches in the coordinates of the spider society headquarters into his iPortal watch and sighs heavily. It's been a long time since he was here- that last time, in fact, was chasing Miles through it.*

*God. Poor Miles. Poor everyone. Patel, Gwen, the other people who lost people because Peter and Miguel wouldn't help them. It twists his stomach to walk through the portal, but there's always something in him that wants to lean into that anxiety and fear, to chase the danger that he knows is waiting when he steps through.*

*So he does. He steps through. And calls into the cavernous darkness of Mr. Creepy's office.*

Ah. Hello? Miguel, you around?

@spiderman2-99

[spiderman2-99]

[spiderman2-99]

꧂

[spiderman2-99]

Miguel

[spiderman2-99]

At first contact, Miguel inhales sharply through his nose; fingers twitching without volition beneath the touch, muffled as it is through the wrappings on the god's hand. A prickly sort of warmth blooms in his hand and ebbs, traveling down his spine like lighting down a storm conductor, and it takes everything in him not to recoil.

It's the magic, Miguel tells himself frantically, forcing his muscles to unlock. It's just the magic.

He barely even registers Khonshu's words over the pounding between his ears; gazing at where the shape was with a nearly uncomprehending expression, before drawing his arm back to himself and running a finger over where the crescent was, practically expecting the glowing crescent to have left a brand.

Nothing. Just felt like one.

He can almost feel the god's fingers on his skin though, and isn't that a thought and a half?

Then his brain finally processes what he said-- a blessing, so he'd always hear him-- and his eyes flicker back up.

A blessing. A blessing from a god. This is so beyond anything he'd ever been through, anything in his life, shocked up as it is. He's waiting for the other shoe to drop; for Khonshu to add some hidden clause or price or something... and he's met with the moonlight glinting off the impassive bird skull.

It takes Miguel a while to finally speak, his throat clicking a little too loudly in the silence that descended, and when he does, it sounds like he'd been screaming for hours.

"Why?" he rasps out, "why are you doing this? Why me?"

[@templeofvengeance]

It has been some time, O'Hara.

I was not informed you had returned. How nice that you did not perish. The chaos that would have caused in the Society... Encouraging, that it's at least temporarily able to function in your absence. I'm not sure I expected that.

Do you ever step outside, except to battle anomalies?

It would be easier to see you, under my holy moonlight.

With a slight start, Miguel grunts, wiping his hand across his face-- feeling the last vestiges of a barely-restful nap fade away from his body.

When had he fallen asleep? One moment he was doing some much needed work on the Spider-Society's servers, the next he… well. Woke up to a dark office with the only light source being the swarm of holoscreens still left on.

Rubbing his eyes, Miguel glances around, groaning softly at the crick in his neck and his stiff back. He's getting too old to be falling asleep at his desk. But, well, he's up now. And... of all things, one of the screens signals a new message on his godforsaken blog.

...

What.

No. No way. He- he must be having some sort of mental break, or he's so sleep-deprived that he's hallucinating-- which logically won't happen for at least another day and a half-- because.

Shocking what? Is- is that Khonshu? The same god that seems to stalk him intermittently around HQ. That shouldn't exist. Ever. Much less send a-- who is he kidding; this isn't even the weirdest thing to happen to him in a month.

He doesn't reply-- in fact, he barely even skims over it. But... the last couple lines do stick with him. He hasn't been outside for anything other than battle in a while.

It's not because a god suggested it, he tells himself, as he takes the elevator up. It's just because they both happened to think it, he continues, as he makes his way up to the very top of the building; pushing up on a skylight. It's because he needs to breathe something other than stale office air.

The moon shines brightly over Nueva York tonight.

Perhaps most so, over the lone figure, navy blue and red so stark against the white of the building, sitting there, letting the crisp night wind run through his hair and the unfiltered sounds of the city fill his ears.

For the first time in a while, Miguel feels... at ease.

[spiderman2-99]

Torso.  Park Seungwan Korean (Busan, 1986) marble. http://hadrian6.tumblr.com

[spiderman2-99]

And now they will fear you.