#but can you blame me. normal is SUCH a bland look on this man. like on HIM. especially him. him in particular

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

orome's tolkien wiki page having zero mention of celegorm while celegorm's page has eight entire mentions of orome is kind of sending me. like i full well know realistically it's just because some elves tend to have one quasi-"patron" valar whose domain their talents lie heavily within, while there would be no such limitation on the valar, but my brain is conjuring up some lopsided dynamic that's like orome going "yes celegorm and i were close, unfortunate how things broke down :(" meanwhile celegorm in beleriand has mental breakdowns every few fiscal years about how he's deserted his values as a follower of orome and he knows in his heart how far he's fallen and a part of him hates orome for what he (knows he) irrationally perceives as abandonment and he just goes through extremely Not Normal feelings about his severed connection with the vala of the hunt on a semi-regular basis

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part Nine

Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader

Summary: You spend the weekend looking after Miguel after his encounter with the Green Goblin.

Word Count: 22,193 (I saw the word count at 16K on Friday and my face was literally the second photo on this post after I remembered saying in the last update that the remaining chapters wouldn't exceed that part's word count. I'm sorry if this hard to read because of the length, by the way. I thought of splitting it and doing two parts (9A & 9B) but... I'm just going with this.)

Warnings: Mention of dry blood; Mention of wounds; Mention of syringe; Bland hospital food; Miguel is a bit grumpy at times but who can blame him?; This chapter really shows how I'd look after Miguel if he was hurt, my simpness for Miguel jumped out a lot in this one

Music inspo while writing:

"First Date" - Bill Conti

"Near Town" - The Amazing Broken Man

"Feels Like We Only Go Backwards" - Imaginary Future (cover)

"Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, A$AP Rocky, 21 Savage

"Mia & Sebastian's Theme (Celeste)" - Justin Hurwitz

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten |

Part Nine

Miguel whispers your name, and it takes everything in you to hold back tears as relief washes over you. Your heart races but in a different way than it did hours ago when you were desperately trying to find him. It’s now racing from happiness that he’s awake.

“Miguel,” you whisper with a gentle smile, standing next to him.

Miguel’s eyes flutter close for a few seconds before he opens them again, his gaze meeting yours.

“Calling…” he mumbles. “Me.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but you nod regardless. “It’s okay, Miguel. You’re doing good. You’ll recover soon, I promise,” you tell him gently. “Are you cold?” you ask, as you look down at the blanket you placed on him earlier after he was declared in stable condition again.

You feel a shiver run down your back as you hear the medical professionals’ voices in your head, repeating that they were losing Miguel. You close your eyes tightly for a few seconds and will those thoughts away. You can’t take it. You open them again and look at Miguel.

“Are you cold?” you ask again, pulling the blanket higher up his body.

“Stay…” he mumbles, closing his eyes again.

You stare at him, heart aching. You swallow the knot in your throat.

“I’ll – I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” you whisper, gently fixing the blanket to cover him. “I’ll stay.”

Miguel nods slowly and in a few seconds he’s asleep again. Tears roll down your face for the third time in only a few hours. You softly wipe them away with the back of your suited hand. You take a step back and release another shaky breath, feeling the knot in your throat grow. You turn away from him, pressing your hand to your mouth as you stare at the wall.

Ever since you woke up, you’ve felt every imaginable emotion in the span of a few hours. You feel emotionally tired, but don’t dare rest, especially after what happened. After losing him.

You take a deep breath as tears flow freely down your face, but you find it difficult to do so for a few seconds. It’s as if you’ve been holding back this entire time and you just can’t hold back the tears anymore, causing you to feel like you’re unable to even breathe. And of course, it’s a familiar feeling. One you’ve only ever felt with Peter’s death. You furiously wipe away your tears, but they keep falling, blurring your vision.

You finally turn back to Miguel, still crying. His relaxed sleeping face brings you comfort, helping you breathe normally again. You sigh deeply as you take a closer step and watch over him again, tears still flowing. You feel the urge to touch him, almost as if to make sure he really is there and it’s not just your imagination playing tricks. You tentatively lay a hand over his arm, layers of fabric preventing skin to skin contact but it still brings you comfort and peace.

Miguel is here and alive. His chest rises and falls softly. His heart rate is displayed on the heart monitor. You can hear his soft breathing. And you can feel his body’s warmth, which comforts you, as you remember how cold his skin felt even through your suit when you found him on that rooftop.

Miguel is alive.

You keep repeating this in your head as you stand next to him, your hand still over his arm. It seems to help you calm down and your tears slow down until they eventually cease, leaving your face feeling puffy and damp but you could care less right now. All you care about is that Miguel is alive.

That your friend is alive.

You stand near the bed for a while. You don’t know how much time goes by. The nurses come in and check on Miguel occasionally, finding you near the bed each time like a guardian. All the while, Miguel sleeps peacefully. He shifts ever so gently but he’s not restless anymore. You eventually take a seat on your chair again, feeling exhausted but unable to take even a fifteen-minute nap. You feel as though you must guard every second. Just in case. You do cover your body with a blanket one of the nurses brought you earlier, warming yourself up as the room is cold. You also fix a pillow they gave you to support your back and then you sit there and watch over Miguel.

You don’t even find it in yourself to use the tablet Ben Reilly brought you earlier. It lies abandoned on the table in the family area of the room. You simply sit there, watching over Miguel and occasionally looking towards the windows. The sky is grey and gloomy, but brighter now. The rain is still there, making you wonder if it’ll stick around all day. The pit pat of rain against the windows is heard through the room along with the heart monitor’s quiet beeping but your ears focus on one thing only and that’s Miguel’s even and gentle breathing.

As you listen to it, while gazing at him, your mind reminds you of the fact that for a few minutes, his breathing ceased. You see his unmoving chest in your mind suddenly; his body was completely still. He was gone. And for the second time in your life, you felt so helpless as you stood there, repeating “No” inside your mind. You remember saying his name, calling out to him. You wanted to take hold of him and beg him not to give up. Not now. You thought of his family, and though you fleetingly thought you had no right to, you prayed that if they were out there somewhere, that they’d tell him to come back because… you couldn’t bear the thought of him dying. You couldn’t bear the thought that this man, with so much life still ahead of him, could really be gone just like that. And then it happened. The medical team resuscitated him. His chest began to move, and the heart monitor started to display his heartbeat again. He was alive. He didn’t give up.  

And it felt like you yourself could finally breath again as you thanked his late wife, Gabriel, and sweet Gabriella, for you don’t know what you would’ve done if… you can’t even think about it. What would life be like without Miguel? It’s about to be a year since you joined the Spider Society and so much has changed since then. You never guessed Miguel would be a constant in your life the first time you met him. He was so serious and distant. His mind was far away as he gave you a simple and cold welcome before he walked off, carrying the weight of the multiverse on top of an array of emotions on his shoulders that you could’ve never imagined he was dealing with.

You shake your head softly, almost in disbelief. It’s amazing how much can happen in one year. You went from knowing very little about Miguel to now knowing about his brother and mother, about his short time with Gabriella and his wife, to sharing cake on Peter’s birthday and eating conchas and candy on Dia de los Muertos to designing Christmas ornaments and welcoming the new year at his penthouse.

And it all started that day you felt so unwell due to your period. You find yourself wondering if any of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for that day. And the possibility that none of it would’ve happened makes you thankful for that day, even if you were in pain and discomfort because it led to something you never imagined.

Though you still have no idea how Miguel feels about your interactions, you consider him a close friend. You chat with him and Lyla when you organize the lab. You talk before the meetings start over coffee. You’ve gone on more missions with him than some of the members who joined before you have. You take him lunch sometimes when you head to the lab to organize it, and he happily accepts the empanadas, which you’ve learned are definitely a favorite of his. After the holidays, you’ve made him smile more and even earned yourself low chuckles, both a nonexistent sight and sound for everyone else.

And yet, neither of you have said it yet; that you’re friends. So, it’s up in the air between the two of you for now but you’re okay with it. You know it’ll be a while before Miguel admits it if he thinks of you as a friend, too. And you’ll hold back from saying it for as long as you can for his sake.

You sigh deeply and try to clear your thoughts before you check the time. It’s now past 8 A.M.. When you returned home from Peter and Mary Jane’s universe, you never expected the night to take such a turn. It seems unbelievable.

You went to sleep peacefully, under your warm bed sheets in the same bed you shared with Peter. You were tired and sleepy, and found sleep easily only to be awakened by your spider senses, alerting you something was wrong.

As you stare at Miguel’s face, this simple fact hangs over you. Your spider senses went off because of him despite being in completely different universes. You bring a hand to your temple, wondering how that’s even possible, but you don’t have much time to think about it as the room’s door opens. You turn around and find Jess and Peter. You get up quickly, pushing the blanket off you and turn to face them.

With everything that happened and your emotions a wreck, you never notified them about Miguel’s heart failing but when you look at them, you see it on their faces. There’s pain in their expressions as they scan your face, which shows signs of crying and exhaustion, and their expressions soften.

“Oh Y/N…”  Peter whispers softly, before he quickly approaches, pulling you in for a hug.

You let him hold you in his arms and hug him back. You close your eyes for a few seconds, feeling overwhelmed but reassured at the same time now that they’re here.

“The medical team told us what happened,” Jess begins as she watches Peter and you embrace each other.

Peter lets go gently, though he wraps an arm around your shoulders, making you feel comforted. You give him a sad smile. Peter was the second person you were introduced to when you were first recruited, Miguel being the first one. And once you were accepted, you were introduced to Peter, who immediately presented you to his group of friends and well, the rest is history now. There are times in which it feels like Peter looks over you as some kind of parent because of the age gap. And it’s exactly how he’s looking at you right now after learning what you went through on your own.

“Y/N… I’m so sorry you were here alone,” Jess says gently. “I never thought…”

For once, the second in command of the Spider Society seems at a loss for words. You nod slowly.

“I don’t think any of us expected that… He was in stable condition already,” you answer softly as your eyes return to Miguel. “It just happened out of nowhere…” you add trailing off, briefly taken back to those minutes.

Jess nods and brings a hand to her temple, feeling an ache after the long night. The news of Miguel briefly passing away only added to it, but she feels a sense of relief as she joins you and Peter in watching Miguel sleep peacefully. Miguel is alive. 

You feel Jess’s hand on your forearm, making you turn. She gives you a pained smile.

“I wish someone else would’ve been here with you. I know it must’ve been – hard,” she says solemnly, knowing about Peter’s death and what a toll it’s taken on you in so many ways from leaving you with no family or friends. She feels a pang in her chest for you, for she never imagined you’d see death again today.

You give her a reassuring smile. “I wish so, too, but all that matters now is that Miguel is in stable condition. He’s been sleeping peacefully,” you say as you take a step closer, motioning for them to join you, tugging Peter along with you as his arm is still around your shoulders. “He woke up a little while ago, it was just for a few seconds before he fell asleep again though,” you share but don’t mention that Miguel asked you to stay.

The three of you watch Miguel sleep quietly for a few minutes. It’s a strange sight to see Miguel O’Hara’s face so peaceful and though no one says it, none of you can help but feel heartbroken that it took this to see it.

Jess clears her throat, nodding and feeling relieved that Miguel is well now. All that is left is recovering from his injuries. She stares at him for a few seconds, feeling a little in disbelief now. She’s always warned him about heading out on missions alone at night, but she never thought something like this would happen. She’s just glad that… you found him. That fact comes back to her mind. The last hours have been spent figuring out how to get the system back in order and then directing members to find the anomalies that Miguel was dealing with, but it comes back to her at this moment when things seem to have settled a bit. She wanted to ask earlier when Miguel was first transported but she knew it wasn’t the time to ask.

She turns to you now, seeing that you’re still in your suit. Your hair is a bit of a mess after the search and the rain when you took your mask off to shield Miguel’s face from it, another gesture Jess noticed on top of you giving him your gizmo. Jess decides to put her curiosity aside. For now.

“You should go home. Change clothes or shower,” Jess says, making you turn.

“Thank you but – ” you start, and she raises a hand.

“Please,” your mentor says softly. “Peter and I’ll stay here while you go. Get a bag ready with clothes and toiletries for the next two days or so. Miguel has some recovery to do, and I trust you to do your duties as my third in command,” she continues. “Which includes sticking around with him while Peter and I lead the Spider Society in his place. If there’s one thing I know about Miguel, it’s that he’s stubborn and he’ll try to wave this whole thing over despite what happened. I think we all agree he’ll need to take it easy, and I trust you’ll help me with that.”

You stare at Jess and finally nod. “Yes, okay… I’ll be back shortly then.”

She nods. “We’ll let you know if something changes.”

You reluctantly leave the room but not before you take one last glance at Miguel.

“Stay…” he said earlier, and you promised you would.

You hurry and leave the infirmary sector, wanting to be back as soon as possible. In about twenty minutes, you shower and dress in normal clothes before you prepare a small travel bag with everything you think you might need. As you’re heading back to the infirmary sector, you notice there are a lot of members at HQ today despite it being Saturday and members having the weekends off, unless there’s some kind of emergency. However, the Spider Society’s HQ is buzzing like it’s Monday, and you connect it to what happened.

You’re surprised once again when you enter the infirmary sector. There are now a lot of balloons, flowers, cards, and baskets with snacks in the waiting area. When you approach the items, a nurse informs you that members have been dropping them off for Miguel. You smile softly as you look at everything, deciding that once you check on Miguel and talk to Jess, you’ll take everything to his room.

When you enter the room, you find Jess and Peter murmuring by the windows. Their conversation immediately ceases before they turn around to face you. You notice there’s now a table next to them with food and cups of coffee. You turn back to them. Peter gives you a nervous smile, making you feel like you were the topic of discussion. You ignore it and walk further into the room, gently placing your travel bag on one of the chairs in the family area of the room, your eyes already on Miguel. He's still asleep.

“How is he?” you ask, walking closer to the bed.

“No change. He’s been sleeping the entire time,” Peter says stepping closer to the bed now, leaving Jess by the windows.

“I had someone bring breakfast,” she says. “I think we all need some food.”

“And coffee,” Peter adds with a sigh, making you turn to see him.

You notice for the first time that your friends also look tired. It really has been a long night for everyone. You yourself feel exhausted now. It’s like your shower made every ache in your body known and as you look at the food, you feel hunger, too. 

The three of you take a seat at the table, everyone reaching for a cup of coffee first before anything else. You eat breakfast, stealing glances at Miguel often. It’s like you’re still trying to make sure he’s there and that nothing’s going wrong. Breakfast is silent as the three of you look out the windows, deep in thought.

It's about twenty minutes later that you finish eating. Peter excuses himself to check on Mary Jane and Mayday, stating he’ll be back shortly. He leaves but not before giving you a reassuring smile on his way out, leaving you and Jess alone. The two of you stand by the windows, looking out at the city. You take a glance at Miguel. He hasn’t shifted in his sleep at all, and he looks peaceful.  

Jess stands next to you, arms crossed over her chest, thinking. She doesn’t fail to notice your glances at Miguel, much like those during breakfast. And of course, there’s one pending question on her mind. After a few minutes of silence, she finally speaks up.

“How did you know?” she asks quietly, still staring out the windows.

Your gaze lands on a nearby skyscraper as you hear her question. You know exactly what she’s talking about and even though you wish you could pretend you have no idea what she’s referring to, you know neither of you have the time nor energy to play this game.

After a minute or so of silence, you sigh deeply. “I don’t know,” you answer honestly, causing Jess to look at you slowly.

She watches you as you stare out the windows, and she can tell from your expression and tone of voice that you genuinely have no idea. You sigh again.

“I don’t know how I knew… I was awakened by my spider senses,” you begin and tell her everything that happened up until she joined the search.

Her gaze is on distant cars as she hears you explain everything, occasionally nodding softly. It makes no sense.

“You also knew where to find him,” she says after you’re done. “I would’ve never thought Miguel would be there, considering we knew he was injured,” she adds, thinking about how you seemed certain about his location, not to mention the way you reached the building. It was as if your life itself depended on it.

Your gaze is still fixed on the skyscraper as she brings up this fact. “On the first mission I joined you guys, we went there – to get a layout of the city since it was my first time visiting that universe. It seemed that he liked the view. I guess, amid everything, I thought he would like to see it again,” you quietly murmur.

Jess nods, thinking. Your spider senses alarmed you that something was wrong, and it was Miguel, who was in another universe, in trouble. She knows it’s possible, she just doesn’t know how. She remembers the events from a year ago when Miles ended up stranded in that same universe, and Gwen realized it thanks to her spider senses, too. Now the two are a thing. Of course, Jess isn’t thinking that you and Miguel have a thing going on, but it does signify something to Jess.

You and Miguel have a connection, and it’s strong enough that you were able to sense his trouble even across the multiverse.

“It’s unexplainable but it might have just saved Miguel’s life,” she says eventually after a few seconds of silence, deciding to keep her thoughts about your connection to Miguel to herself. Instead, she changes the conversation to the anomalies Miguel was pursuing. They’ve been caught and sent back to their respective universes. She also notifies you that other members will be taking shifts patrolling your universe while you’re here with Miguel.

Jess sticks around for a little while longer before she heads out to attend to her duties. Once she heads out, you take the time to bring everything left in the waiting room for Miguel into the room, placing it in the family area so that he’ll see it once he wakes up. The hours go by slowly, and you eventually grab the tablet Ben Reilly brought you earlier. You reach out to your friends, who have been asking about you and Miguel’s status. You even reach out to Jess eventually, asking if you can help with anything else but she declines, and so you stay put. You watch over Miguel, fixing his blanket when he moves to make sure he doesn’t get cold.

It's until later in the afternoon that he begins to stir once again. You’re standing by the windows when you notice and quickly cross the short distance between the windows and the bed, standing by his side immediately. Miguel’s eyebrows furrow as he moves his head against the pillows gently. He hums softly as his eyes slowly flutter, and you’re unable to stop yourself from finding him endearing and tender in this moment.

His eyes open at last and he looks around the room slowly, trying to place his surroundings until his gaze lands on you. You offer him a small smile as he blinks a few times at you.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Y/N…” he says trailing off, closing his eyes for a second before opening them again.

“How do you feel?” you ask, studying his face for any signs of trouble but Miguel looks in good condition.

“I feel a little dizzy,” he responds, blinking again a few times.

“It’s probably the meds. They’ll wear off soon – let me get the doctor, alright?”

Miguel nods before you use the call button. The doctor and a nurse shortly arrive, checking Miguel’s vitals. Everything looks well and as the minutes roll by, Miguel seems more and more awake. The professionals head out after explaining to Miguel what happened, including his heart stopping, and the extent of his injuries.

Miguel lays on the bed silently, staring down at his lap as he thinks about what the doctor told him. You stand a few feet away from the bed, giving him some time to process what they said. You can’t tell what he’s thinking or how he feels as his face is neutral but, on the inside, Miguel feels a little overwhelmed at the news that he was dead for several minutes. The dream he had, which now makes him wonder if it really was a dream after all, is also on his mind. He looks down at his hands, remembering how it felt to hold Gabi. How she forgave him and told him she would always view him as her dad.

Miguel sighs softly, closing his eyes. He can feel what it felt like to hold them again. He can see all their faces and remember their words about moving forward and having a second chance. And as he recalls their words, he also remembers how they kept telling him someone was calling him. He opens his eyes slowly and looks up at you, finding you in the same spot. Ever since the doctor arrived, you’ve been keeping your distance from the bed, as if you’re afraid that you’ll hurt him by being so close. He swallows softly.

“She’s calling you,” Gabi said.

“You know who,” Gabriel said with a small smile. “You know exactly who.”

You.

It’s you.

Miguel clears his throat softly, finding even that action slightly uncomfortable to do right now. He turns his gaze away from you, feeling heat on his face at the realization. Were you really calling him when he was dying – or rather when he died? Was his dream not a dream but – Miguel can’t even think about it now. He can’t wrap his head around it. Is it possible? Miguel has always been a man of science but as he thinks about it, he has no explanation for it.

You notice Miguel turn away, and for some reason it makes you wonder if he doesn’t want you around. You clear your own throat softly, ignoring the feeling of rejection growing in your chest, and put on a neutral face.

“Jess and Peter are taking care of things, which reminds me… They asked me to let them know as soon as you woke up. Do you feel well enough to see them?” you ask softly, fingers on your gizmo ready to send the message.

Miguel’s gaze turns back to you. He hasn’t even thought about the Spider Society until now that you’ve mentioned Jess and Peter. He thinks about it for a few seconds. He’s still thinking about his dream – he’s just going to call it that from now on – and he doesn’t feel ready to be asked questions or get lectured by Jess after her countless warnings about going solo on missions at night. He shakes his head at last.

“In an hour, please,” he says, and you nod, dropping your arms at your sides.

“Of course.” You feel a breeze from the AC turning on again. You nod at him, noticing the blanket on his lap. “Are you cold?”

Miguel continues to hold your gaze, realizing that yes, his arms are cold. He starts to move but you quickly walk to him.

“Remember what the doctor said,” you remind him as you now stand next to him. “She said to avoid too much movement for now until tomorrow, or even Monday. I’ll help you. Do you want me to cover you to your chest?” you ask, picking up the blanket gently.

“Right,” Miguel replies remembering the doctor’s instructions. “Yes, please.”

You nod and take a hold of the blanket, lifting it.

Miguel feels your warmth as you stand near him. It seeps into the side of his body, spreading a pleasant sensation that leaves the rest of his body yearning for it. On top of that, he’s unable to stop himself from inhaling your scent as you lean closer to lift the blanket further up. The moment is brief. You’re there at his side one second and gone the next, suddenly standing three feet away from the bed but your scent lingers, filling his nostrils. He feels the loss of your warmth almost immediately. The remaining warmness fades away and it makes Miguel wish there was another excuse to bring you closer, which fills him with great shame even if it's only human nature to seek such a comfort, especially in his vulnerable state.

Not to mention that everything about you is comforting. It always is. Your voice. Your warmth. Your scent. Your laugh. Your movements. Your mere presence and existence.

“Is that good?” you ask, ready to adjust it to his liking, oblivious to Miguel’s thoughts.

Miguel nods. “Yes, thank you.”

Mierda, he thinks as he shifts his head slightly. A few months ago, on Dia de los Muertos, he wanted you to push his boundaries. He hoped you’d ask him questions about his life, about Gabriella and the rest of his family and now he’s wishing you push his boundaries regarding physical touch. Miguel dismisses it as part of the medications’ aftereffects. It has messed up with his thought process enough that he’s wanting physical touch, surely.

He tries to distract himself by looking out the windows. It’s still raining.

“Has it stopped raining at all?”

You shake your head. “No. It hasn’t stopped at all.”

Miguel nods, still staring and listening to it, trying to get himself distracted until whatever it is he’s on fades and he can be back to his normal senses. It takes him a few seconds to remember you’re still standing nearby, while he’s there, lying in bed. He turns his head, wondering if you’ll be leaving now that he’s awake. He silently hopes you don’t.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” he asks gently, his red eyes meeting yours.

And the way it sounds, well, it tugs at your heartstrings. There’s a softness to his tone that makes you realize your impression from earlier was wrong, and that you jumped to conclusions. Miguel doesn’t want you to leave but there’s also a part of him that isn’t used to this level of vulnerability.

For all the moments and time you’ve spent together over the last year, neither of you’ve been in such a vulnerable state regarding health. Sure, there was that day you were unwell due to your period, but it wasn’t to this level, and it wasn’t him. Additionally, Miguel is already apprehensive about being vulnerable with emotional wounds, so you can only imagine how hard it must be for him to be seen with physical ones. And yet, the way he asks if you have somewhere to be makes it sound like he hopes you’ll stay. You remember how he asked you earlier to do so, while the medications were probably at their peak before he fell asleep. He may not even remember it now, or ever, but you won’t forget it, much like every moment you’ve shared with him. You smile softly.

“I’m where I’m supposed to be,” you answer and then realize how it may sound. You clear your throat, thinking you really should take a nap at some point today. You tell yourself to be more careful with your words right now. You don’t want to upset Miguel or make him uncomfortable when this situation is probably already too much for him. “Jess assigned me to be here. I’m to be – kind of like your bodyguard – until you fully recover,” you tell him, and the bodyguard part makes him smile a little.

“My own bodyguard, eh?” he says, still smiling faintly, feeling relieved that you’ll be around even if he doesn’t voice it. And though he showed no reaction to your comment about being where you’re supposed to be, a warmness spreads in his chest.  

You smile when you notice his small smile, delighted to see it as always, no matter how faint it is. You nod to the family area of the room.

“You have a lot of gifts from members wishing you a speedy recovery. Would you like to see it?”

Miguel turns slightly. He noticed the balloons earlier, but he was feeling too overwhelmed to even wonder about them. Feeling much calmer now, he nods with that faint smile still on his face. You feel happiness rush through you at his response and nod before you walk over to the items. There are about fifteen balloons and even more flowers and cards along with baskets full of snacks. You collect some of the flowers and cards in them before you take them to him.

Miguel can’t help but feel surprised at the number of items left. If he’s being honest, he didn’t expect to receive so much due to his attitude and behavior in the past, especially the events related to Miles.

“I’ll hold the flowers and cards for you to read, that way you don’t move too much, and you can keep your arms under the blanket,” you say now standing next to him.

You place some of the individual cards next to him on the bed before you show him some of the flowers, gently pulling out a card and holding it for him to read. You do this multiple times with the cards from the flowers. Miguel reads them silently, nodding once he’s done. You go through all the flowers and finally start on the individual cards. You notice there are a few handmade ones from members who opted to apply their artistic skills, like Miles, whose card you show Miguel next.

The only thing you see is the front in which Miles took the liberty of drawing Miguel in his suit. You smile fondly at it, admiring Miles’s art as always. You’ve always loved the pieces Miles has shown you and you’re also very happy that he’s decided to pursue art school again. You watch as Miguel reads the card’s message, his eyebrows furrow softly as his eyes move across the card. Up to this point Miguel has nodded and smiled faintly with each card but you notice Miles’s incites this different reaction. He swallows softly and finally nods, turning away to look out the windows in thought.

You can’t help and wonder what Miles wrote, for whatever the message is seems to have struck something in Miguel as he continues to look out the windows. You close it carefully and put it in the stack of read cards, still thinking as you grab another one to show him but he’s still staring out the windows.

“Do you want to take a break? I can show you the rest later.”

Miguel blinks and turns around to face you. He shakes his head gently.

“No, it’s okay. I’d like to see the rest.”

You nod and show him the next one. Miguel’s mood is slightly different now. He smiles faintly here and there, and there’s no doubt in your mind that Miles’s card is still in his mind. You finally reach the last one and you know immediately who it belongs to. You smile as you show it to him. It has Peter and Mary Jane’s handwriting but Mayday’s artistic skills all over the cover. Miguel stares at it and smiles again.

“Mayday,” he says softly before you open it and let him read the message.

He nods once he’s done, that faint smile still on his face as you put it away with the rest. You carefully pick them up to avoid any damage, fixing them into a neat stack again.

“You also have some baskets with snacks,” you say as you now collect the smaller cards from the flowers. “Would you like me to show them to you?”

Miguel shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. There’s no need for you to carry them here. Thank you though – and thank you for showing me the cards and flowers.”

You nod. “Of course, no problem,” you say as you look him over. “Are you warmer now? I have this blanket as well, if you’re still cold,” you say remembering the blanket the nurses gave you earlier.

“I’m much warmer now, thank you. No need for the other blanket.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“If you need something, please tell me, okay? I’m here to help you,” you say after a few seconds.

Miguel takes a few seconds to nod, feeling a mix of emotions. He feels guilty that you’re stuck here having to look after him because Jess asked you but he also feels relieved that you’re here. Still holding the cards in your hand, you decide to move them to the table in the family area.

“You must be tired,” he comments, wondering if you’ve even slept as his eyes follow you.

“I’m not,” you respond gently as you place the cards down on the table.

“If you want to go home and rest, you should,” he says as he looks down.

You sigh softly, knowing where this is going. You turn around to face him, finding him looking down at his body, covered in the blanket you placed over him. He looks up, as if sensing your gaze on him.

“I’m not only here because Jess asked me to,” you start, standing still. You briefly think about how only a few hours ago you were just thinking about how neither of you’ve said what you’re about to admit to him. You didn’t realize you’d be saying it today. “I’m here because I want to – because you’re my friend and this is what friends do,” you continue, keeping your tone as casual as possible as you hold each other’s gazes, though your tone is full of sincerity. “And you don’t have to feel the same way or say anything right now. Just – just know I’m here for you,” you continue softly, repeating the same words you told him for the first time on Dia de los Muertos night, when he apologized for keeping you up and taking you away from chores. You wanted to say more that night, like how you didn’t mind stopping what you were doing to join him because you wanted to spend more time with him. Except you couldn’t say more that night. It was still too soon, and maybe it still is for Miguel but a part of you wants him to know. That you’d be here regardless of Jess asking you because you wish to be here if he allows it. “It’s not an inconvenience to me, if that’s what you’re thinking. So, please – please let me stick around,” you add much quietly as you hold his gaze. Heat rises to your face, and you feel like wincing at your own words because you understand the gravity of them. You’ve never asked anything of him but here you are now, asking him to let you stay with him. To let you look over him, cover his cold body, keep him company as he recovers, and do much more if he lets you help him because all you want is for Miguel to be well again but you also know that this isn’t easy for him and that you’re asking for something that he might not be comfortable with. Your heart races as you wait for his response.

Miguel holds your gaze, noticing the wincing at your own words but he knows you well enough to know it’s not from regret. No, Miguel knows that you’re always so understanding, so respectful of his boundaries, never pushing or asking and that’s what made you wince; that you’re asking for something from him. Your words and reaction sink in. And Miguel wishes he could reciprocate your words about considering him a friend out loud, but he cannot, not yet even though you are his friend. He can’t risk it, so he nods softly.

“I’d appreciate it – if you did. Thank you,” he replies with sincerity at last, with a small smile.

You smile back, once again happy to see him smile. You don’t mind that he doesn’t say more because with the smile and tone he used, you feel certain he feels the same way even if he can’t voice it right now. You know Miguel has a long way to go in fully letting go. Maybe one day in the future, you think, but for now, him letting you stay while he recovers, is more than enough.

“After you meet with Jess and Peter, would you like to eat?” you ask as you walk to the chair. “You must be hungry. I believe you’re clear to eat now.”

As if on cue, Miguel’s stomach growls and he looks at you with an embarrassed look. For once, it’s his stomach and not yours. You try not to smile and clear your throat quietly.

“I’ll ask the nurse if you can eat while you talk with Jess and Peter, alright?”

He nods, meeting your eyes. “That sounds good, thank you.”

You reach out to Jess and Peter once Miguel tells you he’s ready. You wait for them to arrive before you head out quickly to confirm with the nurse that he can eat now and thankfully he’s cleared. You head back to the room once they tell you they’ll take him food, walking in just as you hear Peter ask how everything happened and so, the three of you listen intently to Miguel as he explains. You can’t help but feel fury as he mentions the Green Goblin twisting his trident into Miguel just before the explosion went off, on top of the fact that he targeted the gizmo once he figured out it was important. You sigh quietly, wishing he hadn’t gone on his own. The conversation shifts to Jess, who briefs Miguel about several things like the system failure and how it’s working again thanks to the work of Margo and other members. He sits on the bed and nods.

“I’ll be thanking them personally but for now – please give them my gratitude,” he says softly. “Everyone – has really stepped up, including the three of you. Thank you,” Miguel adds looking at all of you. “I appreciate it.”

Jess nods and offers Miguel a smile. Peter grins at him.

“Any time, pal. That’s what we’re here for, right? We stick up for each other,” Peter says and Jess nods.

“Peter’s right. We stick up for each other and we’ll make sure everything runs smoothly until you’re fully recovered,” Jess says. “All you need to worry about right now is recovering.”

Peter steps closer to you and quietly mutters, “You heard that, right? Jess agreed with me for once.”

You stifle a chuckle and gently elbow him to be quiet.

“What are you going on about, Peter?” Jess asks with a frown.

“Nothing at all. Just telling my friend that the rest of our friend group has been wondering about her, that’s all,” Peter replies raising his hands in defense and discreetly elbowing you to back him up now.

You nod but say nothing, making Jess shake her head. “Alright you two, if you say so. Well – there’s much we need to do. The system failure messed up some files. Lyla and I are organizing it, so I’ll return to that now. Please listen to the doctor’s instructions, Miguel,” Jess says sternly, and Miguel raises an eyebrow briefly but nods.

“And Y/N’s instructions, too,” Peter adds with a grin. “She’s like your – personal bodyguard.”

You subtly elbow Peter again and he gives you a puzzled look.

“Anyway, we’ll keep you updated. Rest and take the time to recover properly. If you need anything let Y/N know. We all want you to recover and be back on your feet,” Jess says.

Peter and you nod at that, thinking about what you would give to avoid this situation completely.

“Thank you. I’ll do that… Do keep me updated on what’s going on. There are meetings scheduled for this week and the weekly reports are not done yet - ” Miguel starts but Jess stops him, raising a hand.

“We’re taking care of everything. You worry about recovering.”

Miguel frowns but Jess doesn’t back down. “Fine but I want to be updated on what’s happening though.”

Jess nods, satisfied with his answer. “Will do, boss.”

With that Jess and Peter say their goodbyes, promising to return at some point again today to check in. Miguel and you watch them leave even though you want to ask Jess something, but you decide to send her a message later instead. You want to ask her if you can help with the reports as it’s something you can probably work on while Miguel rests, but you figure you should keep quiet about it, or Miguel might try and help you and the last thing any of you want is for him to work while he’s recovering. The two of you say goodbye to them before you turn around to face him.

Miguel still has a slight frown on his face. The commander of the Spider Society is not used to being told what to do. You try not to smile at this.

“One of the nurses said you’re clear to eat. They’ll be bringing in food any time now,” you inform him as you step closer to your chair, picking up your blanket to fold it just as

Miguel groans softly. “What’s wrong?” you ask, putting the blanket down immediately.

“Hospital food.”

You chuckle. “I bet it’s not bad like the typical hospital food.”

“Hospital food is still hospital food.”

“I bet it’s better than my universe’s hospital food.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow at this, looking amused. “Perhaps but it’s still hospital food.”

You grin just as there’s a knock. A nurse comes in with a tray of food, immediately setting it up for him. The nurse asks Miguel if he needs assistance with eating and surprisingly, or perhaps not too surprisingly, he looks at you, not wanting to be fed by a stranger.

“Thank you but I’ll be helping him,” you inform them, and they nod.

Miguel thanks them before they leave the room, leaving the two of you alone again. He frowns as he looks down at the closed containers and you can’t help but find this amusing. You head to the bathroom to wash your hands before you return to his side. You grab a napkin and open it.

“I’m going to put this on your chest just in case something falls,” you tell him, and he nods but he doesn’t look enthusiastic about eating as you place the napkin on him. “Come on, you don’t even know what they brought yet.”

“I can smell it, and it doesn’t smell too good.”

You shake your head softly as you open the containers, putting the lids to the side as you reveal each food item. You stare at the main food. There’s steamed vegetables, chicken, and rice but it all looks a little… bland.

“Hmm.”

“I told you,” Miguel says grumpily.

You don’t say anything and instead pick up a small tub of gelatin that appears to be strawberry flavored. It looks like the most appetizing thing in the whole tray along with the two drinks they provided, apple juice and water.

“You don’t want to give this a try at all?” you ask softly, motioning to the food.

Miguel sighs, frowning. “I guess I have to.”

You grab the cutlery and offer him a steamed carrot slice. Miguel hesitantly opens his mouth, keeping his gaze on the tray, embarrassed. He can’t believe he’s being fed like a child as he softly bites down on the carrot. He chews, trying not to make a face.

“Not that bad, right?” you ask, and he looks up at you.

“Why don’t you try it, and you tell me?” he says grumpily, almost pouting.

You meet his eyes and hold back from laughing. You clear your throat, ready to ask him if he wants to try the rice or chicken now.

“No, I’m being serious. Try it.”

You sigh. “Why don’t you try the rice or the chicken now? We can drop the veggies then.”

Miguel sighs now. “If even the vegetables aren’t good, I have little hope for the rice and chicken… I’m not joking. That carrot wasn’t good.”

“It can’t be that bad. It’s just a steamed carrot.”

“Try it then.”

You continue to meet his gaze and he motions with his head for you to go on. You scoff softly and pick up a carrot with the fork before you slide it off to avoid eating from the same fork. You bring it to your mouth and frown as the scent hits your nose.

“Even the scent is off putting, right?” Miguel asks.

You nod before you chew and wow, Miguel is right. You grab a napkin and spit it out quietly.

“I don’t know how you ate that,” you say quietly. “You want some water to wash down the taste?” you offer, and Miguel nods trying not to chuckle at your response.

You grab the water bottle and notice straws were provided so you open one and slide it into the water bottle once you open it, too. You bring it to Miguel’s mouth, lining up the straw to his mouth so he can easily access it. He drinks for a few seconds before he releases the straw.

“I didn’t realize I was so thirsty” he says before he drinks more. You hold the bottle steady and watch as he nearly finishes it.

“I can get you another one. It’s been many hours since you drank something,” you mutter quietly. You look at the food. He hasn’t eaten anything in hours either and this food is unappetizing. You look at the gelatin. That’s the only appealing food item on the tray but his appetite won’t be satisfied with that alone.

Miguel leans back, releasing the straw again. The water bottle is empty now and he sighs in relief.

“Thank you.”

You nod and put the bottle away, thinking. “Would you be okay if I step out for – five or ten minutes?” you ask.

Miguel raises his eyebrow softly. “Is something wrong?” he asks just as his eyes flicker to your gizmo.

“Nothing wrong, don’t worry. I was just thinking – I can go to the cafeteria and grab you something from there instead. I can bring you empanadas if I can find some?” you suggest and you’re immediately happy you suggested this.

Miguel’s face changes. His eyes lit up and he nods immediately but then he frowns.

“The cafeteria staff showed up today? They have weekends off. They should’ve enjoyed their day off… And it’s not allowed to bring cafeteria food into the infirmary,” he says, and you scoff in amusement.

“They came in because a lot of members showed up to help. And I won’t get caught. Besides, what’s the worst thing the infirmary team can do? Tell the boss on me?” you ask as you start closing the containers.

Miguel watches you as you do this, with a small grin.

“If anything, I think he’d agree that this food is – a crime,” you say and Miguel chuckles before he groans.

“Mierda, that hurt,” he says closing his eyes in pain and you see his hands move under the blanket to his stomach.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you chuckle,” you say as you move the food tray away from him.

“It’s alright,” Miguel mutters with a sigh, opening his eyes again. “It’s fading away now. That son of a – he really got me with the trident.”

“I’m so sorry, is the pain subsiding now?” you ask worried, and he nods.

“It’s fading now, don’t worry,” he says softly, and you nod.

“I’ll go get you food once your pain subsides completely,” you reply, wanting to make sure you’re in the room until he’s completely okay.

After five minutes, Miguel nods. “I’m alright. The pain is gone,” he reassures you.

You sigh softly and nod. “Okay, I’ll be right back. I won’t take long, okay?”

Miguel nods and with one last look, you head out. You walk to the cafeteria quickly, noticing more gifts left for Miguel but you don’t pause to look. Once at the cafeteria, you put together some food boxes, making sure to secure Miguel’s empanadas first before anything else. You fix yourself a box so you can eat since you haven’t had anything after breakfast. Jess offered to take you something for lunch, but you weren’t hungry, so you declined but you realize you’re hungry now. You end up using your webs to secure the boxes together as you remember Miguel saying that it isn’t allowed to bring outside food into the infirmary. You also grab a few water bottles and cutlery, tying everything with more web and swinging the items over your shoulder. You’re about to head back, thinking how you’ll have to sneak into the infirmary sector with the food when you see the coffee station. You decide to grab some as well and when you reach the station you’re met with a lovely surprise.

There’s always only one coffee cup size but today there’s two. It’s double the size, or maybe even larger, than the regular cup. You can’t help yourself and end up ordering two of those. You haven’t slept in a while and you probably shouldn’t have this much caffeine, but you want to stay awake until nighttime as you suspect Miguel might not sleep until then. You pick up the cups and head back, having to sneak past the nurses’ office by sticking to the walls. Thankfully the coffee cups weren’t a problem.

You enter the room at last and find Miguel, still in bed of course, but the TV is now on. As you walk closer, you notice the containers are gone. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion just as Miguel turns around. 

“Peter and Jess came by. Peter took the food with him,” Miguel explains, noticing your confusion.

“I hope he hid them as he walked by,” you say as you set the boxes with food and coffee cups on the tray. “Anyway, I got you empanadas and some sides, along with fruit. I also got coffee. There are new cups,” you announce and motion to the cups, larger than the usual ones.

“You managed to get two?” Miguel asks, his tone full of surprise.

“Yes, why?”

Miguel scoffs softly. “I can never get my hands on these even though they’re meant for me.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen them.”

“Everyone opts to get these instead of the other ones. I have these bought because…” Miguel trails off, meeting your eyes. “Not only do I like coffee, but I also need more caffeine to actually feel the effect. The regular size cups aren’t enough sometimes, but I can never find these when I show up,” he says with a slight frown.

You frown. “Oh - I never realized you might need more caffeine, but it makes sense now that you say it,” you reply as you look at him, realizing that Miguel is a tall man and very built, so of course he’d need more than someone within the average height and weight.

 “All this time I should’ve been taking you two cups instead of one then,” you say, and Miguel shakes his head softly.

“Don’t worry about it. It does help me,” he reassures you.

“I’ll see if I can find these for you from now on,” you answer as you fix the napkin on his chest before you tell him you’re going to wash your hands again. When you return to his side, you open the boxes of food you brought specifically for him, showing him the empanadas and everything else before you get the cutlery ready. However, when you look at the empanadas, you realize this is a food that’s usually eaten by hand not with cutlery. You look up at Miguel, feeling silly to ask but you do regardless.

“Do you want me to cut these up for you or…?” you ask.

Miguel looks down at the empanadas.

“I can wrap the end in a napkin and hold it for you?” you offer and Miguel nods slowly. “Okay, I’ll do that then.”

You feel a little nervous. It’s not like you’ve never fed someone in the mouth before with your hand. It’s just that you’ve only ever done this with Peter… or used to. As you carefully pick up the empanada with a napkin and wrap it, you recall those days with Peter. He always liked to share his food with you, wanting you to try what he was having, and this always resulted in getting fed bits and pieces from him. You always reciprocated and found this to be an intimate act as you never did it with anyone else but here you are, lifting an empanada to Miguel’s mouth, who still looks embarrassed by this. You clear your throat softly, trying to dissipate the nervousness between the two of you over this simple and yet intimate act.

“They don’t feel burning hot so I think they should be at a good temperature to eat without burning your mouth,” you say, and he nods.

You watch as he reluctantly opens his mouth and takes a bite. His face quickly displays a pleased look and you’re unable to stop yourself from grinning at the different reaction from earlier.

“Not too hot?” you ask.

Miguel finishes eating, smiling faintly. “No, it’s perfect temperature. Thank you.”

You nod and bring the empanada closer to his mouth again. “If you want a drink, let me know. Or if you want to try the other food. It smells and looks good.”

As Miguel chews you notice a bit of a smirk on his face at your comment. You smile a bit before you look away and pick up one of the coffee cups, bringing it to your lips with your free hand. It seems that the nervousness between the two of you is subsiding now. You look up at the TV, an action movie is on. You turn back to Miguel and offer the empanada again. Each time, you’re careful no mess is left behind as you don’t want him to get food on himself but eventually you notice a bit of food in the corner of his mouth, so you put the second empanada down and pick a clean napkin. You motion to his mouth.

“You have a bit – in the corner of your mouth, here,” you say before you gently wipe his mouth.

Miguel’s eyes are on the food tray, and you don’t fail to notice a slight tint to his cheeks. You keep a neutral face as you clean him, despite wanting to smile as you find the action endearing but for his sake, you say nothing once you’re done.

“So, what exactly is this movie about?” you ask instead, deciding that maybe this’ll help calm him. You can only imagine how this is making Miguel feel, someone who isn’t used to such vulnerability even with you.

“To be honest, I don’t know. Peter turned the TV on, and it was already playing. I’ve never heard of it but then again… I haven’t kept up with movies in a long time,” Miguel admits before he takes another bite of the empanada as you offered it again.

You nod. “I understand, I haven’t either.”

Miguel nods as he eats, for some reason remembering that on Peter’s birthday you claimed you’d be going to the movies with friends from your universe. Except that was just a lie to hide your true plans and there weren’t friends involved either way. He remembers waking up the next day and thinking about how no one showed up. You planned to spend the evening alone and he couldn’t help but wonder. Sure, Jess briefed him on you before she brought you to HQ. She mentioned that you were completely on your own, with no family or friends but he thought there had to be someone, even if they weren’t too close to you but Jess had been right. No one called or arrived on Peter’s birthday. You were really alone in your universe, and he couldn’t understand why. He had wondered, did they abandon you when you needed someone the most or did you cut ties on your own? He just couldn’t and still can’t wrap his head around the fact that you spent three years completely on your own. He can’t help but feel that you deserved better. He can’t help but wish that he had found your universe sooner, so you could’ve had the Spider Society as a support system earlier.

And maybe, just maybe you could’ve been a part of his life sooner, too. Miguel clears his throat as this thought comes to his mind.

“May I please have some water?”

You nod and place the remainder of the second empanada down before you open the water bottle, slipping a straw into it before you bring it to his lips. You can’t help but notice the difference on his face as he drinks. His face is still missing its full natural color, but he has thankfully gained some of it.  

Miguel eats all the empanadas and sides, along with the fruit. He also drinks two water bottles and asks for some coffee. When you notice that he seems to be rushing so you can start eating soon, you tell him not to worry, and to take his time. He slightly frowns but nods after you talk to him, his mind still whirling with thoughts. When he’s done, you eat as the two of you continue to watch the movie, not really understanding what’s going on but it has caught both of your attention regardless. At some point you remember you have the tablet Ben Reilly brought you many hours ago, so you grab it and look up the movie.

“This is actually the third installment.”

Miguel turns to you. “That explains a lot.”

You chuckle after you take a sip of your coffee, done eating. “It does.”

You resume watching the movie. It’s about five o’clock in the afternoon. The slow and peaceful rain is still going. The room has a somewhat comforting energy about it with the few lights on as Miguel and you watch the movie. His eyes flicker to you though his glances go unnoticed by you, as your eyes are on the TV. He has an idea suddenly and when he’s about to speak, he remembers he doesn’t have a gizmo. That prompts him to remember that you gave him yours when you… found him. He clears his throat as the memories come to him quickly.

He was out of it, his body felt weak and cold when he heard your voice. It sounded so far away until it became clear. He felt your touch when you cupped his face in your small hand. He remembers saying that you were there, and you thought he referred to everyone. In reality, he referred to you alone, for you were the last person he thought about before he felt his consciousness slip for the first time. Even in his state, he felt like he had somehow called for you across the multiverse because you were there suddenly, kneeled by his side, telling him that he would go home. Then, you slipped your gizmo into his wrist, not caring if you glitched and he wanted to tell you so badly to take it back because he now knew what it was like, and he didn’t want you to experience it, too. He didn’t get the chance to warn you though and you didn’t care. You didn’t care that you would glitch just to protect him from glitching again.

And Miguel’s chest fills with a heavy feeling now. His eyes soften as he looks at you, still watching TV, engrossed in this movie that neither of you understand. He smiles softly at you, his friend, even if he can’t say it out loud. Yet.

“I think we should watch the other movies,” Miguel says breaking the silence, and making you turn to face him with a raised eyebrow.

“The other movies?”

“We have nothing else to do… Why not?” he asks quietly.

You nod, smiling. You haven’t messaged Jess about potentially helping with the reports but you decide to leave it like that for now. You decide to take the opportunity to distract Miguel with the movies, seeing as he’s showing interest in them instead of trying to jump right back into work. Your reaction makes Miguel nod and so he executes the idea he had a few minutes ago. He calls for Lyla.

“Miguel! It’s so good to see you – you look – better,” Lyla says enthusiastically.

“Thanks, Lyla. I need you to do something for me,” Miguel says.

“You’re not allowed to work right now. Y/N, tell him he’s not allowed to work right now. He’ll listen to you.”

Miguel frowns and you watch in amusement. “I know. It’s something else.”

“Oh, then what is it?” Lyla asks with a raised eyebrow, intrigued.

Miguel asks her to buy all the movies available before he asks her to stream the first one on the TV.

“Hmm, this was the last thing I thought you’d ask me to do,” Lyla says with her arms crossed over her chest as Miguel and you start watching the first movie, looking puzzled. “Alright, you two, enjoy the movies! And Miguel, don’t push yourself. Take proper time to heal. It’s the order – from everyone,” Lyla says softly, looking at him with worried eyes.

Miguel faces her, knowing that this is the first time something like this has happened to him and despite being an AI and her attitude, he can tell she was worried. He nods at her. “I’ll be back soon. Make sure you do your job without driving the members crazy.”

She gives Miguel a grin. “It’s part of my personality, can’t help it but I’ll do my job, boss. I might pop by later when the other members are gone. Enjoy the movies!”

She gives him a peace sign and says her goodbye to the two of you before she disappears. The two of you watch the movies for the rest of the afternoon, pausing when the medical team comes in to check on Miguel, and yes, you hid the food boxes amongst Miguel’s flowers and balloons, masking the scent by bringing some flowers to the nightstand next to the bed so they wouldn’t find out until you got rid of the evidence.

A little after ten o’clock, Miguel yawns softly just as the second movie ends. You stand up and stretch, before walking over to him.

“How are you doing? Do you want a drink or maybe use the restroom before bed?” you ask, wanting to make sure he’s comfortable.

Miguel sighs softly, moving a bit. “I really wish I could get up and stretch,” he says. “I’d also like to brush my teeth.”

You nod, thinking. “I can solve the teeth situation but – I’m not sure I can help you get up without hurting you. Let me call the nurses, okay?”

“Let’s try it. Just – you and me. Please,” he says gently, and you can’t refuse with that soft tone of his, so you nod.

“Alright… but slowly. I don’t want to hurt you. Let me get the toothbrush and toothpaste first though,” you say as you go to your small traveling bag. In your hurry to return fast, you opted to throw a new pack of toothbrushes you had and your toothpaste when you were packing. Now you’re glad because you can give one to Miguel. You quickly take both items to the bathroom before you return to him.

The two of you work together to get him to stand up, and you succeed after what feels like fifteen minutes because you wanted to avoid hurting him. At last, however, he holds on to you with his arm wrapped around your waist at your request when you noticed his balance is a little off. Your own arm is around his waist, careful to avoid touching any of his stomach area. You remain like that for a few minutes, letting Miguel get used to being on his feet again. You ask him if he’s okay or if he needs to sit down again but he declines, telling you to give him a few more seconds. Eventually he nods.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

You silently hope this all goes well as you help him take a few steps. Thankfully the action doesn’t hurt Miguel nearly as much as you thought it would since neither of you are rushing. The two of you walk a bit in the area between the bed and the family area, with Miguel taking short steps. You wish you thought of bringing him slippers as you look down at his feet, noticing that he’s wearing standard hospital socks, but you decide you’ll ask for another pair so you can change them out once he’s back in bed. You also decide tomorrow you or someone else will need to go to his apartment to collect some items as he’ll still be here tomorrow.

At last, Miguel stands in front of the sink. He sees himself in the mirror and his reflection makes him pause. He’s never looked this bad and then he remembers, once again, that he died. The possibility that he wouldn’t even be staring at himself right now hits Miguel suddenly. He clears his thoughts and turns his head to you.

“You ready?” you ask softly, looking up at him.

“Yes. I think I can do it on my own,” he replies, and you nod hesitantly before giving him the toothbrush with some toothpaste on it.

He starts lifting his arm, but the movement makes him wince.

“I can help you,” you say quietly and after a few seconds Miguel sighs.

“You already fed me and now you’re going to brush my teeth,” he says but he doesn’t sound angry, he’s just embarrassed.

“And I’ll do more than that if necessary. If you allow me. I just – don’t want you to get hurt,” you say softly. “I know… This can feel embarrassing,” you continue as you take the toothbrush from his hand, guiding his arm down gently to avoid any more discomfort.

At your height, you can’t reach his mouth, so you climb up the counter, resting on your heels, facing him. You grab a towel from a stack and put it over his chest, tucking it gently into the hospital gown’s neckline to avoid getting it dirty. You lean closer and motion for him to open his mouth. He sighs and then follows your order. You start brushing his teeth gently, focusing on the task as you continue to talk.

“I know it can feel embarrassing. I used to feel like that when I got hurt and went home to Peter,” you start. “He took care of my wounds. Helped me shower and dress. Got me in bed and still had the energy to hold me,” you say quietly, your tone full of fondness as you remember Peter once again. “I felt embarrassed even with my partner so I can imagine what this must feel like when I’m just, you know,” you say as you continue to brush his teeth, carefully. All the while, Miguel’s eyes take in the sight of you this close, listening to your quiet voice as you lean closer, even ducking your head to get a good view of his mouth. He blinks when he hears your last words, knowing what you’re saying. That it’s normal for him to feel embarrassed when it’s you, his friend, doing this for him. “But I hope – you allow me to continue to help you so you can recover faster. I don’t like seeing you like this,” you say with a frown, which he notices, as you finish brushing one side of his mouth. You wipe the corner of his mouth softly with the towel. “So, please… if you need help with something, don’t hesitate to ask because of embarrassment. I’m here to help you,” you say as you start brushing the other side of his mouth.

He nods softly after a few seconds while you finish brushing his teeth. At last, you’re done, and you smile at him, drying his mouth from the water.

“Done,” you say as you rinse the toothbrush before you place it on a toothbrush holder for tomorrow. “Anything else you’d like to do before you get back in bed?”

Miguel meets your eyes, thinking about what he’s about to ask.

“Do you mind – passing a towel over my face?” Miguel asks. “My face feels weird.”

You nod, remembering. “I have these reusable cotton face pads. They’re much softer on the skin than a towel. Let me get them real quick,” you say and with that you slide off the counter and exit the bathroom. Miguel stands there, surprised at your offer but he doesn’t have much time to think anything else because you enter the bathroom again holding some round cotton pads. He watches as you climb up the counter again before you open the hot water and pass the pads under it. You squeeze the excess and turn to him at last. “Alright, you ready?”

Miguel nods again. “Yes, thank you.”

You nod, realizing some of his hair is over his forehead. You feel a bit nervous as you think about what you’re about to ask him. “Do you mind if I hold your hair up?”

“Go ahead,” Miguel answers softly, answering almost immediately, which surprises you a bit.

He doesn’t seem to mind, so you nod and carefully reach for his hair. You lift it lightly before you glide the lukewarm cotton pad over his forehead with a tenderness that makes Miguel hold his breath for a few seconds. You wipe his forehead, then his eyebrows. Your movements remain tender, making Miguel feel like he’s some delicate glass object that’s worthy of your gentleness as you glide the pad down the bridge to the tip and sides of his nose. You change pads and ask him to close his eyes before you glide it over his eyelids, moving to the rest of the eye area.

Your face remains neutral as you clean his face though your eyes take in every detail. From the flecks in his red eyes to his eyebrows to the lines on his forehead and under eyes. And when you reach the bottom half of his face your eyes trace his cheeks, jawline, chin, and finally his lips, wiping them softly to make sure you remove any toothpaste excess.

The entire process makes Miguel’s face feel warm, not because of the warmness of the pads but because of the closeness of this moment. No one has ever done this to him. And yet, you seem so unbothered by it. Like this is normal. You grab another pad, damping it with warm water again and repeating the process much faster this time. You let go of his hair and move back.

“Done,” you say softly as you put down the pads on the counter, telling yourself you’ll pick them up later to take home and wash. Miguel watches your movement and for the first time, he notices it. There are light scratches on your hand, and he instantly knows they came from his talons. “Are you ready to head back? Or do you need to use the bathroom?” you ask Miguel, not noticing.

“Your hand,” Miguel says still looking at it. “I scratched you?” he asks, meeting your eyes, sounding extremely bothered by this.

You look down in surprise, remembering that he scratched you a bit when you were trying to calm him down as he grew restless. It was hard not to forget about them, as shortly after that his heart gave out.

“Oh, yes but don’t worry about it. It didn’t hurt that much. I honestly forgot about them,” you admit, making Miguel frown.

“I’m really sorry. I don’t remember – when I did that. Not only must I’ve hurt you but probably ripped your suit in the process as well,” Miguel says, sounding regretful.

You shake your head. “It hardly hurt, really. I even forgot I had these,” you say nodding to the scratches. “And about the suit, I didn’t notice any rips on it this morning and even if there are, I’m sure I can fix it. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“I can have it fixed for you here. Or you can have a new one,” Miguel offers. “Same design, maybe with some updates if you’d like… But you should get the scratches checked just in case. I’m really sorry that I did this to you,” Miguel says quietly, and he truly does feel bad. He doesn’t even remember doing it.

You smile gently at him and nod. “If it comes to that, sure but we can worry about that later. And don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt. They were very light scratches, nothing to worry about. I promise,” you reassure him. “So, ready to head back?”

Miguel is upset with himself over scratching you, but he sees that you want to drop it, so he lets it go, too. For now. He’ll make sure you have a new suit because he’s certain he ripped yours. There’s no way he didn’t and even though he doesn’t know the exact reason, he knows you’re very attached to your suit. He sighs silently and answers your question at last.

“I need to use the bathroom, but I got it, thank you,” he says gently, thinking the last thing either of you need is for you to help him use the bathroom, too.

“Of course, I’ll be outside if you need me. Please take your time so you don’t hurt yourself, okay?”

He nods, grateful to you for everything but still feeling bad about scratching you, before you head out of the bathroom, closing the door after you.

You check your gizmo to distract yourself, noticing several messages from your friends asking about Miguel and his status, and if either of you need anything so they can drop it off. You smile fondly as you read the thread of messages before responding quickly to them, letting them know that Miguel has been doing well and that you’ll let them know if either of you need anything. You finish sending the last message just as you hear the toilet flush and then the water running. Miguel comes out about a minute later. He seems to be able to walk a lot better on his own now but he’s still moving slow to prevent any pain.

You offer to help him and this time he puts his arm around your shoulders, leaning just a bit on you. You successfully get him back in bed, finding the process much easier than getting him out of it. You tell him about changing his socks since he walked on the infirmary floor, but he says he’s fine without them, so you just remove them for him before you cover him again for the night. You bring the blanket close to his chest and fix his pillow to his preference. At last, he lays on the bed feeling much better.

“Thank you for everything,” Miguel says as he watches you fix your chair to sleep, wishing you’d go home so you can properly rest or for there to be something far more comfortable than the fold out chair, but he can already hear you turning down his suggestions.

You fix your pillow before you turn around to face him, giving him a small smile. “Always,” you say softly. “I’m going to use the bathroom. Just call me if you need anything, okay?”

He nods and watches as you pick up your travel bag before you head into the bathroom, closing the door quietly after yourself. Miguel turns away and looks up at the ceiling, remembering. Last night around this time he was in the lab, feeling restless but still working, not even imagining what was going to happen in a matter of hours. He sighs softly now, repositioning his head to get comfortable. He feels tired and he knows he'll fall asleep soon, but he wants to make sure you’re comfortable, too, or at least as much as possible.

You come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, wearing different clothes but not pajamas, though they look far more comfortable than what you were wearing earlier.

“The AC turns on a lot during the night. Do you want me to lift the blanket higher up, so you don’t get cold?”

Miguel meets your eyes and answers yes, his mind now shifting to how caring you’ve been all day, even sneaking food for him. He has a lot to thank you for, and he feels as though nothing he says or offers to you will ever be able to fully express his gratitude. You fix the blanket and even tuck it in a bit for him before you step back, giving him space.

“Is that comfortable?” you ask, and Miguel nods.

“It is. Thank you.”

You nod, smiling at him softly before you turn around and take a seat on the chair, covering your lower body with a blanket.

“You’re not sleeping yet?” he asks, noticing that you haven’t folded out the chair.

“I’m not sleepy yet.”

And you really don’t, probably due to the large cup of coffee you drank but you know at some point during the night you will as it’s close to twenty-four hours since you slept. Miguel nods though he frowns.

“Try to rest,” he says quietly.

“I will. Don’t worry about me. Rest,” you answer as you pull the blanket higher up your body, thinking.

Miguel nods again, closing his eyes, unable to fight sleep anymore. He ends up falling asleep about fifteen minutes later, his soft and even breathing filling your ears as you sit on the fold out chair. You watch his sleeping figure, the sight providing you calmness as you think about the day. Miguel woke up, talked, ate, and even chuckled at your comment about the infirmary food being a crime. You smile softly, staring at him. He’s okay. He just has to recover and soon he’ll be back in his lab, working like normal, a sight you never thought you’d wish for until now.

You stay awake for an hour more, watching over Miguel, before sleep consumes you.

Miguel wakes up about two hours later. He opens his eyes and looks around, his gaze stopping on you as he takes your sleeping figure. He blinks a few times, still staring at you. Somehow you manage to make sleeping on the fold out chair look comfortable. The blanket is up to your chest, and you hold the pillow vertically to your body, with your head resting on it and your arms wrapped around it. It looks as if you were laying on someone’s chest while hugging them. And Miguel can’t keep his eyes off you as your soft breathing fills his ears, feeling glad that you’re sleeping at last because he doesn’t know how long you’ve been awake for.

He tries to sleep again but it seems that sleep has deserted him and instead he finds himself thinking about everything as he watches over you now. He was able to avoid thinking about a lot of things throughout the day but now, there’s no escape from his thoughts. You’re not awake, there’s no Jess or Peter, or TV to provide relief from the thoughts that have been on his mind since he woke up. And there are so, so many.

First, there’s the fact that Miguel briefly passed away. It isn’t that he thinks he’s invisible. He has experienced too many losses in his life to know that no one is invisible, no matter how strong, how kind, or how innocent someone may be. Death doesn’t care about those things. He’s also not fearful of dying. It’s never been about the actual act itself. It’s always been other factors. Like how a few months ago he was afraid of the aftermath. About whether anyone would care or even show up to his funeral because of the way he carried himself; distant and detached.

Then, on Peter’s birthday, you led him to lose that fear. Now he feels overwhelmed for another reason. It’s the realization that he feels regret. If he was to look back at his life up until the moment his heart stopped, Miguel realizes he wouldn’t look back with satisfaction when it came to his decisions and way of living. No, he would’ve looked back and seen himself experience loss after loss, heartache after heartache. He’d see himself giving up and turning away anyone who tried to get close, leading to his lonely life with a few lapses of time in which he was happy before he’d lose everything again. His short death has made him realize that he doesn’t want to look back at his life, when he’s older or when he’s gone for good, with disappointment and regret.

There’s also the thoughts about his dream or vision, or whatever the hell that was. Miguel moves his fingers under the blanket, extending his arms out the sides of the blanket so he can look at them. He successfully does this without hurting himself and when he finally sees his fingers, he closes his hands, remembering how it felt to hold Gabriella again. How it felt to hug his brother and wife. The dream comes to him quickly, playing through his mind. A part of him wants it to be real, while another part of him feels that it was real. How could it be otherwise when it felt so real? When it made sense? His family’s words echo through his mind again. Everything they said. They want him to move forward. To take this second chance. To stop his current way of living. Miguel also thinks of the guilt he has carried for so long and because a part of him believes his dream was a real but short reunion with them, he feels relieved. Like a weight has been taken off his shoulders, especially after his variant, his wife, and Gabriella forgave him for his actions.

Another thought plaguing Miguel’s mind is Miles’s card. He tried to act normal afterward but he’s sure you noticed the change of mood in him. He began to read it, expecting well wishes for a speedy recovery or something of the sort, and yes, that was part of it but not all of it. For some reason, Miles felt that it was necessary to talk about Miguel’s actions when it came to their “disagreement,” as Miles lightly put it, even though Miguel wouldn’t dare dream of wording it like that after how he behaved. No, Miguel accepts that his actions and words were disgusting and even though everyone has moved on, he continues to feel shame and regret for everything.

For hunting down Miles across the multiverse, for trying to stop him from saving Mr. Morales, the same man who sent him food for the holidays because for some reason he and Mrs. Morales still have it in their hearts to be forgiving and feel concerned for him, despite knowing that Miguel literally asked their son to accept Mr. Morales’s death as a canon event, not to mention the way he treated Miles. Yet, Miles and his family, and everyone else it seems, have moved on – something Miles made clear in his card. With the way Miles acts around him these days, Miguel kind of knew this already though, for Miles continues to call him “tío” sometimes, a title Miguel hasn’t felt worthy of. On top of that, Miles went on and apologized to him, something else Miguel doesn’t feel worthy of and yet, the young superhero apologized, claiming that he had disregarded Miguel’s fear back then, and that even though his theory wasn’t perfect, Miguel was basing it from what he knew back then, from his own experience. All in all, Miguel hadn’t expected such contents in the card but then again, what could he expect from someone who continuously surprised him. So, there’s Miles’s words, lingering in Miguel’s mind.

Then there’s you. You were the one to say it first, to claim him as your friend. And hell, Miguel wishes he could’ve said it back; that you’re his friend. The one that never asks for anything and has remained the same throughout all these months. Always kind, caring, and understanding. Miguel sighs, wishing. Wishing he could say it, and yet he can’t because he’s afraid. Everyone Miguel has ever cared about is gone, and the losses in his life have led to a fear. A fear that the moment he admits out loud that you’re his friend, too, that you’ll disappear; that something will happen to you and Miguel cannot take another loss. He cannot risk it even when a part of his brain tells him he's being irrational.

Miguel’s thoughts are starting to feel more like reasons. Like excuses. Like signs.

Miguel feels like he’s going backwards. For the longest time, Miguel has believed that the best way to “move forward” was accepting loneliness, the lack of friends and family, and that his life’s purpose is his job – his duty. He also believed he put behind certain hardships in his life like his childhood and how his stepfather treated him, not realizing the truth behind it until he discovered that the man he grew up fearful of, was never his father to begin with but rather the man he worked for as an adult. Or how his mother always placed Gabriel on a pedestal, her words cutting through him each time she told Miguel he would never be anything like him. He never resented Gabriel, but he couldn’t say the same for his mother even after they resolved their issues years later. There are so many wounds in Miguel’s heart and while he believes that he has moved on, or put them behind him, the reality is that all his wounds are still there; open and raw.

But Miguel kept going, thinking the next loss or heartache couldn’t possibly be worse than the last one. It was. Each time. It just reinforced his belief that he was meant for this lonely life.

Now, there’s so many signs, so many reasons… Everything around him, all his thoughts, every part of him telling him to go ahead and get his hopes up again. To let himself go back to a younger version of himself that longed for so much.

For a family. For friendships.

His family told him to try and move forward. His variant told him to seize the opportunity, to find another purpose other than work. Basically, to not let the hardships of his life dictate the rest of it. Then there’s Miles’s card, forgiving him for the way he acted towards him. And finally, you’re here. Sleeping on a fold out chair that he can never imagine sleeping comfortably on, hours later after telling him that he’s your friend. Looking after him in ways he’s never been looked after, treating him like he’s worthy of your friendship. Like he’s deserving of this second chance and being able to call you his friend. So many signs.

Miguel sighs quietly. It feels like he’s going backwards, and there’s nothing he can do about it. And maybe, he doesn’t want to do anything about it, Miguel realizes as he continues to watch you sleep.

He lays in bed, watching you and thinking when his thoughts are interrupted.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Miguel turns to Lyla. “Can’t sleep.”

“So, you’re just watching Y/N instead…?”

“I’m not – what are you doing here?” Miguel asks frowning, talking quietly to avoid disturbing your sleep.

“Oh, don’t even try to deny it. You’ve been watching her for like – the last half hour. It’s weird, please stop,” Lyla says crossing her arms over her chest, frowning back at Miguel.

“I wasn’t… I was thinking.”

“Sureee, if that’s going to help you sleep, then go ahead.”

Miguel’s frown deepens but he says nothing else, his eyes returning to you, and once again, he wonders how you look so comfortable in that damn chair. Lyla joins him in staring at you and Miguel notices.

“Now who’s staring?” he asks.

“Oh, I’m just ‘thinking,’ boss,” Lyla says with a smirk, causing Miguel to roll his eyes. “But in all seriousness, I’m glad she’s finally sleeping. She’s been awake since three in the morning when she realized something was wrong.”

That peels Miguel’s attention from you to Lyla.

“What?”

Lyla shrugs, arms still crossed over her chest. “Yeah, she was awake since three in the morning and hasn’t slept until now.”

“No, the other thing. The thing about her figuring out something was wrong.”

Lyla’s eyes widen and she uncrosses her arms quickly. “Oh, you know, I just remembered that I need to do something for Jess. She wants it done by the time she arrives, so I ought to go because I don’t need a lecture from Jess.”

“Lyla,” Miguel whispers in a warning tone.

“Rest well and don’t be a creep, goodnight!” Lyla says before she disappears, leaving him with questions.

Miguel sighs, feeling annoyed that she avoided the question but now he knows. You were the one that figured it out but how? What were you doing at HQ so late? Miguel decides that he’ll ask you tomorrow, or rather later, as it’s already early Sunday. Miguel continues to watch you sleep until your soft and even breathing lure him back to sleep.

★★★

A few hours later, Miguel wakes up. He finds you sitting on the fold out chair, already dressed in different clothes and looking like you’ve showered. You’re on the tablet Ben Reilly brought you yesterday, eyebrows furrowed as you type into the screen.

“Good morning,” Miguel says, his voice sounding raspy and deeper than usual.

You look up and stand up immediately, leaving the tablet on the chair as you approach him.

“Good morning, Miguel. Did you sleep well?”

Miguel nods, closing his eyes for a second, getting used to the brighter light in the room. The sun is out today, and the sky is sprinkled with white clouds. The rain is gone.

“I did, thank you. What time is it?”

“It’s nine.”

“I slept too much,” he responds, opening his eyes.

“You need as much rest as possible,” you reply, observing Miguel’s face. He looks much better today.

“I guess so,” Miguel replies, looking at you again. “You look ready to start the day.”

You nod and smile. “I woke up about two hours ago and decided to go ahead and get ready for the day.”

Miguel gives you a small grin. “What are you working on?”

Meeting his eyes, you continue to smile. “Well, I asked Jess this morning if there was anything else I could help with around here. She assigned me to work on the report for this week.”

Miguel nods, thinking that’s something he always works on, but it doesn’t bother him that you’re doing it. If anything, it makes him think about something. And the thought grows as you grab the tablet and show him your progress so far. The layout is like the current one, just slightly different and he likes it. With the thoughts from last night still present in his mind, Miguel has the sudden thought that maybe he ought to let members do more around HQ. Maybe he should let someone else work on the report with him. Someone like you. He smiles softly as you show him, nodding. He’ll bring it up later, once he’s fully recovered.

“It looks great,” he says, and he means it.

“Thank you,” you say, saving your progress and putting the tablet away. “So, updates. Jess and Peter said they’d be here in a while. They’re bringing breakfast. The doctor came in and said she’ll look at your wounds sometime today to see the progress. Based on how they’re doing, she’ll decide when to discharge you. She also said you can shower today after she checks your wounds. So, would you like me or someone else to bring your personal items for a shower? You can wear normal clothes now, by the way. You just need to wear a jacket or something of the sort that can be slipped on and off if needed without you having to raise your arms too much.”

Miguel nods. “Yes, please. I really would like to shower and wear something else other than this,” he says looking down at the hospital gown. Thankfully he’s wearing his boxers underneath, but he doesn’t like how thin the fabric is and the AC has been constantly on.

“Alright, then we can ask the doctor to check your wounds after breakfast if you want. And then you can shower, which reminds me, the doctor said there’s a male nurse available. He’ll be ready to assist you.”

Miguel shakes his head. “I can do it by myself.”

You frown. “Miguel…”

“At least the lower half of my body, I can,” he says softly and looks away. “I may need help with my hair and torso but that’s it.”

“You’ll let the nurse help you with the rest though, right? You’ll hurt yourself if you try to do it alone.”

Miguel continues to look away. The thought of a stranger, despite being his employee, makes him feel weird, and not because it’s a man. He doesn’t want a stranger to touch him. He sighs and you know why.

“Would you be – more comfortable with one of us helping you?” you ask lowly.

Miguel’s eyes shift to you. There’s Jess, Peter, and you as his options.

You shrug a bit. “I don’t mind. And I’m sure neither would Peter and Jess if you ask them.”

Miguel nods slowly. “I hate to ask…”

You stare at him, swallowing slowly because you have a feeling that he’d prefer for you to help him, but he can’t ask. You decide to put it out there for him.

“I can help you if you’d like.”

And Miguel nods a few seconds later. “Thank you. I’m sorry – I know it’s too much. You’ve done so much already and I…”

“It’s not too much,” you answer softly. “It’s alright. Let’s just focus on you recovering, okay? Everything else – it doesn’t matter.”

Miguel nods but he still feels odd about this. He’s so used to doing everything on his own, which is how he got here, he realizes. He tries to put his feelings away just as there’s a knock on the door. Jess and Peter walk in, both carrying takeout bags. Peter is talking loudly and saying something about a nurse. Miguel and you frown, thinking that they must have been seen carrying in outside food.

“You didn’t get in trouble for bringing outside food?” you ask.

Jess frowns before she realizes what you’re talking about. “Oh, right. There’s that rule. Nobody follows it,” she says with a shrug.

You turn to Miguel as Jess and Peter start putting out the food on the same table from yesterday. The two of you share a look of disbelief at Jess’s comment before you grin, shaking your head softly. Miguel offers you a small smile in return.

The four of you have breakfast. It turns out that Jess brought breakfast from a diner in her universe, apparently a favorite spot of her husband’s, who kindly sent the food and wished Miguel a speedy recovery. After breakfast, Jess and Peter ask Miguel if they can talk about certain tasks that need his approval. You decide to take this time and collect his personal items. He gives you a quick rundown of everything he’d need and where you can find it before you head out.

It doesn’t take you very long. You retrieve his personal hygiene items like his shampoo, body wash, and deodorant along with his hairbrush. You move to the clothes next. It turns out that Miguel has a large walk-in closet, located in his room that you completely missed when you came to look for him two nights ago as the doors blend with the rest of the wall so much. You pick up two pairs of dark grey sweatpants, at his request, and two jackets, along with two pairs of boxers. You remember to grab some slippers and socks as well, and pack everything into a travel bag before you head out of his bedroom, briefly taking in his space.

Miguel’s room is large, clean, and well organized but you can tell he doesn’t spend a lot of time here. Everything is in neutral colors like his grey bed set. You head to Miguel’s home office next to pick up the last thing he requested. A vial that’s supposed to contain a green liquid and a syringe. You wondered but of course you didn’t ask.

You enter the office, finding it like the rest of Miguel’s penthouse; clean and organized, all neutral colors. You head to the desk, remembering he said you’d find what he needs in the first drawer and sure enough, you find the items there. The squared vials, which contain a neon green liquid, are in a small box meant to keep them from breaking. You pick one up, careful not to drop it, and place it in one of the small storage bags within the traveling bag. The large syringe is also in the drawer, and it’s apparently Spider-Man themed as you notice the injecting needles are designed to look like a spider’s fangs. You slide it into the bag, too. You walk out of the office, ready to head back as the strange vial is on your mind.

When you return to HQ, you find Jess and Peter standing off to the side. Miguel is on the bed surrounded by the medical team just as they’re preparing to remove his gauzes. You stick back with Jess and Peter, still holding the travel bag in your hand as Jess tells Miguel about the different things done to fix the system failure from yesterday. Miguel nods, listening intently as a nurse unties the hospital gown from the back of his neck, gently moving it down his arms to not hurt him and for the first time, you see the extent of his injuries. Most of his torso is covered in gauzes with only a few areas showing his skin and it makes you realize just how much he was injured. Thankfully Jess continues talking, showing no hesitation. Meanwhile, you sense Peter going still much like you. He looks out the window with a soft and thoughtful look on his face while you look down at the traveling bag, both of you feeling stunned by the sight of Miguel’s torso covered in gauzes.

You eventually look up again, noticing that the team is now removing gauzes, revealing Miguel’s injuries. Even from this distance you can see light pink lines across his skin from the smaller wounds. You also notice other things, like Miguel’s physique. You obviously know he’s well-built due to being a superhero but as your eyes respectfully inspect his upper body you still feel… admiration? Surprise? In a matter of seconds your eyes take in his broad and defined shoulders, his collarbone, and the lines of definition that mark his chest and abdomen. And when you look at his arms, you notice his large biceps and the veins leading down to his hands. As silly as it sounds all you can think about is that phrase everyone uses when they talk about a well-built and handsome man. It’s like Miguel was sculpted by -

“Did you get everything Miguel needed?”

“What?” you reply quietly, blinking and turning your head to Peter, startled.

“I asked if you got everything Miguel needed. You okay? You look a little distracted,” Peter says with a little grin.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you nod. “Yeah, I got everything. And yes, I’m fine. Just – it’s been a stressful weekend, that’s all,” you answer neutrally, looking down at your gizmo as an excuse to avoid Peter’s gaze because you sense that he caught you staring.

You briefly look at Miguel, his eyes are on Jess as she continues to talk, thankfully unaware that you were staring at him. The medical team continues to work and at last, all the gauzes are removed. You can see the worst of his injuries now which include the two large cuts on his side and then the one in his stomach from the trident, which needed stitches. The doctor tells you how to go about cleaning his wounds, as Miguel makes it known you’ll be helping him, so you take note of everything for when the time comes.

“Well, that’s everything. The other thing I was thinking about is that we should consider training or at least educating more members on how to work with the system. Y/N had to get Margo in order to get Lyla working again when she arrived at HQ,” Jess says, not realizing Miguel still hasn’t heard the whole story.

Miguel sits on the bed; the hospital gown is draped over his chest now. At the mention of you arriving to HQ and discovering something was wrong, he meets your eyes. Two people have now mentioned you arriving at HQ and being the one to discover something was wrong. Miguel’s curiosity only grows but he doesn’t ask right now with Jess and Peter here. He’ll be asking you soon, even though he notices you avert his gaze. He returns his gaze to Jess and nods.

“It’s not a bad idea,” he says after a few seconds, which surprises Jess. She was expecting opposition. “Let’s put together a list of members that would be interested and suitable for it.”

Jess nods. “I already have a list. These two are included,” Jess says nodding at you and Peter.

Miguel’s eyes turn to you and Peter. “If you’re interested, you’re approved.”

“Oh, thanks, pal! I’m in.”

You nod. “I’m interested, too. Thank you.”

“Then it’s settled. You’ll be the first to be trained,” Miguel says softly. “I’ll personally teach you once I’m back in the lab.”

Peter and you nod, giving him smiles.

“Well, that’s really everything now. We’ll go ahead and head out so you can shower. Don’t worry about lunch or dinner. My husband and I are cooking something for you,” Jess says smiling fondly. “He agreed you two deserve a homemade meal now that things are calmer. You know how he is,” she adds with a smile that you only see on her when she talks about her partner.

“Thank you, Jess. Please give my thanks to your husband as well,” Miguel says pausing, taking the moment to look at all of you. “Thank you for everything,” Miguel expresses, with his tone full of sincerity.

You smile at him as Jess and Peter say something, not finding it necessary to tell him anything else. You’ve told him already. Being here and helping him is not an inconvenience to you. He’s your friend, and you want to be here for him.

Jess and Peter head out shortly after, and you prepare to help Miguel shower.

You set his personal hygiene items out in the bathroom, along with his clothes before you help Miguel out of the bed once again. You walk with him to the bathroom and start the shower for him, angling the shower head so that he can wash the lower half of his body without getting his torso wet, as too much exposure to water can lead to infection. You leave towels out, easily accessible for him and head out but not before telling him to let you know if he needs help or when he’s ready.

You also ask him to take his time so he doesn’t hurt himself as the deeper wounds will take maybe two or three more days to fully heal. And Miguel promises he will.

You head out, closing the door behind you and prepare the items you’ll be needing to dress his wounds once he’s out. You also prepare the soap, washcloths, and two water basins the medical team provided to wash his upper body.

You wait patiently for Miguel to finish and as you do, you clean around the room to give yourself something to do. You fix his bed, fold the blankets, and rearrange the flowers and snack baskets gifted to Miguel since you picked up more items this morning while Miguel was still sleeping from the waiting area. Once done, you look around as you take a sip of leftover coffee from breakfast and that’s when you hear Miguel’s voice. You walk over and knock, asking if you can come in and do so once he replies yes.

When you walk into the bathroom, Miguel is standing in the shower. A towel is wrapped around his waist. The end of the towel is tucked in but he still his hand over it, as if he’s afraid it’ll slip off.

“Everything okay?” you ask. “No issues?”

“No issues, I just took a long time,” he says quietly.

“That’s alright. As long as you don’t get hurt, that’s all that matters,” you say. “Let me grab the other items, okay?”

He nods before you walk out and retrieve the items you prepared earlier. You come in again, feeling glad the shower is large enough to fit about three people despite a shower chair and bench being inside. Miguel watches silently, unable to stop himself from feeling embarrassed about the whole thing. He observes you place the water basins on the shower chair before you check the water temperature to make sure it’s not too hot, as you don’t want to cause Miguel any irritation or discomfort to his sensitive wounds. You finally angle the shower head towards the water basins to fill them as this is how you’re washing his chest. You check the soap that was given to you by the medical team when you remember.

“Shoot, I forgot to ask for something else,” you say, placing the soap on the bathroom counter. “It shouldn’t take me long, hold on.”

“What’s needed?” Miguel asks curiously, as nothing seems to be missing.

You pause, thinking how to word your statement. “I’m going to ask for gloves. It might be better for me to wear gloves to avoid – touching your injuries directly.”

You feel satisfied with your response. You didn’t say that you’ll be asking for gloves specifically to respect his boundaries regarding physical touch. All throughout the weekend you’ve done your best to avoid it, only touching him when there are fabrics in between and when it’s absolutely necessary. Miguel looks down at you with a look you can only describe as soft and tender, but it’s so brief you almost feel like you made it up.

Miguel gazes at you, knowing your true reason for wanting to request gloves, which leaves him unable to stop this warm feeling from taking root in his chest. Tenderness. It spreads across his chest rapidly and he tries his best to hide it even when he’s sure it’s too late to prevent it from showing on his face, but he can’t help it.

Despite everything, how tired you may be and how much he’s already asking of you, you’re still trying to respect his boundaries, something he’s always been silently grateful for. He gives you a small smile.

“I don’t mind,” Miguel says at last.

You nod slowly. “Okay – you’re sure, though? I can quickly go get some. The medical team has been wonderful, and they’d get me a pair in no time.”

“It’s alright. You don’t need to get gloves,” Miguel replies quietly but with a reassuring tone.

You nod again and look at the water basins, they’re halfway filled now.

“Okay… Alright, then let’s get you cleaned up. You might start getting cold with the AC continuously running,” you say, trying to distract yourself from the fact he’s okay with potentially feeling your hands on his skin.

You push away your thoughts regarding that and prepare yourself mentally, as you don’t want to hurt Miguel in the process. You wash your hands thoroughly and go through the steps the medical team gave you in your head as Miguel waits patiently. The two of you decide to start with washing his chest first before anything else as you both figure that it’ll take the most time and then leave his hair for last.

And so, after grabbing the smaller shower bench to stand on because you can’t reach his shoulders all the way, you begin. You start from Miguel’s shoulders and make your way down slowly. You do this in parts. Cleaning the areas gently, rinsing the soap away, and then softly patting dry Miguel’s skin to avoid any infections. Your movements are gentle and cautious, and you continuously ask Miguel if he’s alright; urging him to tell you if you need to be more careful. Miguel assures you he’s in no pain or discomfort. He almost tells you he believes it’s impossible for you to be any gentler with him. Your gentleness makes him feel like some fragile object that may break with just the wrong look. Thankfully, his embarrassment fades slowly as you don’t seem to mind this. You look so focused on the task, like it’s your sole mission to avoid hurting him.

You dip the washcloth into the water basin once more before you slightly push the shower bench away, no longer needing it for height right now until you wash his back. You carry on while Miguel stands there, still holding the towel around his waist with one hand softly, staring at the shower wall and occasionally looking down at you briefly. He distracts himself for a bit by wondering if he’ll have some scars from this. He’s certain the trident wound will most definitely leave one behind since it was the deepest wound, but it doesn’t bother him. Miguel doesn’t view scars or anything of the sort like stretchmarks on a body as a flaw or imperfection. He’s just curious if there’ll be a physical reminder of this event on his body.

Miguel’s thoughts are interrupted when he feels the washcloth lower on his body. You’re about to reach the trident wound at last and that means you’re reaching his lower abdomen. He feels a bit embarrassed as the towel is just inches above his pelvic area. He’s afraid that you’ll find this to be too much but when he looks at you, you have the same look on your face. You’re not eyeing him or helping him with hesitation. You’re only focused on his comfort and making sure that the wounds are clean. He does think about the way you were looking at him earlier though when the team was removing the gauzes. He noticed a look of surprise on your face, but he doesn’t know if it was due to the injuries or his body overall. Either way, he didn’t mind.

You finish at last and rinse the last part before you dry the area softly but effectively, as this is the area with the worst of his injuries.

“We’re done. Do you feel any discomfort? Please tell me if you do,” you state with concern.

“No discomfort. I hardly felt anything,” Miguel reassures you. “Really, you can relax.”

You sigh softly and nod, relieved because you can tell he’s not lying. “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried I was putting too much pressure at times because some of the wounds had – you know – dry blood, so I wanted to clean the wounds properly,” you softly reply. You give him a small smile now, glad the most nerve wrecking part is over. “Alright, let’s wash the rest of your body now.”

You wash the rest of Miguel’s body, washing his arms all the way to his fingers. You keep a neutral face even when you hold his wrists so you can wash his hands, noticing the slits on Miguel’s finger pads from where his talons come out. And of course, you’re sort of in awe at how large his hands are. It’s not like you haven’t noticed before but they somehow look larger without the suit. You push your thoughts away, making sure that Miguel is in no discomfort and that you don’t waste time but even then, you can’t help but notice how his skin feels or how warm he is. You silently think about how you’ve never encountered anyone with such body warmth.  

The two of you are silent the whole time but it’s a comfortable silence. Neither of you feel the need to fill the quiet and besides, Miguel’s mind is occupied with last night’s thoughts, about the new proposition to educate members on how to operate the system, and on top of that, he’s still wondering how you knew something was wrong. He wants to ask but the fact that you averted his gaze when Jess mentioned it makes him think you’re not ready to talk about it. So, he’ll wait for a few days.

You gently wash Miguel’s sides, his underarms, and finally his back having to use the shower bench again to reach his shoulders. You rinse his body, holding a towel above the one wrapped around his waist to avoid getting it damp. Finally, you pat him dry everywhere again.  

You move to his hair at last. For this, the shower chair is used. You arrange it so that you can stand behind Miguel while he sits on it. With everything you need at your disposal, you start by wetting his hair. You pour warm water, making sure that his hair is completely wet before you lather the shampoo in your hands. You proceed to glide your fingers into Miguel’s hair, gently pressing your fingertips into his scalp.

At your request, Miguel’s eyes are closed since you’re worried water or shampoo will get in his eyes. And the moment he feels your fingertips on his scalp, Miguel’s relieved you requested that of him. His lips part slightly in both surprise and delight at the sensation of your fingers in his hair. Fortunately for him, you don’t notice. He quickly closes his lips and bites the inside of his cheek as he continues to feel your fingertips through his hair. His grip on the towel around his waist tightens and for a few seconds he's afraid his talons will come out.

And you, you’re oblivious to all of this as Miguel tries very hard not to let it show. You just continue to wash his hair, noticing more than ever the curls on Miguel’s hair. His hair is silky, and you briefly wonder what it’d be like to glide your fingers through it when it’s dry. It reminds you of the countless times you played with Peter’s hair, something he absolutely loved, claiming it always eased his stress.

Thinking about Peter in this moment leads you to remember the one time you washed his hair. It was shortly after the two of you moved in together. You painted the living room, and he got paint on it, which refused to come out after the first two showers. He ended up sitting on the tub while you sat on the edge, washing his hair a few times until it finally came off. It was the only time you got to reciprocate such intimate act even though he helped you shower on more than five occasions, when you returned home with nasty bruises and cuts, and completely spent from fighting.

Miguel continues to sit still, your hands still washing his hair gently, and he decides to talk about anything to keep his mind occupied and distracted from your hands on his scalp.

“Have you ever received injuries like these?” he asks, keeping his eyes closed.

The question interrupts your thoughts, and it takes you a few seconds to answer.

“To this degree… One time only. I got cut with a sword,” you say, recalling that incidence. “The guy caught me by surprise while I was helping civilians out of the way. I needed a few stitches.”

Miguel hums softly in acknowledgement. “A sword…”

You chuckle. “Yep. Got home afterwards and well, Peter had to help.”

Miguel turns his head slightly at that. “Peter? You didn’t go to the hospital?”

You slow down your movements as you’re now washing the hair near Miguel’s nape. “I was too – precautious, I guess you could say. Paranoid might be the best term here. I feared that the hospital staff would start asking questions or put two and two together about being Spider-Woman. I was afraid that my identity would be revealed. That Peter’s life would be a mess because of me.”

Miguel listens intently, briefly feeling thankful that the conversation is distracting him from your touch.

“So, I refused to go to the hospital. It was a condition I had. Unless it was very, very serious then I’d go but otherwise no. Peter ended up taking a class on wound care and CPR because of my decision, even though he was very against it, but he was always very supportive… Thankfully by the time that happened he already knew how to take care of it. That was the first and last time he had to give me stitches.”

You pause for a few seconds, thinking. To this day you have a slight scar on the side of your stomach, and you carry it with love, for it’s one of the reminders of Peter’s love. You sigh softly and wash Miguel’s hair near his ears now, careful not to get shampoo on them. Miguel sits there thinking about Peter. He never met the man but just from what he’s acquire, he knows Peter loved you. So much, that he took classes on wound care to treat your injuries. Miguel feels grief for you. You had such a beautiful relationship with Peter. He wonders silently if at this point, you’d be married to him. If you’d have a child by now.  

You’re almost done washing his hair when his thoughts lead to a different line of thinking. He hates it because he knows it’s wrong and yet he cannot stop his thoughts. Would you still be here if Peter was alive? Or would you be just another member who reached the conclusion that perhaps he was a lost cause after weeks of him ignoring your coffee cups? Would you go home to Peter and tell him about your distant boss, who spends too many hours on his own in his lab? Would you be here? Would you be a constant in his life the way you are now?

Would any of this have happened at all, he wonders. If Peter was here, there would’ve been no need for him to show up to your apartment that day you were unwell. There would be no talking on Peter’s birthday over cake and ice cream. No sharing of pan dulce and Mexican candy on Dia de los Muertos night, no one to watch the Christmas lights or New Year’s Eve show with. There would be no you.

You wouldn’t be a part of his life the way you are but if Miguel had the power to choose between you being a part of his life or you living your best life with Peter unscathed, he’d choose the latter, even if it meant there would be no you in his life.

Even the thought, the simple thought, that there’s a chance you could’ve never been a part of his life like this, leaves Miguel with a heavy feeling in his chest that rises to his throat. A feeling that he hasn’t felt in a while and it’s one that tells him he has something to lose again. And that’s how he truly knows. He’s been going backwards all this time. Each moment spent with you behind closed doors talking over coffee, or on rooftops gazing at cities across the multiverse, each moment that either of you’ve shared something with the other about your past and loved ones, or each time he thought of you late at night when his exhausted mind wandered off; he’s been slipping backwards all this time and he hasn’t even realized it until now. And despite knowing he’d give this up for you to be happy with Peter, he still can’t help but grief over the thought alone, causing that feeling to grow in Miguel’s throat.

You continue to wash Miguel’s hair and then rinse, laying your hand gently over his forehead to prevent any water from rolling down his face as you do so. You have no idea what’s on Miguel’s mind or what causes him to sigh deeply before he speaks.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I haven’t said it but I’m sorry for your loss. Peter – he sounds like he was an incredible human being.”

You smile sadly as you rinse his hair out. “Thank you… He was. I wish he would’ve had more time. I think – he would’ve done a lot of amazing things. He had so many goals,” you share quietly, remembering all the ideas and plans he had, which had remained exactly that. Just ideas and plans. You finish rinsing Miguel’s hair and give him a happier smile now. “We’re almost done here.”

Miguel nods gently, still thinking about everything. For once, his mind isn’t occupied with tasks regarding the Spider Society but with other affairs. As you rinse the bottom of his hair, squeezing out the water gently, Miguel opens his eyes.

“Y/N?” he says, making you pause.

“Yes?”

Miguel stays silent for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling.

“Thank you,” Miguel says softly, heavy with sincerity.

And the way he says those simple words, it makes your lips part in surprise and endearment, for you sense that his thanks extend beyond this moment. Miguel turns his head towards you, his red eyes meeting your gaze. You give him a smile.

“Always,” you reply quietly, and he nods with a small smile of his own before you finish rinsing his hair.

You finish helping Miguel with the rest. You dry his hair with a towel and brush it. You help him get dressed once the two of you figure out a way to do so without him feeling improper. At last, Miguel stands in his sweatpants, still topless as you must dress his wounds. You do this in the room instead of the bathroom, with Miguel sitting on the fold-out chair you’ve claimed as yours this weekend. You sit on the shower bench and tend to his wounds the way you were told to, applying your own knowledge from experience over the years.

The TV is on as you work carefully. Miguel seems unbothered until you reach the trident wound and the two lacerations on his side, wincing silently which makes you stop to give him a moment. At last, his wounds are taken care of for the day. You help him apply deodorant before you slip a beige jacket on, zipping it up so he won’t get cold.

It isn’t until you’re done fixing the bathroom from the shower that Miguel asks about the vial, reminding you about it. You get it out along with the syringe before you show them to him. You know he can’t do it himself and despite your curiosity, you don’t ask questions about it, deciding that he’ll share details about it if he wants. So, you only offer to help, and he accepts. He tells you how to do it and the process is over in a few seconds with a fleeting red glow in his eyes. You don’t say anything and neither does Miguel, who looks down at his hands as you put away the syringe.

As promised, Jess arrives during lunch and dinnertime to bring the two of you food. You help Miguel eat both times and you notice he seems in much better spirits than the day before. It’s about 7pm when your gizmo goes off, alarming you of a new notification, and then another, and then another. Miguel, who now sits on the bed, turns to look at you with a puzzled look much like yours as you check it. You smile in amusement as you see it’s your friends, wondering if you and Miguel need something, and just overall asking about his health. Another one arrives, making Miguel raise his eyebrow as you look up at him.

“It’s my friends,” you say with a soft smile. “They’re wondering how you’re doing and if we need anything.”

Miguel nods, noticing the smile on your face as you talk about your group of friends. He realizes you probably haven’t seen them since Friday after the weekly dinner that Peter and Mary Jane host. Dinners that Miguel has been invited to but has never shown up to.

“If you want to see them,” Miguel starts. “They can come.”

You hold his gaze with a bit of surprise, which Miguel finds amusing.

“There are no rules against visitors this late in the evening, and even if there were – they’d probably be disregarded as well, just like the outside food rule,” Miguel says with a shrug, making you smile even more.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

You beam at Miguel, and nod before you invite them over. Your visible excitement makes Miguel feel pleased with his decision. And, in the span of ten minutes, you and Miguel are joined by all your friends, including Lego Spider-Man, who was apparently hanging out with Noir. Miguel sits on the bed, surrounded by some of your friends as you hang out by the windows with Hobie and Pav specifically.

You watch Miguel as he talks to Lego Spider-Man, who’s held in Noir’s palm. You notice he gives Miguel a balloon and a flower, from his Lego universe, of course. Miguel nods at something the small superhero tells him, and you smile faintly before turning your attention back to your friends.

Miguel thanks everyone as they approach him, not only for the cards and well wishes but for helping around HQ. When Miles approaches him, he takes the time to thank him for his words – for his forgiveness.

“Wait, you guys know what I just realized?” Pav asks suddenly in a surprised tone.

You and Hobie both raise an eyebrow.

“This is the first time I’ve seen Miguel in normal clothes. This is so weird,” he shares frowning at Miguel, who doesn’t notice Pav’s shock. “It’s like – It feels wrong to see him like this.”

Hobie chuckles and you try not to laugh, catching Miguel’s eyes. He raises an eyebrow at you, as if asking what’s so funny. You shrug and mouth “later.” He nods as Pav continues about how strange Miguel looks until he changes the discussion to Gayatri, his girlfriend.

Miguel looks around the room, now filled with chaotic energy. His eyes land on you as you smile and nod at something Pav says.

He sighs quietly. He thinks about the dream with his family, about their words. He remembers Gabriel asking him to try to move forward and live life, and Miguel telling his brother he’d try. He doesn’t know exactly how he’s going to approach this entirely, but he is going to try. And as he continues to look at you, he thinks of his thoughts from earlier; about the possibility of you not being here or being his friend.

He'd give this up if it meant you’d be happy at home with Peter right now. If he had the power, he would but he doesn’t. He can’t change the past. None of it. No matter how much he has wished he could, it’s out of his hands. And so, he has no other excuse to give this up. No other excuse to push this away or catch himself from falling backwards even though he knows it’s too late anyway. He can’t walk away even if he wanted to.

“It’s gonna be alright, tío,” Miles says out of nowhere, noticing Miguel staring at you.

Miguel looks at Miles and nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Thank you… mijo.”

Miles nods with a grin, his eyes light up at Miguel’s response, which the commander of the Spider Society notices.

“Uh – I just remembered I need to tell Gwen something. I’ll be right back,” Miles says, looking like he can’t believe what he heard, amusing Miguel before he walks to Gwen.

Miguel’s eyes return to you. He has a lot to share with you about his life; like his childhood, the situation with his parents, Gabriel’s death, or why he needs to use suppressants among other events in his life. He’ll share those things with you one day, little by little. The same way one day he’ll say those words that his mouth begs him to say.

You’re my friend.

One day, he’ll claim you as his friend out loud, too. In the meantime, he’ll try to show it through his actions instead.

___________ *Translation for italicized Spanish words:* conchas - Mexican bread shaped like a seashell Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Dead Mierda - Shit Tío - Uncle Pan Dulce - Sweet bread; Mexican pastry breads Mijo - My son ___________ Hi, guys! So sorry for taking a while to update. I honestly didn't expect to take this long writing this part. I had a clear idea for this part but got caught up with family events and just life in general. To the anon that asked when this part was going up and I said last Monday - I'm sorry it took me basically another whole week. 😭 I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter though. My simpness jumped out for this one so bad lol. The speakable things I'd do for this man are unreal!! I just want to hug Miguel and hold him and tell him he's worth it and deserving of love and friendships!!! 🥺

Anyway, I hope to return to my regular Sunday schedule this upcoming weekend. I'm also planning on doing some short drabbles for this month because I can't stop thinking about autumn and Miguel and just how freaking cozy he would be. Also, just very quickly! Some readers have drawn fan art for Nonviolent Communication, which I still cannot wrap my head around. I'm so, so thankful that these lovely artists drew art for it. I never imagined that someone, let alone two people, would take time out of their days to do so. Thank you again so much! 🥹 If you're interested to see some of the scenes from the story, including someone's take on reader's Peter (which @sunsetdoodler somehow managed to draw exactly like my personal vision of him??! I still feel emotional. One of their drawings was also the inspiration for the larger coffee cups for Miguel after we talked about Miguel probably needing more caffeine because of his physique lol) then please go check it out, and show the artists some love, please!! It's all linked on my masterlist. Thank you so much for the support throughout this story. I genuinely love reading the comments and asks I receive, and I hope you guys continue to enjoy the story to the end. I'm just really in awe with how wonderful this community is and I'm thankful to my 6'9" half-Irish, half-Mexican boyfriend for it.

I'm off to sleep now as it's 1am and I've been writing and editing all weekend lol. Take care guys and enjoy the spooky vibes this month!! ❤️🎃🍁

-Alondra🍁

Tag list: @loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @rootin-tootin-morgan @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @mandodinstuff @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea

[n30nwrites]

Chapter 7 - Play Dead

Masterlist here

Warnings - Suicide (still alive, not detailed)

Beta Editor: @letmelickyoureyeballs

Note: Not back, but I need to post ig?? I'm 20 now.

Part of being on the job was having a code name. Maya’s was Silver, named after the element. Yours was Chimera, for reasons that you didn’t like thinking about. Price’s was based off his last name, a little on the nose but the man was cocky. Ghost was silent, unknown. His face was unknown, it matched him. But revealing identities was dangerous in the workforce. It did not take a lot for people to sell people out, which is why you had to focus on calling them the correct names. 

Soap interrupts your thoughts.

“I thought you had a car? That jeep you-”

“I can’t drive. I never really cared to learn how too.” You tell Soap, leaning next to Silver as she just stares outside the window. It took her a different mindset to get ready for a mission, one she was currently mentally preparing for. 

Price speaks up next, “It’s kind of important to know how to-”

“Why weren’t you alive 6 years ago?” Ghost interrupts Price, and you know he thinks it's for a good reason. Since the showdown, things have been tense between the two of you. Silver had to convince you to share a vehicle with them, and you only agreed for emotional support. The vehicle was a Ford Explorer, three rows with two seats in each. Soap was driving, Maya sat next to him and was controlling the radio. Price was next to you, and Ghost and Gaz were behind you. “Laswell told me to stop looking into you. Are you a threat?” He decides to not mention how Laswell only hired the two of you through KorTac because of him and how he mentioned you two were his new neighbors. He figured it would irritate you more and he didn’t care to have a gun pointed at him again.

“To you? Probably. As of right now, no.” You look at the flag of your country of origin. It reminded you of your naivety of the world when you first came here. Things had changed since then. “I was alive 6 years ago, I’m older than all of you-”

“Not possible.” Price cuts you off. 

“It is when you aren’t human.” Price’s eyes widen, and Ghost’s movements come to a halt. “It seems Soap forgot to mention that to you.” They turn to the driver who has a sheepish smile on his face. Even Gaz seems surprised. You scoffed at them, turning back to the window Maya was looking at.

The building was plain. Mainly gray and it looks like a warehouse. It’s meant to be inconspicuous, an unofficial military base. There isn’t even a fence surrounding it yet it is one of the safer buildings in this state. There’s not many people in this building, and the ones that are are mostly human. You could see the state of their souls, including the direction they were heading when this journey of life was done.

The walls were bland, the entire building was quiet. You didn’t like it. Despite looking abandoned on the outside, it was meticulously clean. Maya was the one leading, despite it being her first time in the building. She was going off of instinct, all of them knew it.

The room you entered looked the opposite. It looked, lived in, messy. There were papers scattered on a table, and some pinned to a cork board. It looked like something out of a tv show. But some of the information was redacted, marked off with thick black sharpie covering words of an unknown origin.

Laswell flinches once you enter the room. Your energy is heavy to her, she’s aware that the boys can’t feel it, but she knows they can tell of her distaste for you. She was glaring from the minute you walked in, but smiled brightly at Silver. You didn’t blame her for her distaste, it ran in your guys' blood. Hating each other was normal. Even though you two personally had no beef.

“Chimera.”

“Angel. Nice to see you again.”

“I’m sure.” Laswell hated that nickname. She gets reminded of why she had this position in the first place. Most task forces in SpecGru that are made up of the supernatural were under her order. But you were KorTac, she couldn’t control you. “Your file is blacked out, like usual.”

“Aw, reading up on me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She tells you, “The only reason you’re here is because of your history with Graves.” 

“And the only reason you’re here is because-”

“Get on with the debriefing.” Price interrupts as Maya pulls you away from the Archangel. You don’t stare at her with hatred, despite your words making everyone think you hate her, instead it’s just some neutral stare with a cocky smirk. “We don’t have all day.”

Laswell goes over the mission. It’s always the same. Flying to a different country, killing so many people that Charon himself would regret being born, grabbing files (it’s always files?), and leaving, not thinking about the chaos you left behind. Graves has the support of the Shadow company, obviously. With a hidden location, and a benefactor that no one knew, the only way to get to Graves was to find the people closest to him.

It was time to leave. 

You had separated yourself from everyone, Price had stared after you and kept staring even when you were gone. It was strange. Almost like you blended into the shadows, but he knew you weren’t in the room. 

He just didn’t know where, and it almost worried him. 

Laswell didn’t seem to like you, she seemed disgusted in fact. Though she was smiling with Maya at this moment, and he didn’t understand anything. He wouldn’t get answers either, not from Laswell and not from you.

You were so unbelievably complicated. An intricate web of deceit and neutrality. He had no idea what to think of you. You weren’t perfect. If you were, you would actually tell him what was going on in that beautiful head of yours. He wouldn’t have to fight to have a conversation with you, and you’d actually go on a date with him.

To be fair, he had never asked you. That was what he was going to do after this mission. Just take you on a date, you had to at least give him a chance.

When you come back, you are in full uniform. A helmet that blocked your eyes so he could no longer see them, it was black as well. And finally your gun, an M4 Carbine with a nice scope on it. Silver had a more traditional helmet, similar to his and Soap’s. You seemed different though. 

Angry.

He could’ve sworn your eyes were glowing red. Bright enough for him to see through the sunglasses but dull enough that he had to take a second look at you. But you didn’t look at him, you didn’t look at anyone, and even Maya seemed to step away from you. She talked with Soap on the way to the carrier. You were left alone, in the back of the carrier, at least 5 feet away from the last person, which was Ghost. You didn’t speak at all. He couldn’t hear much from you.

Now that he thinks about it, he couldn’t even hear a heartbeat.

You will always remember your first encounter with violence. After just two days of being on Earth, you had entered a bank in the process of being robbed, and because of your idioticness (really your innocence on everything that was Earth) you died.

You died 7 more times after that. The last time being to your Husband. You packed up and left after that. You didn’t care to remember that now, not when you could die again and meet your maker. Not when your mates could die.

You were angry.

You had the high ground (Anakin) as you stared from the top of a building, watching over Silver, Ghost, and Price. Soap and Gaz had gotten separated but were still alive, considering you could hear the Scot yelling in your ear about how they wouldn’t let up. You aimed at a man hidden behind a vehicle, between Silver, Ghost, Price, and the men from the Shadow Company who are more than determined to kill Task Force 141, no one was paying attention to the man attempting to get away.

No one was until he dropped dead. Then it seemed half of the soldiers that you were in battle with turned your way and you ducked under the building parapet. Your eyes dart to the next building. You could make it, you had jumped the River Styx, You’ve made your way through Jaaniw, Jumped out and into Hell (and even Heaven a few times), Escaped the Lake of fire, you could make a simple jump between a building.

Even while being shot at. You had survived worse.

Your head shook, almost inhuman, and your fangs became refined. Your eyes glowed as did your veins as your nails sharpened. This was who you were. Well, part of it. You were still missing two parts. 

You jumped, higher than needed and the gunshots followed. With your heightened sense of hearing you could hear the surprised gasps from the Shadow company along with the inquiries of Price and Ghost. You sat up and aimed once again, shooting twice, never missing.

You didn’t miss. You never missed. With each kill it seemed you got worse, more bloodthirsty. Panting as you craved this feeling. This was what your Heaven was. Punishing those who deserved it, and what was better?

Getting back at Graves of course. 

You dashed to the opposite side of the wall, before turning around and jumping immediately, not worrying about dying due to height. Your body almost collided with the building but you put a stop to it, your claws extending as you dug into the brick, the building cracking as debris fell with you. You jumped once again, almost like you were climbing down the wall without some sort of protective gear.

You didn’t care anymore.

Your feet hit the ground and you growled. Gunshots were still ringing, and you locked eyes with one of your temporary teammates.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick.

How was he so gorgeous even when sweating his ass off. It wasn’t fair. The words ‘mate’ left your mouth faster than you could think. You were angry at the idea of something happening to him, to both Soap and Gaz.

You turned to your other temporary teammate. Soap was staring, blood covering him from head to toe, he looked worse than Gaz. You rushed over, checking their bodies for wounds. You couldn’t smell his blood, just the enemies. “You guys are okay?”

“What’s gotten into you?” Gaz questions, touching your shoulder, which causes you to pause. You don’t like touch, not from strangers and you have to convince yourself to ignore the shiver from it, and ignore the feelings that rose with it. They were fighting against each other and you hated it. “You seem different.”

“You two should stay near me.” You tell them, “Keep safe. Mates are safer together.” You spoke the last bit to yourself as you turned towards the gun shots. “The rest are over here.” The two followed you as you snuck over to the others. It seemed that the chaos was almost over, just a few more men. And you decided to end it right there.

Sneaking up from behind, you quickly put one man into a chokehold, shooting the other point-blank in the head, his body collapsed onto the ground right as you yanked your shoulder back, snapping the other guy’s neck and dropping the body with a large thud. Gaining the attention of the final man, he shot at you quickly, firing three rounds at your chest, which would’ve hit.

They should’ve hit.

But you were gone, and Soap and Gaz watched as you appeared right behind him, knife in hand as you slit his throat. You were smiling, almost deranged as you stared at them while his body dropped. “Let’s go meet with the others, ay?”

“He’s in the building.” Price tells you all, and Silver’s hand starts to glow as she finishes a rune she was carving on her arm. Before she turns to you. 

“Lift your sleeve.” She mumbles as Price continues to speak. It seemed like you two were in your own little world, she avoids your gaze though. It seemed even your partner was being cautious with you. As if a wrong move could set off a volcano, she gently turns your arm and traces your veins. “You need to calm down.” 

“They were almost hurt. They could’ve been hurt. They shouldn’t be doing this.” You lean closer to her yet you still look at the men behind her.

“They are grown men. They’ve done this before, and they aren’t human. They will be fine.” She reassures you. “You only feel this way because of your current mindset, once you get back home this won’t matter anymore.” She hates the words that leave her mouth, you would care in your own twisted way. The way that meant pushing everyone away because you were hurt once before and therefore every man would hurt you.

She wished you would just get some damn therapy.

Task Force 141 does not notice what is going on until they smell blood. Then their heads snap towards you, where they witness Maya cutting into your skin with her knife, the blood that forms is black. Soap takes a step towards her until you look at him, “Don’t,” you warn them as she carves the first rune into your arm. It was something simple, something that would help you in the near future.

He’s inside the building. It’s four stories, looks to be abandoned but you can sense dozens upon dozens of people from the Shadow Company all looking around, waiting for all of you. It would be intimidating if you weren’t so confident. Plus you would never let humans hurt your mates, nor Maya.

Yourself, you didn’t really care. You always came back.

You weren’t paying attention to Price’s plan, and so while his entire idea was to sneak past everyone (which would fail because despite being trained, Gaz is not the best at sneaking around) and find your target, the less bloodshed the better, your plan was to just find his soul and drag him down with you. But that would require leaving your mates and you couldn’t do that right now.

The debriefing ended, everyone agreeing to sneak into the building through an unused underground hallway because of course this building had one. There seemed to be a gathering going on, you weren’t sure. But the group all walked in a line.

You stood behind Gaz, watching and preventing any misstep he might’ve taken. It was strange to suddenly start caring about them. You knew it would disappear as soon as the mission was over and yet you couldn’t find yourself to care. You would enjoy this for the moment.

You would enjoy him for the moment.

Yeah, you were staring at Gaz’s ass. It was inappropriate, especially when you were sneaking around. You had completely zoned out. Thankfully your face was covered because it was so obvious what you were doing. Especially to Maya who was following right behind Ghost but constantly glancing at you, and despite not looking at her you knew she was rolling her eyes. But you couldn’t care. It would all disappear, these feelings. After the mission it would disappear, so while you had half of your soul, you were going to keep staring. 

You barely hear Price yelling your name. It takes Ghost grabbing your shoulder roughly for you to snap out of it. It reminds you that he’s right behind you, walking in a row. “Something interesting with Gaz, sergeant?” He seems he wants to embarrass you, enjoying your pause.

“It’s Colonel, Second Lieutenant.” You called him by his title, “And just his ass.” You admitted, “It’s nice.”

Gaz just looks surprised, slightly confused but his heart is fluttering. He makes eye contact with you and you just wink. It’s not the time but you couldn’t care. “Let’s just get this shit on the road.” Maya says as she pushes Ghost away in a way to keep the peace between you two. “Let’s just find this guy and get out of here.” Maya glares at you as she says this sentence, trying to get you to act right for the next 30 minutes before you two would inevitably break off from the rest of the group.

It didn’t take long to find him. He held himself up in a meeting room, holding a gun out to everyone, he was severely outmatched but still thought he had a chance. He’s dressed in a nice suit, so nice it felt like he was overcompensating (he was) but he didn’t seem terrified, more like he was cocky. You could only guess that he thought he could talk himself out of this. The room itself looked like it was made to hold meetings, a large round table in the center that could hold up to 18 people, maybe 22 if some more chairs were pulled up. It was decorated in red and had deer heads mounted against the wall. He rotated the gun to aim at each and everyone’s head, but you didn’t waiver. None of them did.

“Tell us everything about Graves.” You ordered.

He told you where he thought Graves was heading, his plan to take over, and how he faked his death. He wanted revenge, as most men did. Then he continued his rant. It was all stupid, you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Being powerful was a drug, addictive but once you’ve had it you become stupid with desperation. Graves was, and so was this man.

“Graves won’t stop until he finds-” he says your name in disbelief and you glare at him, Soap stares at you, but the rest keep up the facade. “Which is strange because he’s supposed to be dead.” He doesn’t recognize you, he wouldn’t with the mask and the complete uniform change, if all he’s seen is a photo of your face, he wouldn’t know it was you. But they did, there was no way they didn’t.

Damn, he really just outed all your secrets didn’t he. Why doesn’t he tell them all about your heritage too while he’s at it.

You stalked closer to him, while he stares at Price. Silver is on the opposite end of where you are, she looks at you while you move closer and she does the same. He decides to start swinging his gun around at both of your movements, not sure who to shoot first, but he was making a choice.

Chimera or Silver.

The choice was obvious to him. And he fired.

“Oh you sexist pig are you kidding me! The woman really?” You exclaim as his bullet collides with her skin, but no longer does she look the same. Her skin has changed, now impenetrable. The bullet just flattens against her skin and drops to the ground. His face changes, and he yells in disbelief. It is always strange when a human suddenly finds out about the supernatural. But he didn’t have anymore time to react as you went over to him and snapped his neck. You felt his soul go through you before he went down, goosebumps formed on your arms because of it. Another soul you had to accept into the gates of hell, which you did immediately. 

“When the fuck were you gonna tell us you were married to Graves?” Price moves fast, stepping quickly to get in front of you before grabbing onto your shoulder, confronting you immediately once the man is down. “This is something we should’ve known.”

“Calm the fuck down, Alpha.” You pushed back, taunting him, “It wasn’t relevant information. And don’t touch me again.”

“You should’ve told us.” Gaz says, interrupting the showdown. “We should know you’re married.”

“Was married.” You were disgusted just thinking about him.

“That doesn’t matter, you have ties to the man we are hunting down!” Soap interjected.

“Oh god this is pathetic.” You rolled your eyes, “Is this what you’re gonna do now? You guys think you’re entitled to my business just because I made a bet with Isis years ago this is just bull shit. Are you guys gonna question me the whole way?” From the way Ghost was looking at you, you got your answer. “This is just great.” You backed away from them. 

“Were you gonna tell us?” Ghost asks.

“Maya, wake me up when we’re at the base.” 

You take out your gun, and shoot yourself.

________________

Taglist

@moooonred @th1kc-skulls @callsign-selkie @thehighlordishere @zforgottensniper @tikitsune @spooky-season-is-best-season @animefan106spots @bitchyzombienacho @azrielsshadows42

[unclewaynemunson]

The edancy siblings saga continues! | AO3 link

So, in case it hasn't been made absolutely clear yet: Eddie is not a stalker. He is not stalking Karen and Nancy Wheeler. That is not what's happening here. Seriously. They just... appear wherever he goes, lately. Like on the other side of a window when he's in town with Jeff, headed to the record store to spend their Saturday morning listening to the newly released Motörhead album.

It happens before he really knows what he's doing. He can't even help it, he's just like that sometimes: he'll panic and make dumb decisions as a consequence. It's not even a real decision, this time; blame it on his poor impulse control. He's nothing but an unwilling participant in this situation.

'Eddie, no,' Jeff quietly protests.

Eddie, yes, Eddie's brain loudly counters.

'We're having brunch here whether you want it or not,' he blurts out while pressing the menu in Jeff's hand.

He doesn't think he has ever had brunch in his life – unless having a coffee and a cigarette with Wayne at 12pm on a Saturday counts.

But here he is, about to have brunch in some fancy way-too-expensive looking cafe because he saw a mother and her daughter through a window and his own feet decided to disconnect from his brain and take matters into their own hands. Or rather into their own feet. Or, well, not their feet, his feet don't have feet, that'd be weird as fuck.

Anyway. Apparently he and Jeff are about to have brunch together, with Karen and Nancy Wheeler perfectly lined up in Eddie's vision.

It's a place where neither Eddie nor Jeff would want to be found dead under any normal circumstances. The interior consists of various shades of pink and beige, there are plastic flowers and pink napkins on every table, and the menu on the wall is written in letters so curly that they're barely even readable. The whole place is filled with people from places like Loch Nora and Maple Street, wearing expensive clothes and with even more expensive handbags on the floor next to their chairs. A group of giggling girls that Eddie recognizes as sophomore cheerleaders is sitting in one corner, an old lady with a bunch of blonde nieces or grandchildren in another one, and spread out across the room are countless couples that are all made up of women looking like they just walked out of a copy machine matched with equally bland and bored looking men in button-up shirts. And, among those people, right behind Jeff's shoulder, the woman and the girl who Eddie is very much not stalking.

'What the hell are we doing here, man?' Jeff hisses under his breath. Eddie doesn't quite know who, between the two of them, looks more out of place in here: the trailer park metalhead or the black nerd in the Star Wars shirt.

'Having brunch,' Eddie states, like it's not only obvious but also a perfectly normal thing for them to do. He's not really looking at Jeff, but rather staring right over his friend's shoulder. He tries to imagine himself somewhere at that table; it conjures a truly laughable image in his head.

Jeff is right: what the hell is he doing here? He keeps finding himself on the fringe of a life that will never be his anyway.

'Eddie?'

It sounds worried; Eddie rapidly blinks a few times to get himself back to earth, back to his own table. The one he's sharing with Jeff, who looks at him like he's afraid that Eddie will tell him he has some incurable illness and will die a tragic death within weeks.

'You wanna tell me what's going on?'

But before Eddie can even begin to answer that, they're interrupted by a woman in a pink apron who looks at them from behind her glasses like she's ready to call the cops on them.

'Would you boys like to order something?' she asks in a tone that doesn't conceal very well how desperately she wants the answer to be no.

'Just a coffee, please, ma'am,' Jeff says, at the exact same time Eddie tells her they'll both have 'The brunch special, please, with extra scrambled eggs and bacon.'

He can barely suppress a yelp when Jeff kicks him underneath the table.

The waitress shoots an annoyed, yet slightly helpless, look back and forth between the two boys.

Eddie gives Jeff a pigheaded glance and repeats his order with emphasis.

'What the hell is this all about?' Jeff hisses at him as soon as the waitress has her back turned to them. 'I know you don't have the money for that, I'm not gonna pay for this huge fucking breakfast, dude!'

Eddie widens his eyes while pushing his lower lip forward, causing Jeff to give him another painful kick against his shin – but also to sigh with his head in his hands, which Eddie immediately recognizes as the ultimate sign of defeat.

'Okay, then. But only if you tell me why the hell we're here.'

Almost subconsciously, Eddie brings his hand up to his mouth and starts gnawing at his already chewed-off fingernails. His curls have finally reached shoulder-length, and he likes the way he can hide behind his hair now.

The thing is, he has never talked about this with anyone ever before. He doesn't know if he can. It's not even like he believes he owes Karen Wheeler any of her secrets; of course he doesn't. He simply feels like it's too big to talk about. He cannot foresee the consequences of letting the truth out. Right now, it's just this thing constantly simmering right beneath the surface of his brain; if he actually talks about it with someone, it will undoubtedly become much, much more than that. It'll become something real – something ugly.

Apparently, Jeff catches him staring, because he turns around in his seat to look over his shoulder.

When he whips his head back, his eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly agape.

'Dude,' he says, slowly. 'You can only deny it so many times; you do have a crush on Nancy Wheeler!'

Eddie groans and buries his head in his hands.

'Oh my God, please never say that ever again.'

'Holy fuck.' Something resembling malicious glee is coloring Jeff's voice. 'You totally–'

'I said,' Eddie emphatically hisses at him between clenched teeth, 'never say that again.'

'Dude, you should totally ask her out! I'd give you a two percent chance she says yes, but if the gods are willing to grant us that miracle, it'll give me a chance to get closer to Barbara! You should–'

Eddie can't take it any more, not one word of this. He has to put a stop to this right now.

'Remember how I told you I never knew who my mother is?' he blurts out, the words stringing together too fast and his voice slightly too high.

Jeff's face instantly changes into one big question mark.

'Look at her – at Nancy,' Eddie tells him in a hushed voice. 'And at Mrs. Wheeler.'

Jeff dares another glance over his shoulder. Nancy and her mother don't seem to notice a thing about the two metalheads three tables away from them. They're caught up in what looks like a nice and easygoing conversation, full of smiles while they're sipping from large glasses filled with ginger tea.

'Now look at me.'

Jeff looks at Eddie for a full five seconds, neither of them saying a word.

'Dude...' Jeff finally all but whispers. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

Before Eddie can even do so much as nod, the waitress appears out of thin air next to them and ungracefully dumps two huge plates filled with a whole arrangement of breakfast foods on their table.

'Nooooo,' is all Jeff says after the waitress has disappeared, his voice dropped down to a conspiring whispering volume. He stretches out the single syllable into eternity. 'No way. Mrs. Wheeler?! How the fuck is that even possible? Are you, like, sure about it?'

Eddie nods. 'Wayne told me,' he confesses. 'Back when my dad got locked up and I came to live with him. He was the only one who knew. Thought he owed it to me to tell me the truth.'

'Jesus Christ,' Jeff says in-between two huge bites from a croissant that's crumbling all over his lap.

'I know, right,' Eddie murmurs.

'So are we like... Watching them?' he asks with a raised brow. 'You do this often?'

'No, man!' Eddie quickly ensures him. 'Not, like, actively, at least,' he adds, feeling a bit embarrassed. He shoves some more eggs into his mouth to buy himself some more time.

'I dunno why I seem to enjoy hurting myself so much,' he finally explains when his mouth is empty again. 'Whenever I see any of 'em, I just... Can't seem to look away. And I can't help but wonder what it would've been like if she'd made another decision eighteen years ago. I know it's ridiculous, because if she had, Ted Wheeler would never have married her, so those three kids wouldn't even have existed, and it would've been me and her against the world or some bullshit.' He sighs again. 'I know it doesn't make any fucking sense. I'm dwelling on things that aren't even real.'

When he looks up from his toast, he sees Jeff giving him this look that kinda makes him regret sharing anything. He doesn't want to be pitied, for fuck's sake.

'Nah, I get it more than you think, man,' Jeff says quietly. 'I always think about what it would be like if my dad was still here, y'know. It's not just the big moments, when people tell me he'd be proud of me or some shit like that. It's especially in the little moments. The everyday kinda shit. I wonder if he'd have shared music with me, if he'd read the same books as I do, if he'd ever help my mom go grocery shopping, what it would be like if he helped me with my homework... It's only natural that you do that, I think. Maybe we all do it, to a certain extent; rewrite history a little bit in our heads.' He gives Eddie a tight, sad smile.

'It's probably even worse for you,' he continues. 'I only see my dad in pictures and I still miss him like hell every single day. But at least I still have my mom to tell the coolest stories about him. I have a grave where I get to mourn him properly. We have all those made-up rituals to commemorate him together. But you – you got none of that. You only got questions that got answered with more questions. And you get to see your mother and your siblings walk around town all the time, knowing that they have no clue who you are.'

Eddie keeps his gaze focused on the crumbs on the table to prevent himself from showing any emotions he doesn't want to show. Damn, what would he be without Jeff and his boundless amounts of wisdom?

'Wait, does she know?' Jeff suddenly asks.

When Eddie looks up, he sees a frown on Jeff's face, like he's worried about something.

'I don't think so,' he answers. 'I ran into her at Melvald's once. Tried to talk to her, just to see what'd happen. Made a complete fool of myself, of course. It was embarrassing as shit, but at least I can be pretty sure she thought I was just some random lunatic.' He sighs. 'But I'll never be entirely sure.'

Three tables over, the Wheeler ladies have finished their tea and are getting up from their seats.

'You're right, it was stupid going here,' Eddie mumbles.

'It's okay, man,' Jeff says, still in that soft voice filled with understanding. 'The food's pretty amazing. We still got plenty of time to go to the record store when we're done with this. Speaking of which... I bet you fifteen dollars to buy Another perfect day that you can't finish your plate before me.'

Eddie stares at him blankly. 'I don't have fifteen dollars.'

Jeff's face breaks out in a wicked grin. 'Well, in that case you better buckle up and finish your eggs real soon, Munson.'

It doesn't entirely take Eddie's mind off the Wheelers, but he appreciates the gesture so he grins and starts viciously attacking a bunch of sausages. And when he spares a glance towards the bar to see the horrified look on the waitress' face, he finds himself unable to hold in his laughter.

[oscconfessions]

Coming OUT as a Samuel Thornbury arm rider(NOT dick rider that feels wrong to say that)

I swear to god people will shit so hard on his writing (imo) only because Tpot 8 wasn't rhe most amazing and perfect episode(or post split but I'll talk about it later). You all will see a tpot episode you loved and go "OHHH MY GOD BEST IN THE SERIES!!!! CARY AND MICHEAL COOKED!!" and whilist usually they are a BIG part of why the episode is so god(credit where credit is do), Sam will be the one to write it. You all will talk about how well writeen a tpot episode is, or how fun was that episode to watch and never give him credit for writing him.

Why do you all hate him? Because he wrote a good Chuck of post split? Look I barely finished post split, I didn't like it at all. But that was 3 years ago you realise writing can improve? Don't get me wrong it wasn't good(imo) I'd say it was shit, but do you want JNJ to hire people based on "OH! you did a Poopy episode once, were gonna have to remove you from this communtiy forever!" I know this might sound Wild but writing a shitty season of a bfdi isn't a warcrime.

Do you all hate him because he gave tpot a plot? No hate to Cary I do enjoy his writing, but tpot 4 -tpot 6 are honeslty kind of bland. Like full on regression to the first season of bfdi. Cary can write good modern bfdi episodes, he has enoguh whimsy to do so. However tpot 4-6 feel like filler to me, they aren't filler but they feel like it. I don't want to sound rude but as the biggest object show bfdi should at least try to standout/live up to your Legacy. (Basically I wouldn't shit on a smaller object show for having this format) instead of having a filler full on season. I also think it dosen't align with their vision for tpot. But eh I won't go too deep because I feel like Cary and Micheal are aware of this, and that's why they gave the writing Staff to someone else. (Also I feel Cary knew his wiritng wasn't suting tpot, since it was ment to be the more serious show. Like Sam did not stab Cary and Micheal 40 times and force them to make him the writer for Tpot, that's kind of not how projects work guys)

Going back don't a lot of you LOVE satomi for bfb?(Dgmw I love satomi for bfb too) But why is Sam suddenly this iredemmable writer for DARE putting plot in your bfdi!! (That's not say satomi dosen't have her detractors but they are on reddit I don't think satomi is a r/bfdi reddit user b) MOST OF THEM whilist kind of annoying don't go out of their way to Harras satomi(from what I've seen))

Be cirtical all you want but don't harass him for it! IF this matters to you THIS MUCH go and take a shower and watch something else then bfdi/object shows or watch a smaller object show. If you can't praise another bfdi project without feeling the need to mention him in a negative light YOU MIGHT BE OBSSED WITH THIS MAN, if you can't help but think about how much you hate that guy and his writing 24/7 you might need to touch grass and watch something else (adventure time is really good! I recommend it.<3). If your going to harass somebody over a show about A ice cube who seeks revenge mabye you should step away from the keyboard and find a different way to get your rage out.

Quick "Notes" incase anyone takes me out of context/makes assumptions aboit me:

It's perfectly FINE to dislike Samuel Thornbury's writing or him as a person whatever reason you have! It's perfectly normal to be critical of public people! I'm slightly cirtical of a few of the Bfdi writers/team memebers myself. BUT DON'T HARASS THEM, ESPICALLY OVER THE WRITING OF ALL THINGS.

I am not saying he should be the only writer! Or that he is the only good one. I'm all in for more people writing main episodes or more episodes with cowriters. I thoguh the new tpot 10-11 were amazing and those episodes had 4 writers! Shit the newest tpot ep was enjoyable and it had 2.

You can be critical of post split, Just don't blame EVERY single issue with it on him yada yada.

I don't know Sam personally, I do not have a parasocial relationship with him. It's just some of you are wayy WAYYY to harsh/weird when it comes to critizing him. And I think that kind of vaugeposting only makes the communtiy worse/dosen't help anyone

Thank you<3

(Sorry for grammer mistakes, also tell me if I got any info wrong this is ask on a ask blog I'm not doing the work to check if I got every small detail right. on this to watever mod reads this I'm so sorry)

.

[chiimeramanticore]

hello juno, first of all (unfortunately, things shouldn't be like this) It's not unrealistic to have two, three, or several bad days in a row, i hope this doesnt sound mean because it's not supposed to be, it's supposed to be a " don't blame/think bad about yourself because of this because this is not your fault". I truly hope that things will get better to you

if you feel like answering an ask:

do you have any headcanon for your rae sona? or ones for any other members of the band that you haven't shared/want to talk again ( sorry if this is a bland ask)

Also, i'm the what cover of the rae would you like to exist/ yes man anon, i wasn't going to make a response because i didn't know if you would find it weird or not, but, your enthusiasm did convince me to play the game, i was on the fence because seeing some images of the game i didn't know if it would be a type of game i would like to play, but who cares, it's going to be a good thing to try something new and not play the same two games over and over and over again, i can't buy it now but still, im suprised with the price, i live in another country where dollar is very expensive, so by the normal calculus it would be around 50-58 but i looked on steam and it is 39! genuinely made me happy lol

And about the cover ask, all you said, very based, and glad to see more people keeping hours long playlists of "man my fav robot band would rock singing this" i would love to see your playlist and the explanations! Ofcourse, if you ever feel like making it public

ok answering the yes man bit first again HOLY SHIT LMAO???????? thats amazing im so happy lol . i also didnt think it would be my type of game going in, and in some ways i still wouldnt expect me to like it lol (theres what i can only describe as "political drama" which is usually so boring to me but its so fun that i didnt even really register it as political for a while) but im so sucked into that world its so fun and i hope you enjoy it too. feel free to keep sending me updates !! i love seeing how other ppl's runs shake out

i dont have too much to say about my raesona yet sadly! have been too busy daydreaming about yes man to daydream about beach bear lately lmao. here's just about everything i have on them so far: theyve been working at showbiz for ~3 years, bouncing between entry-level jobs until their manager finds out they used to do theater camp in the summer and despite that Not Being The Same Thing for the sake of not having to hire someone else they get dumped into being the stage tech with basically no clue what theyre doing. in their time there they'd developed an embarrassing little crush on beach bear but had also been too shy to approach, but with such little distance between them now, theyre sorta running out of excuses lol

also yeah i can drop the playlist soon! i wanna make the list first like i said but i also dont want this ask sitting around until i do it lol so ill just post it separately or rb this or smth later

[vintagecandyshop]

SO LET ME TALK ABOUT THE VILLAIN FROM WISH

Spoilers (barely) ( I haven't even seen the movie just the music video )

I need to rant about this ok

The problem is obvious at a glance, right? How did they manage this I don't understand-- I really feel like the most damning issue with Disney's modern art style is that they are petrified... of making someone look ugly. Ugly by their standards. Or the 3D art style limited their ability to, at least. Like, what always made the villains in classic Disney so much more iconic than just a background character or sometimes even the protagonist is that they were willing to cut loose and make "extreme" body types and facial shapes, since they had the freedom of making a character you weren't supposed to like. Dr Facilier being what most consider the last classic Disney villain, had an incredibly oddly shaped face, he was spindly and lanky in a way that made him expressive but conveyed that he was not soft or warm. Gaston, another character meant to be comically attractive, had a massive cleft chin, sharp little eyes that could be charming when happy but turned ice cold when angry, and this exaggeratedly triangle-esque upper body. But look at him? Magnifico?? Eyes much too big and bubbly for a villain design, they can't convey anger at all, completely mundane and forgettable features, ( it doesn't even scream "cartoon man that is handsome" to me except maybe the unusually long eyelashes?) they did absolutely nothing memorable with the shape of his hair, his body type, even his clothes offer nothing totally unique to his silhouette like say-- Malificient's dragon wing cloak. And I blame the 3D animation department for this, honestly I do. How much do you wanna bet that he had some amazing concept art design and the second he had to be translated to 3D he lost all his personality and iconic shapes? Its this obsession with pretty, soft roundness and realistic facial structures that have to logically move on a rigged 3D model that just sucks the life out of their villains istg.

And his villain song? Ugh.... yknow its not..... terrible? My first response was " I could listen to this without being annoyed " but the thing is-- I can listen to it because its just a normal pop song. A pop song about an unusually aggressive and narcissistic man, but its not a musical number. It doesn't convey anger and spite and entitlement and cruelty-- not without stopping itself with a self aware joke. Its bland and inoffensive and overly modern just like his design, just like the way he talks, just like everything about the film.

[aonungyoufuck]

Runaway {pt 2}

Parts: One , Three

Synopsis: Small Family moment with your Brothers. Ao’nung confesses why he stayed. Ao’nung hissing at his mom 

“Sister. I bring you my hunt today” Lo’ak said barging in as if you hadn’t been asleep. 

Groaning, you rubbed your head as you sat up. “Eywa, Lo’ak you could have at least made noise just so i wake up normally”

“Sorry” 

You could see Neteyam come up behind him and smacked him. 

“You’ll be happy to know Everything is well in the family. Cant say Lo’ak hasn’t gotten into a few scuffles here and there however”

“ I have not!”

“Of course he did”

Neteyam nodded. He had always been able to confide with you as you two both had the same responsibility to look after your youngers. “I am guilty of it too tho. Had to make sure this Skxawng didn't get lost as sea as well” 

“Translation: He wanted to have fun” Lo’ak Said slicing the fish he had Brought to you

You could only roll your eyes as you took a bit of the fruit that had been left there. 

“I heard Ronal isn’t at all too pleased to know Ao’nung stayed here last night” Neteyam said

“HE STAYED HERE? AT NIGHT? WITH YOU?”

“Oh please I was asleep. Apparently the fool slept sitting” you spoke watching Lo’ak prepare your food. Luckily enough he was getting better and better. Perhaps your mother taught him a thing or two. “However, I am going to ask Ronal if she could Teach me. Not train me per say but hopefully something so i can repay her kindness. I mean once this baby is born its really just Tsireya. I would like to help her, you know?” 

“Hmm Maybe. If Ronal would allow you such” Neteyam said Splitting the food to you three. 

“Where’s The rest of the family?”

“Mom is preparing some food for Kiri and Tuk. I think Dad’s still Out with Tonowari? I dont know for what really tho so i cant really say” Neteyam spoke handing you bits and pieces of the fish and fruit.

It made you smile, and roll your eyes. You weren’t a child but it was nice of him to know he still cared for you as such. Even tho you werent at all that much younger than him. 

“I see” You nodded as you continued to eat. You should give Lo’ak credit for the meat being prepared well. 

“Its nice all of us. Eating like this” 

“Yeah cause we don't eat” You spoke feeling a hard slap to your side. “LO’AK?”

“You know what i mean okay”

“Lo’ak do not hurt our sister. Cant you see she is on her deathbed” 

“You both are the worst you know? It would be you dead if i hadn’t stepped in you know?” 

It was just this for a while. You didnt count the seconds that passed. You just basked in it. But soon they had to leave. You bid them farewell and to tell the rest of the family to enjoy their night. As you sat there. Waiting. And it hadn’t been long till you heard the jostling of beads at the door. 

“You may come in” 

To no one's surprise but maybe Ao’nung himself. He stepped in. “Mother brought this” he spoke, handing you the bowl of very still Wet Algae along with some roots that had been boiled alongside it. “Its suppose to help with any internal pain you may feel"

“Thank you” If it was bitter tasting well you didnt have to let him know. “ i heard you got one nasty cramp on your back since you stayed here last night”

“Well you heard wrong”

“Ao’nung. I saw you” You said giggling a bit to see his ears flatten. 

“Alright well what do you want me to do? You were basically giving me your last words last night. Cant exactly sleep knowing id be blamed for leaving you alone”  He said moving the mess your brother’s didnt exactly clean up. 

“Im sorry i left you on such a bad note” You apologized. Drinking the last bit of the bland broth and chewing on the roots. 

“Man. Your Brothers suck at cleaning you know?” 

“They tried their best” You could only chew harder. The question is harboring in your mind “may i ask you something?”

“You already did.  But go on” Ao’nung sat in front of you. 

“Do you think, I could ask your mother to teach me some stuff? Not Tsahik training or anything of that sort. But just to help her when your sibling is born?”

“I mean i dont think she’ll like it all too much. But she's a reasonable woman. So i know she'll teach you if you ask” Ao’nung took your fruit bowl from you and began eating “But you are the most Reasonable from your siblings too. Given you haven’t gotten into fights and you have learned our ways faster than your siblings. Well aside your sister” 

“ i guess you’re right, Maybe i did more good in not joining in on kicking your ass”

“Pff. You think you can beat me?”

“In anything Fish lips”

Ao’nung couldn't help but laugh. Making you smile as you watched. 

“I think this is the first time i heard you laugh like that. Its nice” you smiled at him looking at the floor as you felt your hair fall down. 

“Was the way i laughed before ugly or something?”

“Way to ruin the moment” you laughed a little rubbing your temple. “I meant in a sense where you aren't laughing out of mocking someone y'know?”

“Oh”

“Yeah oh” You Were getting tired. The food and the pain numbing as you laid down. “Now if you may. You better get going before your mother gets mad for you staying here again” you didn’t wait for a respond. Not that you could hold the sleep coming to you

But Ao’nung didnt move. His spear now at his side as he sat between your sleeping form and the only entrance to this place. He didn't know why. But something in him told him to just protect you while you were in this vulnerable state. 

He thought himself crazy. Why was he so persistent on caring for you? Why did he agree with his mother? Why wasn’t he bothered? But seeing you just lay there made him think. Made him fall back on seeing your body heave and wheeze with the pain of having an open wound. You were nearly dead. You almost died. It did not only affect Tsireya but himself too. 

He just kept watch grip tightening when he heard the faintest of noise. Tail laying atop of you making sure you kept breathing. Letting out a low hiss when he saw the curtain open. But quickly dropping his ears. 

“Ao’nung! Its time you head home” His mother spoke. Stern and cold. Looking down at you as you didnt stir. 

“But”

“No, I will not argue this. You are to go home and she will be sleeping here tonight alone. You can see her again tomorrow evening. I dont know why you want to but you can then. For now go home and head to bed” She ordered leaving no room to argue. 

She watched as he bit back his tongue. Standing up spear in hand as he walked out. Ronal only turned to look at you. Placing the wet paste on top of the sheer wraps around you. “ I dont get what this boy sees in protecting you. You are safe and alive. It should be enough” She muttered out. 

“Nete..yam” 

She looked at you. Your worried expression trembled as your hand shook and moved slightly, reaching out. She could only sigh in exhaustion. ‘Soon’ she thought as she had to think. She would rather swallow her pride than let Neytiri help her as she had offered for helping her children. But realistically what other option was there, she thought. 

“Hush now. You are well as is he” she could only whisper as if to ease your worried mind. Eywa had saved you, and that should be enough.

[jodiie-leighanne]

Just walk through the door, it's easy four steps forward and push, nothing complicated about it.

Fuck's sake, half an hour I've been stood here staring up at the high-rise building urging myself to stop being a coward and enter. Yet the battle within my own mind is halting any movement.

Woman you booked this - Don't back out now.

The inner voice is right, I did seek out this place, I did arrange the meeting and it was all done with confident vigour. Now it's happening, I'd rather go back home and chuck on my tracksuit. Cement below was wearing out with each pace, nail beds destroyed from the chewing.

Fuck, fuck, fuck...

"Sorry Miss... there you go" Freezing, I look up to see a man in a well-tuned three-piece suit staring curiously up to me, arm outstretched as he kept the door ajar for me to enter. Furrow in his brows from Impatience.

Clearing my throat, I nodded muttering a 'thanks' striding past him. Scents of pine wafted in my direction, piano cords sounding through the speakers nervously I tucked a stray strand behind my ear. I shouldn't be in her, I stick out like a sore thumb.

Gaze cast to the plush charcoal carpets, I felt eyes on me as I tilted my head to meet them. Two females sat behind a desk identical slick back low buns, painted lips and pearly practised smiles. One stood flattening out her shirt breasts heaving as the buttons hung on for dear life.

Yep, I definitely shouldn't be here. Tugging the hem of my oversized t-shirt, uncomfortable in my own flesh once more. She called out "Hi there, do you have an appointment?"

"Y-yes I do at th-three" Stuttering as flitting my hues up and down, she is flawless the personification of pretty.

"Ok, name please", Grinning as she sat back down tapping away at her keyboard.

"Devon Dempsey" She hummed in response. Continuing to click away whilst the other eyed me closely.

"Room number six straight down this hall, first door to the left" I didn't say a word, just heading in the direction she gave me. Hearing cackles when they thought I was out of ear shot, sighing I dipped my head one more. Even after all these years it hurt to be the laughingstock, the girl everyone would tease.

I was dimly regular, even if I wasn't they wouldn't be able to see past the giraffe in the room which is me. Standing at five foot ten inches, legs longer than most sonnets. I couldn't stand it, longing to be petite and pocket sized. As for the rest, my hair was deep brown reaching my hip bones, breasts a comfortable size for the proportion of my figure. Prominent dips to my hips, accompanied with a jiggle in my rear.

Did people pay me attention? Yes, never the kind I wanted or appreciated no one could see past my height. Hence why I'm nineteen, never had a boyfriend, never been kissed. I don't want you to feel sorry for me in the slightest. Personally, I blame my genetics, which can't be changed so I suffer in silence.

Deep breaths, in and out. Remember your morning affirmations.

Another barrier to cross as I reach the room, shaking out the nerves I tap the door thrice, met with a small 'it's open', pushing it to peek around the corner. There's a man standing back to me laying out different supplies on a wooden pop-up table.

"Dempsey?" Beckoning over his shoulder. "Yes, yes that's me" Chin up high and proud. His shoulders jutted at my faux confident reply.

"Come further in, I don't bite" feeling the blush rise on my cheeks as I slide in, shutting the door behind me. Edging towards a forest leather sofa, debating whether to sit or say standing. "You can sit I'll be just a minute" I do as I'm told.

Legs crossed? No, just sit normal. What is sitting normal? Dear god, I give up with myself.

Breath. Keep breathing.

Taking in the room it's bland, nothing personal or indication of warmth just plain white walls, a desk, sofa and a stall that's it.

Clasping of hands bring me back to the matter, standing before me head on is a slender built stark haired Adonis, breathtakingly porcelain with piercing eyes; they remind me of when it's a clear blue day and the fogged clouds threaten to take over coverage, entrancing in every way. Soaking in his form, he's also quite tall from a guess, around six foot two. Don't even get me started on the paint splattered bare torso, pinks and purples speckled over each prominent muscle, biceps bulged with crossed arms, black linens hung low.

He himself is a work of art.

Chuckles accompanied by clicking pulled me out of my gawking - Shit that's embarrassing.

Turning his chair chest flush to the metal. Smarmy look plastered across his plumped lips more so the bottom then the top. Resting his chin on a knuckle, wisps of platinum rested above darker eyelashes.

"So, you're booked for two hours if I'm, correct? Do you have an idea of what you want?"

Palms sweating as I gulped, he is intimidating to say the least. Exhaling deep he speaks again, "Don't be nervous Miss Dempsy, I do this for a living there is nothing I haven't done or seen not just professionally speaking" I giggled a little at his honesty.

"Let's start with the formalities shall we, I'm Draco Malfoy. I've been an artist for pfff - for four years now, I did a lot for fun in my younger years" I was fully engaged, he looked calm talking about his passion. "I aspire to make people's visions a reality, something they can display with pride" Pausing briefly he glared into my soul, "Devon, tell me yours?"

Here's your moment, take it, don't waste his time.

"I-I urmm -" Breath. "I've always struggled with my-my image a-and I wanted to have some-something to prove me wrong"

"And how do you see yourself?"

"Truthfully?" He simply nods on time. "I'm an eyesore, there is nothing beautiful about me I'm just that lanky girl, that's all I'll ever be" Welling in my globes made me look at my fiddling digits in shame.

Scoffing, "You really believe that?" Stuttering a yes, his head shook dangerously, "Then you're an idiot, now get undressed and let me show you how wrong you truly are"

Widening my lids as my jaw dropped a gape. "Un-you want me to get naked?" I expected a still portrait, elegant and ethereal, not to be exposed fully in front of a stranger, especially one as attractive as Malfoy.

"This is a nude art session darling; did you not check into it further? Let's begin hmm... dressing room in the corner, pop on a robe and come out when you're ready" begrudgingly, I did so, debating whether to run to the exit allowing him to keep the money.

I stripped behind a makeshift curtain. Fastening the belt of the gown, a pearly silk fine material, which felt like a blessing against my flesh.

As soon as I drew back the sheet he turned to me, stepping closer and closer his sights fixated on my hardly covered body. Curl on the corner of his mouth.

Slowly a hand extended towards me, which was taken with a tremor. His thumb traced my veins gently, soothingly. "Come on" He cooed, guiding me to three canvases, two placed on a covered floor, the other hung against the wall.

One we reached them he dropped his hold, "Take off the robe, and turn around" Irises soft and trustworthy.

I begged inwardly that he wouldn't judge me, please don't make fun of me, please. Pivoting as I pinched my eyes shut, carefully undoing the knot, letting the material glide off my shoulders with a gasp, chest hammering. Feeding off the salacious nature.

"Magnificent..." Hardly a whisper came from Draco. "Palms facing me"

Hissing at a glacial damp brushing tickled the skin, he laughed quietly "Should have warned you it was cold"

He continued once both hands were completed, he moved on to my backside, meticulous strokes drifting lower. "Sit down on the first canvas please" scuttling over with an uncomfortable squelch. He directed me how he envisioned, Palms facing out, fingers separated, body weight leaning on them as my ass touched the surface. Left leg is flat, the one he painted. Bending in front of me grasping the opposite ankle to colour the soles of my feet. Brows creased as he concentrated, perfecting with each flick of a wrist.

Captivating. Placing it done, I sat in that pose aware everything is open on show for him. Until he demanded I cautiously stand. Glancing back at the painting, I couldn't hold the smile in.

Warmth of a soaked cloth started me as he began washing off the paint before it dried, making it harder to remove. Drying me off after, he began with the second.

Relaxed for once, in the vessel of myself.

Draco's Pov.

Moving her into place our core temperatures contrasted as I touched her lightly, she is now stomach flat doused in purple, perched on her shins. Round peached ass waving in the air. Fuck how I want to my face in her, lap up each drop of arousal I know I'd make her produce.

Have her singing praises, calling out to the higher beings begging, begging for me.

Never have I been this invested in a client, I want - no, need her to see her beauty. The erotic, appealing structure of her sun kissed layers. Cock incredibly solid, thanking myself for choosing to wear loose trousers today otherwise it would be noticeable. Maybe I want that to gauge her reaction, I can see she is pure. Never been touched, tasted or appreciated. I'd appreciate the fuck out of her.

Insecure over her height? Preposterous, she is an Amazonian goddess, sheer architecture of her limbs is the chef's kiss. I've always proffered women closer to my own size, I'm a sucker for eye contact.

It's a kink if you will.

Plus, short women are exciting. It's just they are limited in their sexual positions and capabilities. Also, the neck cramp from crouching down is a bitch. I want them right there, nose to nose.

Cleaning her once more before the last vision. Although now it's going to have an unexpected twist.

"Almost done, you have been wonderful", She blushed at the praise. Good to know.

"Stand spine to the wall kitten and look at me nowhere else but me", dipping my palms into the palette. Lashes fluttering in confusion, tongue darting to wet parched lips. I swagged to lessen the distance. "This one's more hand on," I winked. Met with a blank expression.

"May I touch you, Devon?" Despite her paying for this it's about to get more explicit than she bargained for. Consent is key, in every circumstance.

"Y-yes, you may"

My breath fanned her face as I trailed a fingertip up her sternum watching as she took a deep intake of air. Mewling with devoir. As suspected, no ones showed her this before.

"Have you ever been touched", circling up and around the swell of her breast, her eyes following my every move. "No- no I haven't"

That makes my dick pulse knowing she is a blank image reading to be outlined by me.

"Shall I continue then - let me show you for priceless you are"

She moaned in response as I squeezed her boobs in sync using a thumb to stroke her hardening nipples. Purring vibrated from her throat.

We shouldn't be doing this. I should not be doing this.

But I am, and I will.

Keeping a firm hold on her chest, free hand venturing lower grazing her clit. She beamed with a sigh that's exactly what she needed.

"Is that where you need me hmmm? Needy, needy little one, aren't you?"

"Y-Yes, I'm needy for you" Growling with a fresh lit flame, pushing forward to capture her lips in a wanton kiss. Shocked at my advances she stilled before returning it.

Beginning to gather her juices on my fingertips I pushed a singular one into her opening, she whined moving onto her tiptoes backing further into the plaster board. Our mouths gaped causing the kiss to break, sharing oxygen as she moistened and squirmed. Guiding another digit through her walls I thrust back in harder, causing her to lurch and grasp my shoulders. Crimson shades tainting us both, "Fuck- you feel so good around me baby. Tight pretty thing" I smirked at her wordless answers, breath taken from my actions. As I curled inside her, twitching to reach that spot that'll drive her mad.

"P-please Draco" Just hearing my name roll off her tongue made my eyes roll as I felt the pre cum oozing from my tip. Pleading to drive into her oh so accommodating channel. "Please what kitty?"

"M-more"

"You want more, yeah? Patient precious, I've got-so-much-more-to give you" I muttered against her lips with each nudge. Inviting another finger to knock her over the edge of pleasure. The pain below my waist from desire is agonizing. This is about her making Devon understand her worth.

I'm ravenous as my movements bring her to rapture, tongue diving into her mouth exploring and feeling all of her.

Nails pinching the skin on my back as she bucks subconsciously against my hand swollen nub rubbing the heel. Feeling her faint flutters brings me awe.

"You're so close, I know it feels different. Accept it - let the feeling drown you", Devon squeals as I swallow it accepting each and every noise.

"I-I can't, I don't know..." Her figure writhed against me, as I stooped to suck a perked nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue around. "Draco, Draco..." Her pussy began shuddering, pining for gratification.

Moving up to her face again, foreheads merged, "Shhh, that's it ... Good girl, cum for me" She thrashed and screamed my name in melodic chants. Soaking my fingers, striving to give her the full orgasm as she melted in my arms. Humming praises to her as I stroked fallen locks back in place.

"How'd that feel?" I knew the answer, I could see it in front of me, but my ego needed to hear it. "F-fucking amazing" She huffed, holding me for support. Chuckling, I peck her sweaty forehead.

Feeling extra balsy in the moment, "Want to feel something even better?"

Meeting my eyes she chortles, choking out, "There's better?"

"To be precise, I have eight inches of better, just yours for the taking" Sparkling in delight she eyed me stopping at my bulge before hurriedly nodding.

"Get on your knees then and make it wet for me", unsure she lowered as I began to pull myself out of the confined slacks and briefs, skimming them down to my knees. Cock hanging heavy and weeping, as she licked her lips in anticipation for a taste. "Now, open your mouth and if you'll let me darling ill just take control. You don't have to do a thing, just breath through your nose ok?"

"O-ok Draco", those doe eyes, so innocent. Poor baby. Grasping the tendrils of her hair I guided myself into her mouth, inch by inch. Teasingly, until I couldn't take it. Ramming my cock in emitting a gag from her. "Relax your throat let me" Instantly she does just that. Tears are already streaming down her cheeks as I brush them. Hips rocking to a lustful rhythm.

Keep composed, this isn't the end game. Her cunt, that's the finishing line.

Groaning as her cheeks suck in, getting lost in the feeling. Prick twitching, I pull out fast.

"On your back over there" tipping my head to the tarp, one hand stroking as I watch her crawl then take her place. To her surprise I let go of my length for a moment, picking up a tin of autumn orange, daring to chuck the contents over her laying body.

She gasped as it collided with her already blotched skin creating new colours as they mix, getting down to strive between her thighs. "This might hurt, I promise it'll feel so good though I can assure you"

"I-i don't know - I've never" silenced her with a kiss to take away the doubt, I'd never harm her intentionally, that's not my way of doing things.

"It's ok - alright we don't have to" Reassuring her there's no pressure, we don't have to do this. It can stop here. I wouldn't be mad.

"I want to..." She pleads. Her tone is strong

and sure.

"Are you on something? I don't have a condom; this never usually happens" we snicker together. As she sits up to be the one engulfing me with affection.

"No, it's ok just -just pull out" Nodding, I kiss down her torso lips avoiding the pool liquid.

Guiding my tip to her slit, sliding it up and down to get ready for her. Tenderly touched her hip to keep her in place, asking again for consent. Before pushing in, her face contorts as she winces, halting to allow Devon to adjust, keeping that same strategy until I bottom out.

"Holy shit, you feel amazing"

"I-its hurt" Leaning in I peppered kisses all over her letting her know its ok. "Do you want me to pull out?"

Silently she pondered for a second or two, "The pain will stop? I-I'm worried ill bleed" controlling the sexual demon wanting to release closing my eyes, the thought of her blood covering me makes me carnal. A real show that I was the one taking her purity. And she is willingly allowing it.

"Beautiful, sweet girl" running my nose up her jaw line ghosting if a touch. "I'm going to make you feel out of this world"

"Ok, I believe you, y-you can move now"

Boy did I rutting with passion and purpose into her sheathing her neck with my hand. Pained look on her expression was gone, just lust left. Stunning, absolutely stunning, she is.

Grinding my hips for our pelvis touches, handful on her ass as I sit back on my haunches, luscious legs slung over my shoulders. Lips tucked in her teeth holding back her cries. Plucking it out with my thumb and forefinger tutting, "Be loud, scream for me Devon. Bleed for me" .

Hues blacken as I groan fuck these feelings intense, she needs to come again for me, I'm reaching the end.

Dropping a thumb to her clit figure eights with light pressure, yielding from my rancour invasion. Droplets forming on my temple, burly shoulders. Our heights match but she looks petite under my dense stature.

Damned delight echos from the leggy brunette motivating me to strive harder. Fuck her to delirium, "cum for me baby, let me feel it please-oh fuck" Pulling out flipping her with ease onto her stomach, adjusting her hips to angle up I re-enter her sopping pussy. This position allows me to plumet deeper, receive more friction. Balls slapping as I hold her face down. 

Her body writhed and convulsed, fluttering and gushing I can't control myself the animalistic need to paint her walls "I-ahh I'm gonna cum Dev"

"Pull-pull out please" She looks like she would be a great mother maybe one spill wouldn't hurt "Draco..."

Not today, Gasping as I remove myself rolling her back spine to the floor, yanking fast to reach my ecstasy, ropes of cum merging with the painting drying to her. Now that's a work of art.

Scrambling on buckled knees to reach my camera, "Lay still, you look fucking holy like this", She didn't protest, all fucked out and sleepy. Clicking twice I got what I needed.

Her hues twinkled and I knew she craved more, reaching for my phone I dialled never breaking eye contact as she sat up, "Kelly, cancel the rest of my appointments and call the car round for me. Thanks love" 

"Are you going somewhere Draco?"

"Yes, and you're coming with me. My muse"

[fyodorslave]

Hello! I hope you're doing fine rn. Well I'm not sure if you're a bsd manga reader but if you are, may I request Ranpo,Atsushi,Kunikida and Tecchou with s/o who has heterochromia? (You can change tecchou to tachihara if you're not a manga reader!) Have a nice day and stay safe! <3

BSD characters with a S/O who has heterochromia

tecchou my beloved ♡ (I added tachihara because it's kinda short, so to compensate for that I added another character)

ranpo, atsushi, tecchou, kunikida, tachihara

Atsushi has segmental heterochomia himself which he was quite insecure about until he met you.

Would come to terms with himself and start loving his own heterochromia because of how good it looks on you.

Trend setter or whatever.

Since you helped with his insecurity, he will become your own hype-man if he ever sees you self conscious about your eyes.

He didn't even know he had a thing for those with heterochromia till he met you, will think those with the same coloured eyes are boring (not in a discriminating way, he's too kind for that but ya know what I mean)

Why do I feel like he'd bring it up in a fight with akutagawa. "Yeah? Well imagine being so boring, me and Y/N have cool eyes" They're both so stupid .

If I talk about akutagawa and atsushi again, this will turn into shin soukoku fic.

Will cup your cheeks and stare into your eyes at random times.

If your watching a movie with him, he'd get sidetracked and just space out watching the light reflecting off your irises.

Think's they look 10x more beautiful when they sparkle under the light.

Literally so pure and wholesome.

If you ever get insecure, you can count on him to make your day better.

"Imagine being insecure of looking different. Isn't it better than being bland?"

Regardless of his ideal girl, when he first saw you he was in awe

Thinks the rarity of it is extremely alluring

Your eyes was one of the main things that interested him

doesn't mean that's the only thing he loves about you, he fell in love with you personality, eyes were a lucky bonus

You would often catch him staring at you, zoning out at random moments.

Can and will blame you for being a distraction.

He doesn't want you to think your eyes are the only thing he likes about you, would constantly remind you how much he loves you alone.

If you ever do feel insecure about them, he will always be there to reassure how beautiful they are

Gives you eyelid kisses

"Your eyes are beautiful babe, I wouldn't change a thing about them"

I feel like he’d be super excited when he first saw you, would always point out your eyes and how cool he thinks they are.

If you are insecure about it, he wouldn’t make such a big deal, discreetly shows you he loves them and likes how unique they are.

Your eyes remind him of the candy he eats, would constantly compare the two

If you ever get insecure I feel like he’d get annoyed at first because he doesn't understand how one could hate your eyes.

That being said, he would end up kissing your forehead, telling you how perfect he thinks they are.

"he doesn't understand how one could hate your eyes." if he EVER overhears anyone making unkind remarks about you, he will become weirdly protective and wouldn't hesitate to intervene.

I do see Ranpo as a protective kind so rest assured he will never let anyone hurt you, mentally or otherwise.

If he's not talking about himself he's talking about you and without fail, your eyes.

Regardless of how much he brings it up- it doesn't seem forced at all, everything he says he genuinely means.

On the whole, he absolutely adore your eyes, thinks normal is boring anyway. At times he wishes he had them as well, has never envied anyone so you may as well be the first.

Now we all know he loves similar-coloured things.

So he never thought heterochromia would be something he’d prefer.

well that’s until he met you, like kunikida, thinks your eyes are mysterious and easy to get lost it.

Would compliment you all the time to reassure you that his preference of similar coloured things do not apply to you at all and that you should never feel insecure because of it.

Honestly, he just think they're perfect.

Would glare at anyone who makes you feel otherwise.

his favourite place to kiss -besides your lips- would be right underneath eyes.

Referring back to how he thinks your eyes are easy to get lost in- we know how he can stare at things for hours (like the time he spent 8 hours watching ants)

He can and will empty his mind to stare at you- no thoughts, just your eyes.

All in all, he adores them, will not give you a chance to feel insecure- he's always ready to give you compliments.

When he first met you, you were wearing glasses to cover up your eyes. (giving me gojo)

You didn't consider it an attractive feature, so you were sure as hell not going to let anyone see it.

That was until Tachihara accidentally happened to see them.

I imagine it being during a mission, you get hit in the face and your glasses get knocked off in the process.

Tachihara who happens to see your eyes and is dumbfounded.

Literally stops fighting for a few seconds just to stare in amazement.

When you act like nothing happened -post combat- he will definitely bring it up and bug you for not telling him sooner.

If you mention it's not one of your best traits, rest assured he will throw hundreds of compliments your way whenever he sees you.

Like Atsushi, I totally see him as a hype-man. He genuinely loves your eyes and isn't afraid to tell you.

While dating him, you don't wear your sunglasses around him, he finds it special but wishes you were able to see how much he- and most likely other- love it

Definitely convinces you to not wear them so often, if he senses you getting insecure he'd grab you hand while soothingly reassuring you.

Would make it his own personal mission to get you to love your insecurity just as much as he does (and me!).

💌 message to the requester💌 right UM idk why tachihara's was longer than the rest, he wasn't even supposed to be in it LMAO. Also sorry that it's so short, I literally didn't know what else to write. ANYWAY I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for requesting ♡ !

[nev3rfound]

blame it on the neighbours : b.b

having recently moved in next door, you and bucky become fast friends. however, there's something looming between the two of you and it comes to light when it's revealed you're in the hospital. (1.7k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: yes! by the very sweet @didsomeonesaybucky warnings: bucky freaking out if that counts? descriptions of hospitals

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

Ever since you moved in and became Bucky's next-door neighbour, he could tell things were going to be different. In the first instance, he could hear you in the corridor, chatting away happily to your other neighbours, offering baked goods. He watched cautiously through the peephole, still having to yet meet you, he merely observed from afar.

When he finally met you, it wasn't the interaction he quite hoped for.

Standing in front of his door with a tray of cookies in hand, you release a shaky breath having heard from your other neighbours that the occupant in apartment 4F wasn't the friendliest. But you would simply have to judge that for yourself, you told them.

"He's a bit of a strange one, dear." Your neighbour, Clarissa in 2F warned you as she accepted the container of muffins you had made that morning. "Doesn't really leave or go out much, I think I've only ever heard him say morning once in the six months he's been here!" Her words echo in the back of your mind as you lift your hand up, knuckles lightly tapping the door.

With wide eyes, Bucky hesitantly walks toward the door and stares straight through the peephole. His breath halters, watching as you stare down at your feet.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky glides his fingers over the several locks across his door and slides through the small gap in the doorway with an attempted smile gracing his lips.

"Hi," You start, now lifting your eyes up toward this mysterious neighbour who is definitely not what you anticipated. "I, I'm Y/n, I moved in next door a week ago," Motioning to your apartment, Bucky forces his eyes to glance across down the hall before averting them back to you, taking in your features up close as you rub your lips together.

"Yeah, I heard you moving in." Bucky comments, internally cringing at his choice of wording. "I mean, I," His words falter at the sound of you chuckling softly to yourself. "can I start again? Is that alright?" He asks, grateful that you nod. "It's nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm James."

"Well, it's lovely to know my other neighbour, James. I, these are for you." Thrusting the tray forward, Bucky pushes his door open further with his foot to accept the tray, forgetting he didn't have his glove on.

Your eyes wander down to see his left arm is entirely metal. "Thanks." He mutters, feeling your eyes burning into his arm.

"I'm sorry," You quickly say, looking up at his face. "it's rude to stare, my Mom would scold me if she were here right now."

Bucky shakes his head, moving his leg to catch the back of the door. "Don't worry 'bout it." He brushes it off, but he notices your eyes wandering around the bland corridor and your lips parting.

"You don't happen to know any good places for dinner 'round here?" You move the conversation on, causing Bucky to raise a brow in response. "I'm kinda new to the area and I was wondering if you knew any good spots." You shrug your shoulders, hoping he couldn't read your mind and know that sentence was a complete lie.

"Erm, yeah." He sheepishly tells you, hearing Doctor Raynor droning in the back of his mind about putting himself out there, and not on those godforsaken dating apps again. "There's a great sushi place I know of."

Your smile brightens at his suggestion, and Bucky can't ignore how his lips rise at the sight. "Great, wanna join me then since you know it so well?" You suggest nonchalantly. "And you can always enjoy those as a dessert afterwards."

Looking down at the tray of warm cookies, Bucky tries to hide the sound of his stomach grumbling against the tray.

"Sure," He reaches into his apartment, grabbing his things including his gloves before following you out. "so, what brings you to Brooklyn?"

*

It's been several months since you moved in next door, and Bucky couldn't be happier that you plucked up the courage to knock that day.

Every week you two hang out, sometimes you join him and Yori for lunch who spends most of the time trying to convince Bucky to ask you out (only to be scolded when you're absent.) Sometimes you'll cook dinner, dance around your apartment and watch movies or wander around the city whilst Bucky tells you old stories; just like normal friends do, right?

It was truly blissful, but there was still so much about each other you had yet to learn.

Running his fingers through his combed hair, Bucky tugs on his blue henley before heading out.

As he locks his front door, he carries out dinner that he promised to make for you tonight.

"Oh, James." Your neighbour in 2F, Clarissa, stands in front of her door with her handbag and walking stick.

"Hi, Clarissa." Bucky forces a small smile, having heard her conversations regarding his past, muttering about having a murderer in the building shouldn't be allowed.

"Heading into Y/n's I take it." She hums, eyeing him carefully as he nods in response. "She should be back later, told me she had to go to the hospital." Waving herself off, Clarissa turns the lock in her doors.

"The hospital?" Bucky speaks up as the containers in his hands begin to slip, his mind going a hundred miles an hour. "Y/n's in the hospital?" Trying not to yell, Bucky steps closer, causing Clarissa to clutch her handbag tightly in front of her chest.

"Yes," Clarissa states calmly, but Bucky notices the keys in her right hand begin to shake.

"Thanks." Bucky mutters, stepping away as he darts back into his own apartment and grabs his coat, barely able to process his thoughts before rushing down the stairwell with nothing but you on his mind.

Reaching the entrance to the hospital, Bucky hands the driver some money without any words being exchanged. Bucky knew he looked like hell; he couldn't focus properly on anything. He had only seen you last night, the two of you in his apartment painting his living room walls, laughing together as you accidentally flicked paint across his cheek.

The reception area was crowded, voices bounced from wall to wall as Bucky strode toward the desk where a woman sat, staring blankly at a screen.

"How can I help?" She asks, briefly glancing up at Bucky before focusing on her screen once more.

Suddenly lost for words, Bucky homes in on a man crying in the waiting area, loudly sobbing into his hands as a nurse stands over him.

"Y/n Y/l/n, I'm looking for Y/n." Bucky forces the words out as the Nurse simply nods whilst typing away, humming a tune to herself.

"Oh okay," The Nurse pauses as her eyes scan over the monitor.

Clutching the edge of the desk, Bucky can hear the plates in his metal arm whirring as his grip tightens, nearly tearing the panel off as the silence becomes insufferable.

"So Y/n is currently in the operating theatre." The nurse tells Bucky nonchalantly, glancing up to see something change in his expression.

"No," Shaking his head, Bucky steps back. "she, I, I we were going to have dinner." It sounds pathetic to him, saying it aloud. But seeing you, having any moment with you made him feel human again, almost normal.

"Yeah, crazy how schedules fall." A heavy sigh leaves the nurses lips, unaware of the cool gaze that is locking in on her.

"Do you know when she'll be-" Before Bucky can finish his sentence, he's caught off guard by someone calling his name from the corridor.

"James?" You chuckle, walking toward him wearing your uniform adorned with your badge.

"Doll?" Bucky stutters, stepping closer as he tries to stop the tears in his eyes from forming. "You, you're okay?" He mumbles, looking you over, keeping his hands on your arms.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You ask, evidently surprised. "Everything okay, James?" Lowering your voice, you peer down to look him in the eyes whilst his head hangs low.

"Clarissa said you were in the hospital." Bucky huffs in annoyance to himself. "I, I didn't put it together," He mumbles. "I forgot that you,"

"That I'm a Doctor?" Holding back the laugh in your throat, you sigh before tugging Bucky closer into your embrace. "I'm okay, James. I'm only sorry you came all this way."

Keeping you in his arms, Bucky doesn't want to let go. Whilst your face rests in the crook of his neck, he allows a few stray tears to fall in relief. "I, I made us dinner." He eventually says, feeling you pull back to look at him, your eyes softening at the trails left on his cheeks.

"Oh, James." Raising your hand, you cup his cheek. "I'll be off work in an hour. I'm so sorry I should've said something or let you know sooner."

Shaking his head, Bucky takes your hand from his cheek and runs his fingers over your knuckles. "Don't worry 'bout it, Y/n. I'm just glad you're safe." He tells you, wishing he could say something else, but for now, that was enough.

"Did you make,- Your eyes light up in excitement, but Bucky cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.

"Yep." Bucky chuckles as you do a little dance. "You're such a dork sometimes, doll."

"Yeah," You admit, slipping your hand from his as you bury them in your pockets. "but would you have me any other way, neighbour?" Raising a brow to him, Bucky shakes his head. "Thought as much."

"I'll keep dinner warm for you." He smiles, hearing the word neighbour circle his thoughts. Yet, for once, Bucky forces his intrusive thoughts aside as his lips brush across your forehead. "Be good, Doc." He can't help but laugh to himself at the sound of your heart beating rapidly whilst externally, you remain cool.

"I'll try my best, Barnes." You salute him, watching as he walks back out of the hospital, knowing he's one step closer to calling you his girl.

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)

@bissstuff @psychicforest@lourightm@mywinterwolf@justsomedreaming @stanlux17 @smokeandnailz @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx@courtneychicken@marvelsangels@supraveng@tommy-lee-81@smilexcaptainx@fandom-princess-forevermore@sarge-barnes-sir@pleasantlysecretdream @decaffeinated-fangirl @howdyherron @kirby-boo @florencxs@eldahae @handmesomecoffee @hi-my-name-is-riley @dev1lbella @thanossexual @alissaginger @sambucky8@notbrooklynsblog @nikkixostan @cosmiccaptian @adoreyou976@sarcasticallywitty15 @multi-fandom-princess07 @16boyfriends-and-me @courtneychicken @mackevanstan80 @torchwoodoctor @pleasantlysecretdream @yougottalovefandoms @magicalxdaydream@soccer-100000 @tenaciousperfectionunkown @talksoprettyjjx @btsonthedaily @jessyballet @katiaw2 @buckyswildflower@lucrea @weenersoldierr @katiaw2 @lucrea @amelia-song-pond @bluelakeee @dottirose @emilytheukuleleplayer @5-seconds-of-mendes @rudystilins  @bookfrog242@wild-rose-35@fleurlovesbucky@iiclarixa @soldierstucky@twinerd14@lieswithoutfairytales@ateliefloresdaprimavera@teenwonder@weenersoldierr@nobody-will @ilikemypolarbear @rottenstyx @original-in-itself @sebby-staan @bbl32 @lyoongx @iilwjbb @siriuslyslytherin @chazubagi @youngmarveltastypersona

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. I just find it gross how Persephone never got the choice to tell anyone (besides "Chiron") about her assault? Eros prodded it out of her, Hera "touched" her and figured it out (then forced Hephaestus to SEE the actual act), Psyche found out and was about to tell everyone else until happenstance stopped it, and Hades, the man who is praised for "respecting her boundaries", went against those boundaries to spy on her then forced her to tell him. Even that choice was ripped away from her.

2. Rachel could have ripped off Mamma Mia down to the plot and ABBA musical numbers and it'd still be more accurate to mythology than whatever she's doing instead. Hell, it'd force her to actually set it in Greece instead of /ITALY/. The supposed GREEK myth expert over here!

3. What's gross about the Eris thing is what is it saying exactly? It's a "curse" to have less than pleasant emotions? All that's telling RS' audience of young girls is that they what, can't have normal emotions and have to be "perfect" all the time? IDK, it sees awfully easy for Persephone to be "kind" when she never faces any actual consequences for her actions and has everything provided for her that the 99% of us will never get. It's such a privilege worldview to sell as "feminist"/"empowering"

4. Something I feel like RS fell flat one was when hades said Aphrodite had half Olympus around her finger. Hera doesn’t like her, hades hasn’t helped her, Ares is ready to leave her for Persephone, I haven’t seen anyone other than Eros help her. She slept with Zeus to get her son out of trouble, but I haven’t seen anyone actually treat the goddess as she is. 

5. is that supposed to be a meta comment by rachel about how people critique persephone being "boring" because of her lack of dark traits? bc people love a good, sweet character, the LO issue with persephone is rachel kept insisting she's this ~complex~ goddess only to blame eris for persephone's one negative trait because she didnt actually want a complex character, she wants persephone to be her bland self inert who gets horny induced rages for the ~aesthetic~ but is perfect the rest of the time.

6. the fact persephone's entire personality and goals is just the doing of others is like .. such a weird self own. rachel somehow took a goddess with admittedly lacking characterization in mythology and made her so devoid of anything to her she had to write in a gaggle of goddesses trying to scrap together a a flimsy excuse of a personality for her to even try and make sense of the lack of development she's given her. how is that even possible to unwrite a character like this and publish it??

7. where's that gif from twilight where the blonde lady threw a baby into the fire because that's what I want to do to baby persephone 💀 apologize to the roses that were wasted to make that thing 💀

8. Why does baby Persephone look like a mandrake from Harry Potter lmao. does Rachel know those thinks are ugly and can kill you.

9. It's kinda funny Hades' expressions when he saw Persephone in the party because when he asked who was she he looked like he's about to sneeze and then he looks like he's getting a heart attack instead of falling in love at first sight or whatevs

10. I stopped reading LO a while ago because of the characterization of Thanatos, who's always been my favorite Greek deity to learn about (ignoring the fact that webtoon got boring for me in general).  Throughout the (minimal) myths he's in, he's shown as fair and kind, but also not very emotional (seeing as he's, well, death & being emotional would interfere with being neutral).  Idk if this makes any sense I just always get really attached to death deities so lo thanatos makes me sad :(

[sukirichi]

illusion

— does one dare wake up from the illusion of love?

meal order: 🥞🍷 + 20, 58 (assassin! reader, oblivious! noritoshi) + 13 (thigh riding) + love at first sight + “wait, are you flirting with me?” + “have been since the beginning, thanks for finally noticing.” 

warnings: attempted murder, sexual content, character death, angst, dark themes of violence, unedited fic 

note: thank you for the request! it was really challenging to write this but i’m all up for trying new things!

word count: 4k+

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re slacking.”

You glared at the dark haired man before you who was greedily sucking on a cigarette, the cloudy puffs of smoke breathed into your face. “Shut up, Toji,” you pressed your lips before waving your hand to get rid of the smoke. He was so rude, but because he was stronger and a far more skilled than you were, you wouldn’t dare fight back or complain. He knew this too; a smug smirk painting his dark, handsome features. “I’m just struggling, is all.”

“You, struggling?” his head tipped back in laughter, “Weren’t you so arrogant that you’d do anything for money?”

“And I still will. There’s just a sudden change of circumstances.”

“Such as?” he raised a brow challengingly, huge arms crossed over his equally muscular chest. Leaning over your window like that with the lights dimmed low, Toji looked absolutely threatening. You had no qualms that he’d rip your head off if given the order and enough money to do so, so you had to be careful with your words lest you wanted to die – or worse; he becomes a victim of this merciless man.

You narrowed your eyes, fists bunching up to your ripped black jeans. “A change of mind.”

“It seems like you had a change of heart too,” he noted, and you cursed inwardly. Fuck, of course he’d notice. Before you could come on the defense, Toji pushed himself away from the window with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “But whatever. Good luck, kid. I’ll just hope that you get to kill your target before the bosses kill you first.”

“I’m not going to die. It’s not like I changed or anything.”

“Yeah, not like you’re giggling just down the hall staring at your target’s picture,” he rolled his eyes, snorting to himself. “Because that’s totally normal for us assassins, right?”

“Oh, shut up, Toji. Don’t you have better things to do than annoy me?”

“I’m never missing the opportunity to mess with ya, kid,” you held back a groan when he messed up your hair, your precious untouchable hair. “Oh, and the boss called. He said if we still don’t have the head by tonight, I’m being sent in,” your heart dropped at his words, silence coating the room. Nothing but your frantic heartbeat pulsed at the tip of your tongue as your hands grew sweaty and slippery, but Toji’s next words had you looking up at him with wide eyes. “Go and get your precious lover before I come around, kid. I’m not going to be nice just for you.”

Was it a warning? A threat? A heads-up? Fuck, nothing mattered anymore – you had to finish your mission before it was too late.

The sound of Toji slamming the door behind you finally snapped you from your dazed state. Greeting you was the sight of your dark, lifeless room – empty and gray like how you were. Before you met him. But things were different now; in your mission of bringing death and shedding blood, you came across the person who gave you life and meaning to this…this bland and pathetic excuse of a life.

If you didn’t move sooner, it would be too late.

Teeth gritted, you were quick on your feet as you swiped up your handy blade, bandages wrapping around your fists for protection before you followed Toji out, only this time, the man was already gone.

You needed to move. Now.

Noritoshi stepped inside his room with a soft sigh, eyes closed and pretty, masculine hands loosening his inner shirt. Perhaps it was because his window was still kept shut and not a sound could be heard from his room that he let his guard down, and nothing but a slight hiss fell from his lips when you lunged at him, blade pressed against his neck.

He was unable to move with one of your arms keeping his arms pinned to his own body, the other holding the blade firmly to his delicate skin. A slight trickle of blood dripped down his porcelain skin when you edged it a little harder, the shaky inhale from Noritoshi causing your mind to fall into ruin. But not now – you wouldn’t give in right now. You had a mission to finish; one you had to complete successfully like you always did.

“What are you doing?” He asked calmly, voice soothing and still so gentle even as you breathed hard on his ear. There was no trace of anger or even malice – just the usual doting kindness Noritoshi always gave just for you. You hated it; hated every single about him. “How did you get in here?”

“I need to kill you.”

“You’re still going through with that?” his fingers caressed your thigh, eliciting a soft gasp from you when Noritoshi only leaned closer to your touch, tilting his head so he could peer into your blazing eyes. “I thought we were past this already.”

You laughed at his words before sneering, “This doesn’t change anything. I will kill you somehow, Noritoshi Kamo. And when I’ve got your head in the palm of my hands, I’ll be filthy rich.”

“Then why don’t you get it over with?” he stepped closer to the blade itself, almost pushing you to the edge with his movements. “Come here and see if you’re strong enough.”

You growled threateningly when more blood trailed down and stained his shirt. Instantly, you shoved your blade away from him until it switched to one of his tied side bangs, the hair falling onto the ground with a thump. “Testing me, huh? Are you doubting my skills, Kamo?”

“Not the least bit, no,” he shook his head, refusing to move from your suffocating hold. If anything, he made himself comfortable in your arms, a lopsided smile on his annoyingly handsome features.

You’ve heard rumors that your target was popular among his people and even had countless marriage proposals already; one you didn’t believe until you met the man himself, and as if reminding you of the difficulty of the situation, you just had to be one of those women who nearly fell at his feet. But could anyone blame you? Which sane person would be able to uphold their mission when Noritoshi Kamo leaned close like that, the tip of his nose brushing yours and the warmth of his breath kissing your lips?

“I’ve heard of you – you’ve got quite the reputation,” his dark eyes trailed over your lips that were fallen open, your breathing still hard and ragged. Noritoshi hummed to himself, his tongue darting out to moisten his pink flesh. “Which is why I can’t seem to comprehend why I’m still alive. Could it be there’s something else that you want more than money?”

“Perhaps I do,” you smirked, trying to ignore the way you felt like you were the one being held captive this time. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Choose the intelligent option, of course. I’ll negotiate with you.”

“And if what I want is unattainable?”

His response came as a reflex: “Nothing is unattainable with money.”

“Always the confident one, huh, Kamo?” you scoffed with a ‘tsk’ of your tongue, “One day, I’m going to break this noble leader act of yours. Soon, you’ll fall into this same trap of hell as I have, and maybe then we’ll both be a little crazy,” at your suggestion, Noritoshi only raised a brow, tilting his head to the side as he released a soft sight. You couldn’t read his face and it irked you to no end, a grin masking your irritation as you twirled the blade around your fingers. “What’s wrong, Kamo? Cat got your tongue?”

“Hmm. You really are beautiful, you know that?”

“Huh?” you stepped back as you fell aghast, your jaw dropping while Noritoshi only smiled. Fuck that smile – he had no business being this gorgeous, and you only sneered louder when his skin began to heal. “You out of your mind, Kamo? Are you forgetting who I am?”

“The pretty assassin who’s been out to get me for months now but still hasn’t killed me for whatever odd reason?” Your face burned at the way he nonchalantly said it, but Noritoshi didn’t give you time to recover as he stepped forwards, closer, his hands brushing up against the pads of your cheek. “No, I haven’t forgotten who you are. I could never forget you – not when you’ve been chasing me and we’ve been playing this game of chase for who knows how long.”

“Careful, Kamo. What would your precious elders say if they find out you’re fraternizing with the enemy?” you chuckled at the image of Noritoshi having his ear talked down by those annoying, traditional elders, but the smile fell off your face when Noritoshi continued to stare at you. “Wait, did you just call me pretty? Like, as in, pretty pretty?”

“Yes, and now you’re blushing like crazy,” he booped your nose, firing up the bubbling anger inside you. How dare he mock you like this! Your feet planted on the ground as you prepared to lunge at him when Noritoshi stilled, his strong arms wrapping around your wrist tight enough that even you froze at how strong he was. Had he been holding back on you this whole time? Could he have really easily fought back against you but chose not to for whatever messed up reason?

Before you could get your answer, Noritoshi’s eyes slid over to yours, this time wide with worry. The smile left his face. “You should leave. They’re coming.”

You blinked back up at him helplessly, your body almost turning limp. Seeing that you weren’t moving fast enough, Noritoshi frowned, wrapping your fingers tighter around your blade before pointing to his window where you’d broken in a while ago. “You need to go. Now.”

“C-Can I see you again tonight?” you found yourself asking, legs already perched on the windowsill. You knew it was pathetic, to have trembling pouty lips when you were seconds away from making a deadly fall and yet you were more worried about him. The thought of Toji coming the moment he heard you still hadn’t killed Noritoshi made your hands and legs shake, heart clenching painfully with fear. Noritoshi may be strong, but he was nothing against Toji. “I want to see you again,” and again and again and again – for as long as you were allowed.

Though you’d never tell him that.

Not that you needed to, though, because Noritoshi could read you better than yourself, and he only smiled, never making fun of how vulnerable and horrible you were at keeping your feelings a secret. You were too easy to read sometimes, or maybe he just had a skill of knowing everything that ran in your mind.

“Would it stop you if I said no?”

“Of course not,” you frowned, then looked out the setting sun that held an ominous vibe to it now. Eyes closed and a sad heart begging to be closer to him, you buried it all deep within, turning to Noritoshi with an aching smile. “Live your life to the fullest, Kamo. This might just be your last day.”

Noritoshi chuckled softly to himself. “I’ll keep the windows open, then.”

It was way past midnight, and neither you nor Toji came around. He’d already heard that someone else was sent for him due to his precious little lover falling in love with him at first sight that caused her to fail her mission, and Noritoshi paced around his room, arms folded on his chest as he thought of the different ways they could’ve executed you already.

He hadn’t known you for a long enough time to know everything about you. It didn’t help that you weren’t the most open either, refusing to tell him more about your life and the people you worked for whenever he asked.

Noritoshi understood your discomfort when it came to sensitive topics like that.

It wasn’t easy, after all, to talk about the countless people whose lives you’d taken for money prior to meeting him. Noritoshi was well-aware he was another name on your hit list that could be crossed out had it been under different circumstances; circumstances such as him easily defeating you on the first day you met him before he had you pinned to the ground, both your bodies panting heavily.

One thing led to another, and Noritoshi grew an obsession with you.

It was fucked up, to say the least – that he actually looked forward to having you jump on him out of nowhere, bringing different weapons and techniques for various ways to kill him this time.

There was one time you both went out on a date, glasses covering your eyes and hats pulled over so no one would recognize any of you walking into the dark movie theatre. None of you could pay attention to the movie when you placed yourself in his lap, and suddenly he felt so thankful he bought the whole theatre for himself because he sure as hell couldn’t keep his voice down while you rode his dick like he was just a mere plaything.

Your hands then travelled around his neck as you pulled him in for a searing kiss. Second by second, his vision grew faint with his head dizzy, the air being knocked out of him as you crushed his windpipe with increasing pressure.

He wasn’t surprised that you would try to kill him while cumming around his cock – you were the most painful pleasure that could kill him, literally – and he had to push you off so hard your head hit the ground until you were knocked out.

Noritoshi had lost count of the times you tried to kill him, purely because you always tried to seduce him one way or another.

He believed it was one of your strategies into luring your prey right into your trap, which he fell for every single time. The rational part of himself (which wasn’t that much when it came to you to begin with) told him to increase his security, to always be prepared and have some sort of weapon or blood readied out to defend himself, but him being him, he always kept the window unlocked.

Noritoshi was reminded of his mistakes when his back was harshly kicked, his arm painfully bent and pressed to his lower back while your knee planted itself onto his spine, your sweet laughter bouncing from his ears. “Wasn’t expecting me, Kamo?” you teased, twisting his arm hard enough that he winced at the pain. “I thought you’d be ready.”

“I’m never ready for you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Even in his slightly limped state, Noritoshi managed a smile. “Why? Does it make you want to kill me less?”

“Oh, you’re vermin, Kamo. My blood boils every time I see you!”

Perhaps you weren’t any better than him. You let your guard down too easily when it came to your emotions flaring up, and before you knew it, Noritoshi had pushed himself off the ground and flipped you under him, knee planted between your legs and your arms pinned to your side.

Your blade fell with a pathetic clang on the floor.

You struggled against his hold despite the comfort of having him above you like this, his gorgeous muscles displayed through his poor excuse of a shirt. Noritoshi only slammed your arms harder on the ground to keep you immobile, his words gentle and too sweet in comparison to his roughness.

He leaned closer, eyes filled with adoration and lust staring down at you. You thought he would kiss you when his lips suddenly turned the other way, his tongue prodding on the lobe of your ear that had you gasping underneath him.

The sound of your breathy whines had his blood shooting straight up onto his cock, pressing his now hardening erection against your heated core that he’d had the privilege of fucking and eating countless of times before – though he’d never get tired of it; he would never get tired of you.

“Then why do you keep coming back?”

“What else, idiot?”

Your irritated response had him pulling him back, his brows furrowed as he loosened his hold on you. Just like that, Noritoshi let go of you, his back hitting his bed frame as he frowned, pointing to himself in disbelief. “Wait, are you flirting me?”

That earned him a roll of your eyes in response. You pushed yourself up from the floor and glared at him, massaging the bruises that would form into your skin soon. “Have been since the beginning, thanks for finally noticing.”

“I thought getting me to bed was one of your ways to kill me,” he scratched his head, and he really shouldn’t be looking that cute. “I don’t know whether to be afraid or flattered—”

Noritoshi wouldn’t stop rambling on and on about how this whole time, he had no idea you liked him back and he’d endlessly chastised himself for falling for an assassin. Quite frankly, you had too much of his endless babbling that you pushed him until he fell on the bed, not wasting any time before you planted yourself on his lap and sitting on it like a throne.

“Shut up and kiss me, Kamo.”

When you grinded on his erection, Noritoshi lost it. He no longer had control of himself before he kissed you madly, his hands bunching your shirt up and helping you fling it to the side. Pupils blown wide as if he’d never seen you bare before, Noritoshi pushed the cups of your bra above your breasts, his lips latching onto a perky nipple while his other hand tweaked it between his fingers.

Your head fell back in pleasure as you let him ravage you, soft little gasps leaving your lips while you rode his thigh.

Noritoshi groaned into your breasts at the sight of you eagerly fucking yourself on his thigh, moaning louder when he clenched and you bounced you above his muscle.

“If I’d known you’d look this beautiful riding me like this,” his mouth left your lips before he settled onto your neck instead, nipping and tugging at the skin until he was sure he’d have you marked black and blue. “I would’ve opened my windows long ago,” he cupped your breasts, his cock twitching in his pants as you rubbed your clit all over his pants, mewling when one of his fingers rubbed at your clothed folds. “Do you think it’s fate?”

You laughed through the drunken state of pleasure, “You’re asking me if it’s fate that I’m sent to kill you but I’m fucking you here instead?”

“That’s one way to word it.”

“I don’t know, I don’t care,” your head fell on his shoulders as you clenched around nothing. Noritoshi took it upon himself to tug your panties to the side, his cock only hardening further because you wore a skirt for him tonight, almost as if you were expecting to be fucked senseless by his dick.

Well, if that was your wish, then who was he to deny you?

The feeling of you sliding down his length had you both moaning and groaning, the stretch of him feeling you up to the brim too magnificent to describe. Noritoshi pulled you closer until your tits were right at his face, free for him to kiss and worship. You whimpered when Noritoshi’s large hands cupped your ass to bring you upwards, your moan shattered and shaky as he let gravity drop you down his thick length, the pattern of you bouncing onto him sending heat all over your body.

“One thing’s for sure,” you managed through gritted teeth, “It’s definitely an unfortunate curse that I can’t kill you because I’m so in love with you.”

Noritoshi stopped with his movements, letting you rest at the base of his cock instead while you caught your breaths. Your eyes were closed, fingers clenching tight at the material of his shirt. Noritoshi didn’t need for you to tell him more to understand that you were risking a lot more than he was for falling with one another, because you’ve failed your mission, and a failed mission always guaranteed a most painful death.

“Hey,” Noritoshi tapped your cheek, “Hey, look at me,” he grabbed your chin to force you to look at him, and his gaze softened when tears shone into those pretty eyes of yours. You’ve never let him see you cry before, but you couldn’t help it, teeth sinking into your lip to stop the tears from flowing while Noritoshi’s strong arms wrapped around you comfortingly. “I’ll protect you, okay?”

“You say that as if I can’t look after myself.”

“I know you can. You did just nearly break my arm, so I’m not worried,” you both laughed, and he smiled wider upon seeing that you’ve livened up a little bit. That was all he wanted to see – to see you smile. “But I mean it. I’ll protect you – take care of you. You can abandon your old life and just live with me.”

“But I’m a regular, boring human. You’re about to be head of the Kamo Clan – what could I possibly offer?”

“Everything and nothing, but know that I’m not asking or expecting anything from you,” his thumbs were gentle as he cupped your cheek, “Just stay here. With me. We’ll work it out.”

You fell silent, unable to process the gravity of his words. The more you thought about it, the more it enticed you. No more killing, no more crying yourself to sleep or trying to hold back a scream as you washed the blood off your body, no more images of the people you’ve killed haunting you everywhere you went. Instead, you could live a happy life with Noritoshi. He was powerful and influential – he could easily give you a life.

But it wouldn’t be a life if you failed your mission.

You knew that much – no one escaped from the higher-ups and no one got out unless they were killed, either during their mission or by defecting. Not even Noritoshi could protect you from that, but he gazed up at you so hopefully, so lovingly that you wanted to bask in this glow and illusion of happiness a little longer.

So you smiled, rubbing your nose against his that had you both giggling like lovesick teens. “You’re so cheesy it’s disgusting, Kamo. I really regret not killing you now.”

“You wound me,” he placed a hand over his chest before pinching his cheeks, “But I suppose it’s only fair – you quite kill me with your cuteness too.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

For now, while you could still have him the way you wanted him, while he was still safe, you allowed yourself to drown in pleasure. Limbs tangled with one another and names breathily spoken while he marked you as his own, his seed painting your womb that you eventually lost count of.

This was love – the illusion of it, at least.

You stared at Noritoshi as he slept soundly beside you, his hair splattered everywhere. He was too exhausted to notice you slowly slipping off the bed, wiping the mixture of both your cum away with a towel before tugging your clothes back on. Glancing one last time at his still sleeping form, you lifted up a tile just under his study, pulling out the heavy and deadly weapons you’d planted long ago just in case.

Your heart dropped in your chest when the door suddenly opened. No creaking sound indicated that it did, but the slight gush of wind entering the room made the hairs on your arm prickle up.

On instinct, you wrapped a hand around your special gun and aimed it at the person smirking down at you. His eyes travelled from Noritoshi safely tucked under the blankets to your defensive pose just before him, the safety of the gun flipped open. This time, your hands no longer shook, and your eyes were hard and determined as you matched the dark look on his face.

“Step away, kid. You don’t want things to get messy.”

“I won’t let you hurt him, Toji,” Toji was surprised when you suddenly dropped your gun on the bed, palms raised beside your head in surrender. “I, Y/N, member of the Dark Shadows organization therefore surrender my title and submits to the punishment I must receive. As a last wish from a lifelong loyal member of your organization, I humbly ask that you respect my wish to keep Noritoshi Kamo safe from your missions. Forever.”

You could never live a happy life with Noritoshi, but there was still a way you could keep him safe; one that came with the price of your death.

The Dark Shadows was a shady organization with nameless and faceless leaders, the members like you and Toji blindly following orders from a “messenger.” You were born into this organization with a random name given to you as an assassin title. You always hated it, but you also didn’t know what life without being an assassin was like, so you followed them until the end. It just never occurred to you that you would use your last wish this way, for everyone always had a dying wish that the organization had to follow.

Toji’s eyes darkened; clearly, he believed you were doing a mistake. But the more you thought of Noritoshi’s smile, his laughter, his future – it was all worth it.

“I, Fushiguro Toji, a witness of your death, hereby respect your last wish.”

The sound of desperate crying – the first time you’ve cried ever since you were born – stirred Noritoshi awake from his slumber, but before he could catch your falling body, a gunshot had already fired in the air.

[dccomicsimagines]

My Business - Clark Kent x Reader

Requested by Anon -  A superman x reader imagine with the prompt: "I found your nose! It was in my business."

Requested by warblinglion0  - Hi! Could I request a Clark Kent imagine please??

***

Clark closed his eyes against the blowing snow. He flew over the city, using his super hearing to guide him. The city was quieter than normal. The snowstorm had shut almost everything down. 

He sighed, swooping down to help a woman carry home groceries. “Thank you, Superman,” she shouted once she was at her building. Clark waved at her and took off into the sky again. 

Most of his day was spent helping stranded people with the storm. He had already written his article about the impact of the storm on Metropolis’ sewer system. Perry could forgive boring content when the storm created a slow news day. Clark snorted. He bet Lois found some kind of amazing story in this weather. 

He landed on the top of the Daily Planet. The cold air felt sharp in his lungs. It reminded him of winters at home. He looked out at the snow covered city, thinking of turning in. A cup of hot chocolate while watching that documentary he felt would give him an edge in a story he was researching. He felt warm already. 

“Get lost, jerk.” Your voice hit his ears. Clark’s eyes widened in surprise. It was like he was subconsciously listening for you sometimes. Your voice always came to him in the moments he never suspected. 

He floated into the air, searching for you. You sounded too close to be at your apartment across town. 

“Stupid, country bum,” a man’s voice echoed near you. Clark heard a door slam. He flew faster before slowing when he found you trudging through the snow in the street. His stomach dropped at how underdressed you were. You didn’t even have a coat on.

He almost flew down to you, but he stopped himself. People couldn’t see Superman around you. Too risky. He quickly flew to his apartment only a block away. Changing into regular clothes, he made sure to pick up an extra coat for you before zooming back to you. 

***

You wrapped your arms around yourself and cursed your situation. Why didn’t you bring a coat? Why did you decide to go the the club during a snowstorm? You shook your head, feeling the snow settled on your head. Everything was shut down. You shivered, crossing the street to make the long walk home. 

“(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?” Clark’s voice made you jump. You spun around, seeing him run over to you. Ironically, he was dressed for the weather. Funny since he couldn’t feel the cold. “Where’s your coat?” He had an extra coat over his arm, which he quickly wrapped around you. You slipped your arms in the sleeves, noting how warm it was. 

A shaky laugh escaped you. “I found your nose. It’s in my business...again.” You tapped his nose before struggling to zip up the coat. Your fingers were already numb, burning from the cold. Clark shook his head, smiling as he zipped it for you. 

“Come on. It’s too far for you to go home now. My place is nearby.” He wrapped a strong arm around you and led you home. “Now why are you out in this weather?”

He was so warm and his big frame blocked the wind. “Well, I got invited to a club by some friends of Lucy’s.” You bit your lip. “I thought I’d go, but then one of the guys started making fun of me when I didn’t know what...” You stopped yourself from spilling the embarrassing conversation. “Never mind.” 

“You’re always getting in trouble.” Clark unlocked his building’s front door and held it open for you. You hurried inside, stomping your feet to knock off the snow. Shivers rocked your body, you could have swore ice was forming on your body. 

“And you’re always popping up to help.” You rolled your eyes. “I never would have thought my good old brother, Pete, would ask you to keep an eye on me so much. Do you two even talk that much anymore?” 

“We do.” Clark bit his lip. Pete Ross didn’t call him that much, but they always caught up when Clark went home for a visit. It was actually during one of those visits that Pete asked Clark to keep an eye on his younger sibling who got it into their head to move to Metropolis. Pete thought you were in over your head, and honestly, most of the time you were. 

You pulled Clark’s jacket closer as you both headed to the elevator. “I mean there was that time where I was in that bad roommate situation, so you helped me move. Then I wanted to rent that one place for really cheap and you stepped in to show me how bad it was. Of course, then you came in with that offer to live with Lucy Lane in a nicer part of town.” 

Clark blushed slightly. “Well, it’s the least I could do. I mean you’re practically family, (Y/N).” 

Your stomach soured slightly. You were afraid he only saw you as Pete’s little tagalong sibling. Who could blame him when you felt so helpless most of the time? “I personally think it’s because you want to make up for breaking up my mud mask business in the fifth grade.” 

He laughed hard, almost doubling over. “You were taking mud from the pond and mixing it with your mother’s perfume. It made three people break out in hives.” 

“I had a warning label on it.” You smiled at his reaction. “And it was five dollars a bottle.” 

Clark shook his head. “Ma actually bought one from you. She didn’t use it though. In fact, I think she still has it sitting in the garage.” 

“Too bad for her. Lana swore by it. Said it cleared up her acne just like that.” You snapped your fingers, chuckling along with him. The elevator doors opened and Clark led the way down the hall to his apartment. 

“In all seriousness though, you shouldn’t have went out with a storm on the way. The city shuts down during snowstorms.” Clark unlocked his apartment door and pushed it open to let you in first. 

“The club was still open.” You wandered inside, flicking on the lights to take in the bland surroundings. The only personal items were a framed newspaper article and three family pictures of the Kents. 

“Stupidly still open, yes.” Clark shut the door and locked it. “I’ll make some hot chocolate. Make yourself comfortable, (Y/N).” He took off his coat and shook it out before pulling off his shoes. You kept the coat on, still warming up. 

Clark went into the kitchen and you trailed behind him. “Were you as helpless as me when you first moved here?” you asked suddenly as you took a seat at the counter. Clark blinked, turning to look at you while he turned on the stove. 

“Yes. I had no idea what I was doing and I had a few tricky situations myself.” He smiled. “I’m glad I can help you not to make the same mistakes I did.” 

You hummed. He turned back to start warming up the milk. “Of course it was easier for you. Being Superman and all.” Clark flinched, looking at you with wide eyes. You laughed at the sight. “I know. I know. We’re not supposed to talk about it. It’s the thing we know, but never speak of.” 

Clark sighed. “I don’t think that made it easier for me.” He cleared his throat, turning back to the stove. “It was hard to hide my powers. To have some much noise around me all the time. Not to mention when I decided to become Superman.” 

You watched him, noting the tension in his shoulders. Part of you wanted to go hug him, but you resisted. You didn’t know how he would react. “I remember the first time we knew for sure that you were something special. It was during winter break one year. You, Pete, and Tommy Johnson were trying to go ice fishing at the lake. I followed you because you wouldn’t let me come and I was being stubborn.”

“You fell through the ice because you walked on the thin part.” Clark hummed, getting out the chocolate mix. 

“No one would have noticed, but you heard me scream.” You crossed your arms. The chill from the freezing water felt like a permanent scar every time you thought back on that day. “I went under the ice and I couldn’t find a way to get out.” 

“I dived in after you.” Clark mixed in the chocolate slowly. You wondered if he was remembering how cold the water was too, even though he didn’t get cold. “I had to break through the ice once I found you. Pete and Tommy ran over to help. I let them pull us out. Tommy couldn’t believe I broke through the ice, but Pete told him it was thin there too.”

“None of us said anything about it, but you did save my life that day.” You took a deep breath, slipping off your chair. Taking off his coat, you were finally warm enough. “We always knew, but never really talked about it. I remember I tried to ask Pete to ask you to lift this big rock for me and he slapped my face.” 

“He slapped you?” Clark spun to you, staring at your cheek like Pete just slapped you right this second. You chuckled and touched your cheek. It had stun a lot. You cried at the time.

“Pete was protecting you. Like I said it’s the thing we all knew, but never talked about.” Your face burned at the concern on his face. “I’m fine, Clark.” 

Clark bit his lip, turning away to grab two mugs out of the cabinet. You snorted when you saw he had a superman mug. “Ma gave this to me. She thought it was funny.” He handed you a filled mug and turned off the stove. 

“It is if you know.” You took a sip, licking your lips. “This is good.”

“Thanks, I learned from the best.” Clark took a sip of his own hot chocolate. “I was going to watch a documentary for work if you want join me? Otherwise, we can just watch regular TV, I’m not picky.” 

You headed into the living room and made yourself comfortable on his couch. “The documentary is fine. I like learning.”

“I bet Mrs. G just rolled over in her grave at that.” Clark laughed. “I remember how you made her so mad that her face turned completely red like she was going to burst into flames.” 

“Good times.” You laughed, relaxing as Clark sat down beside you. Shyly, he grabbed a blanket and covered you and himself with it. You hesitated before cuddling into his side.

Clark paused. You saw a mixed expression of emotions cross his face. “You comfortable?”

“Yep.” You took another sip from your mug. Clark relaxed and turned on the documentary. The two of you snuggled while the snowstorm raged outside.

***

The next morning, Clark was startled to hear eggs frying in the kitchen. He slowly got out of bed and was about to leave his bedroom until he remembered you. Quickly, he pulled on an old Smallville High t-shirt. No reason to scare you with his bare chest. 

You were in the kitchen. Clark stopped in the doorway, his breath taken away. He had forgotten he had given you a shirt of his to wear. You turned when you heard his gasp. “Good morning.” You waved innocently before turning back to the stove. “I hope you don’t mind that I made us breakfast. I figured it was the least I could do since you let me stay here last night.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to send you out into the storm.” Clark sat down at the table. His body threatened to burst into flames. Why did you look so good in his shirt?

“You could have flown me home.” Clark watched you as you made a plate for him. He almost groaned at how domestic it was. Part of him wished you could be here every morning. However, the other part of him knew you were Pete Ross’ sibling. Off limits.

Clark cleared his throat. You set the plate in front of him. “Thank you.” He dug into the food to distract himself from the racing thoughts. 

You laughed and made a plate for yourself. Clark tensed when you sat down right next to him. “So it’s still snowing outside,” you said, picking at your food.

“It is.” Clark glanced out the window at the winter wonderland outside. “I’ll have to insist you stay here.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to insist.” You met his eye, winking at him. “But what are we going to do all day long?”

Clark took a big bite of eggs. His heart fluttered at your wink. “I do have to write an article, but after we could...I don’t know...maybe break out that game we used to play?”

“You still have that? And you have it here?” You gasped, clapping your hands. 

“Ma sent it to me a year ago. Said I might need it.” Clark chuckled. He avoid mentioning that Ma only sent it after she found you out were moving to Metropolis. Come to think of it, Clark wondered if Ma knew something he didn’t. Then again, she always did.

You went into a story about when you all first played the game. Clark listened, remembering it himself. You, Pete, and Clark played the game for the first time in the basement of his house while there was a tornado warning. A warm fuzzy feeling came to his chest. Clark decided then and there that he would call Pete once you went home and ask him for permission to ask you out. 

[stxleslyds]

MY THOUGHTS ON TITANS’ RED HOOD,

BEFORE WATCHING THE LAST EPISODE.

I will start by saying that I haven’t been able to watch the show, these are my thoughts after reading a very well-written and detailed review of the last episode. The review is also written by someone that enjoys the show, this is important because my thoughts don’t align with theirs.

I understand that Titans is known for being garbage, I know their writing is messed up, and I had no hope whatsoever for them to actually write a good Jason Todd/Red Hood story. I would also like to make clear that this post is in no way hate towards the actor playing Jason, this post is just my thoughts on Jason’s characterization.

What I really don’t like is these shows/movies taking the names of loved characters and making an “original character” out of them. Yes, there are different takes of the character and you can build their story differently but I do feel that what they did with Jason is beyond all that. They twisted every concept from his origin and his story, nothing really fits, but someway, somehow, they still managed to push all the wrong narratives when it comes to Robin Jason.

Two of the most horrible narratives that DC has decided to push are “Robin Jason was reckless and a troubled kid that never did what he was told” and “Jason Todd is to blame for his death”.

The show does push the one where Jason is reckless. Jason is consumed by fear, and Bruce Wayne pays attention to that but he doesn’t only do that, he also offers comfort and help, he tries to make Robin Jason go to therapy.

This is huge, they build up the perfect scenario for Jason to not become the Red Hood. But for some reason, they decided to make Jason reckless and too eager to prove that he didn’t need that kind of help. And then they didn’t help Jason’s case because they wrote their Bruce as a caring father that does not want to see his son get hurt or end up dead.

This Bruce Wayne is doing everything that comics Bruce Wayne didn’t. This Bruce cares, so once more, one would think that this Jason wouldn’t become the Red Hood. But, surprise! Jason Todd doesn’t take well the news of him not being able to be Robin anymore.

Here is the thing, if you were Bruce in this situation, would you let this Jason continue to be Robin when he is a danger to himself? I know I wouldn’t.

Here is where Titans’ terrible writing reaches its peak. They have a vulnerable and reckless Jason try to prove that he can still be Robin by working on *something* that can take his fears away. Jason Todd wants to make a drug, let that one sink in.

Jason Todd wants to make something that is basically a drug. Did Titans really erase the fact that Jason’s mother overdosed? Because that’s one of the most important things in Jason’s life and that built up his hate for drugs and what they do to people. His mother was in an abusive relationship and that led her to do drugs and later led her to her own death.

This might not sound too important to other people but to me, it’s something that has always been important to Jason’s character before and after his death.

Going back to the actual show, Jason goes to Scarecrow, willingly, and asks him to make him a drug that will make him don’t feel fear. I know that this Jason is vulnerable and that he probably thinks that therapy isn’t working for him, but why on earth would Jason think that making Scarecrow make a drug for him would be a good idea?

How does that make sense? The show is basically telling us that Jason had a support system and that he was going to therapy because Bruce wouldn’t want to lose his SON. Why does this show go far and beyond to make Jason look reckless and dumb?

This is not me comparing Comics Jason to Titans Jason anymore, this is me finding Titans’ logic unnecessarily stupid, they really went out of their way to write pure stupidity.

Why would they write Bruce as a caring father and as actively working so Jason can be in a better mental state so he won’t lose him as his son if they are also going to write Jason as an incredibly reckless man? Are we supposed to be on Bruce’s side? Because as of now, Bruce is the only one with brain cells.

There is absolutely no way to compare that to comics because in comics Bruce neglected Jason’s needs and refused to see that Jason had different morals even back then, and that neglect was key in Jason jumping onto the idea that he needed someone that he could call family and actually care for him. He wanted love and attention from a parental figure because he didn’t feel like he had one. Robin wasn’t everything that Jason was, he was also a kid with normal needs.

So, you build that completely different and actually give Jason the support that he also wanted in the show but for some reason, he is fiercely attached to Robin even though his fear comes from the fact that he almost died for being Robin. There is no logic to this Jason’s actions and that isn’t on Jason it's on the writers’ incredibly garbage writing. It is like they come up with ten different ideas and they put all of them but none of them are actually solid and well-developed concepts.

And you can’t tell me to get over it because “Titans has always had bad writing, there were two seasons of bad writing”. Listen, if you are happy to consume media that is badly written then that’s on you, Jason is one of my favorite characters, I don’t want him to be written badly just because that’s the show’s style. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with me wanting writers to actually care about the characters they are writing for, all three seasons have had different writers, is it really so far-fetched for me to want one of these people to write something that makes sense?

Jason's death was tragic in both comics and the show, and he was a victim in both of them, yes. But the show really pushes the limits of that, Jason wanted to take something to make him not fear, he looked for Scarecrow (not Dr. Jonathan Crane, Scarecrow, and he was an already established villain) to make him this drug when he couldn’t make it himself. He trusted Scarecrow (for some weird reason) and then as a test he went to fight Joker? It’s tragic because it ended with Jason dying but it's also tragic because the writing is just bad. It just is, and that is a problem for me.

From then on, we have the “big connection” to comics, the Lazarus Pit! Wow, you guys did it, yeah, everyone loves the Lazarus Pit, every time I think about Jason, I only think about that one time in which he was thrown in a Lazarus Pit to recover his mental injuries or all of his injuries after he came back from the dead.

This Jason has no training, there is no Talia, no League of Assassins, no Ducra or All-Castle, there is only Scarecrow and his new puppet, the Red Hood.

It changes everything and I don’t like it. Once again, I understand and know the concept of the multiverse, the various earths, and the Elseworlds, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like this take on Jason Todd/Red Hood along with its horrendous writing.

I don’t have to like it, just like I understand that others do like it because it is their first contact with the character or because they are fine, as fans of the character, with a new take. I am not gatekeeping Jason Todd or Red Hood; I am just saying that my being angry at this version and absolutely hating it is just as valid as liking this version of Jason.

Red Hood in Titans is just Scarecrow’s puppet, that’s how things are, and I just think that it is too big of a change from the original reasons for Jason to become Red Hood. And I will never get tired of saying this, Red Hood wasn’t only all about the Joker killing him and Batman not killing the Joker. The Red Hood was Jason’s way to make things work, to prove to Bruce that Batman wasn’t enough for Gotham. Red Hood came back to Gotham to stop bad people from introducing children to drugs and to make Gotham’s people feel safe.

He thought that Red Hood was the better version of Batman for Gotham and its people.

But I am not blind, I can see how Titans can twist it again to give us Red Hood as a protector of children and Gotham in general. I can see the “I used to do drugs and now I will fight so no other person goes through the same”, I see it and I am aware of it but it does also bring me to my other problem with Titans and DC in general: story swapping.

Story Swapping is something that DC loves to do, they thrive when they make change people’s origins for others and when they take character traits from one character to another.

And Titans’ Jason Todd is just that, he has characteristics and plot concepts from Dick Grayson and if what I just predicted happens then he will have some of Roy Harper's characteristics. And that is exactly what Lobdell did, but somehow, they managed to get different results. I cannot praise Titans for giving us a new Red Hood origin because they made his characterization with the help of other character’s origins and/or stories.

This is the first time that we see a live-action Jason Todd/Red Hood, was it really that hard to just stick to his origins as both Robin and Red Hood? There is so much to explore from Jason, there is so much between his death and him becoming Red Hood, from both before and after New 52.

Jason becoming Red Hood under the influence of Scarecrow in moths is lazy, bland and an insult to Jason’s character. They could have done things by the book and then explore things that we have never seen before in a show or movie.

Jason has had so much training outside of Gotham, why did Titans think that they could do acceptable work at bringing this amazingly complex character in a show that has nothing to do with him.

They could have had him killed in the Titans show and then wait and make a Red Hood show to actually tell a good story. What is Jason Todd doing in a show that is called Titans? Where are the Titans? They chose the most recognizable Titans’ line-up and they are not using it. They butchered Garth and Donna and for what?

DC gets away way too much with selling their stupid shows and movies by telling us that x character will appear but then when you watch the thing for that x character, they are nowhere to be seen. That’s exactly what they did with Cassandra Cain and what they are doing with Red Hood.

I don’t know how this tv show is doing, I only know that as a non-American that pays the same money for an HBO Max subscription, I don’t get to see any Titans content, not even a miserable trailer.

But I know that if non-comic readers are watching it, they will love it and if they actually were to start reading comics because of the show, then they wouldn’t find that Jason there. So, either that leads to Jason’s characterization being messed up even more within comics or it does nothing for Jason or comics.

To end this post, I just want to bring up the animated movie Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010).

That movie was widely praised and loved by critics, comic readers, and non-comic readers. It was fantastic, the story was amazing (even though it had differences with the comic, one might say that the differences improved the story), the voice acting was phenomenal, everything was done beautifully. Do you know what made it that way? The writing.

And you know who wrote the animated movie? The same person who wrote the comic the movie is based on, Judd Winick.

With that I am not saying that Titans should have had Judd write for them, what I am saying is that given the fact that they are using a pre-existing character they should chat with the Red Hood’s creator or even the writer that wrote for him for ten years after the character came back to comics.

This show obviously didn’t do that though, they preferred to write Jason Todd/Red Hood as if he were a Titans original character, but the thing is, from where I see it Titans didn’t give us an OC, they gave us an OOC.

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So, to sum it all up, I hate Titans’ version of Jason Todd/Red Hood, I think that it is not only badly written but there is also no real logic to what they are trying to do so far. I am also tired of their bad and lazy writing in general. And I would have liked the Titans’ writers to actually respect the Red Hood lore because if they had I would have actually been excited about a Red Hood spin-off show.

Using the material that is available to you isn’t a crime, building from that material is the best thing that they could have done, but all they really wanted to do was use Red Hood’s name to get more money from a dying show.

It makes the show look cheap and actually not interested in giving us good stories, and no, I wasn’t expecting Captain America: The Winter Soldier levels of good writing or good changes to a very loved story/characters, I was actually expecting some Lobdell writing level and the way I see it we ended up getting something worse.

These are all my opinions. You can like, love, or dislike this version of Jason and the show as much as you want but you won’t find any form of love towards the show in this blog, at least not right now.

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MY THOUGHTS ON TITANS’ RED HOOD,

AFTER WATCHING THE LAST EPISODE.

Well, I will start this part by saying: Sorry. I am sorry that I believed that Titans’ Red Hood was bad, it is actually worse than bad.

I was so wrong on many things, that review really made me think that things weren’t that bad but I still hated what I read. Now that I have watched the episode because I wanted this post to be extra honest and to stop myself from saying stupid stuff, I can also say that I hated what I watched.

This show really validates the two most horrible narratives that DC has been pushing for Jason: “he was a reckless Robin that didn’t think about his actions” and “he was to blame for his own death”

Jason Todd wasn’t a victim of Scarecrow, this Jason Todd took every single bad decision that he could, and those decisions led him to his death. No sympathy for this man.

Also, this Jason is like 19? He doesn’t look younger than that, but that’s not the point, what I am trying to point out is that this Robin is extremely underprepared, he lacks training and the mental capacity to stop acting like an edge lord every time he opens his mouth. He is annoying.

And I was wrong about Titans erasing the plotline of Jason’s mother dying of an overdose, she did die that way and this Jason spoke of her as if he hated her. What is going on? This Jason really doesn’t make me feel an ounce of sympathy for him. This attitude of “no one understands my pain” when everybody is trying to help you doesn’t make you look cool or anything of the sort, it makes you look annoying.

It is even worse because this Jason is so immature and reckless that he made his friend Molly (that is just a normal teen with no training) go after a thug with him, while he was not mentally well. He made that decision for them and put himself and her in danger. If that scene had gone any other way, then Jason could have been guilty of getting his friend injured or killed.

Jason Todd is so incredibly dumb; he is not a child but he acts like one every step of the way.

Nothing makes sense in his whole ass interaction with Bruce in front of the theatre, it’s like Jason refuses to listen to what Bruce tells him, well not that he refuses to listen it is more like a “Telefono descompuesto” I don’t know if you guys have that game but you basically have to tell something in someone’s ear and then the person repeats what they understood to the next and so on, what you said is heavily distorted by the end of the game. In this scene that is exactly what happens but it’s between two people.

When Jason accuses Bruce of not taking away Robin from Dick, Bruce says something along the lines of “I learned from my mistakes” and Jason says “so, I am a mistake now?”. Jason, use your ears, if Bruce says that he learned from his mistakes when talking about Dick, then his mistake was what he did with Dick. The writing is so bad, it's actually painful and it is even worse because the acting is bad, but I can’t blame the actors, it must really be hard to make a scene work when the writing is that bad. (Also, the unnecessary pauses, and the sounds that they play after they say something stupid, it is too funny).

Do you know what made me cringe? When they were having the chat in the theatre, in my mind all I could hear was “if you are nothing without the suit then you shouldn’t have it”, not me quoting Tony Stark in my head! I haven’t even watched that movie! But it fits perfectly for that scene.

The interaction with Scarecrow was more than dumb, if Jason was already acting like a child, now, he is basically acting like a toddler. Scarecrow saw right through him in seconds and just as fast decided that he was going to have fun with his new toy. He gave him a formula that wasn’t quite correct even though it looked like he knew exactly how to make the reverse version of his fear gas. This Jason has zero detective or survival skills but we already knew that when he made himself get captured and tortured by Deathstroke.

Anyway, all the interactions with Scarecrow were allowed to happen because this Jason can’t put two and two together. He convinces himself that everyone is out to get him, dude, Bruce is a detective and he also has eyes, Leslie didn’t tell him anything. If I were Bruce, you wouldn’t be able to be Robin anymore either.

I understand that Jason is not in a good mental place and that he wants to make his fears go away, but he had support, people around him were trying to get him help, trying to make him understand that he was hurting himself. His over-the-top anger and recklessness are unjustified when you refuse to take the help that is being offered to you.

He made terrible decisions for selfish purposes and that got him killed.

This is one of the last things I want to say, Scarecrow either didn’t need Jason at all to get out of Arkham or the writers made an oopsie because at the end of the episode he had someone helping him put Jason in the Lazarus Pit and then he was out of Arkham and he had a suit ready for Jason and everything. How did he manage all that? No idea.

The Lazarus Pit, yeah, I am sorry to be that person but the Pit can’t bring back people from the dead, it can only restore or heal physical and mental injuries (however grave they were), but Lobdell messed that one up already and Titans really didn’t have time to write a single good scene so what was I expecting?

Anyway, the last thing I wanted to say is that I know why Jason or Red Hood seems to not be affected by the drug when he sees Molly at the end of the episode, it is because the executive producer of the show is Geoff Johns! He loves making Jason fall for girls and get all mushy and dumb, do you guys remember how dumb he got when he left with Rose?

Jason being written as the kind of guy that acts like a love-sick puppy with a girl but also screams at her when he gets mad is peak Geoff Johns. So, if you were wondering where that came from, well, there it is.

Yeah, that is all I had to say, honestly if you have read this whole post then you are one strong individual, I am sorry I put you through all my thinking and rambling. You didn’t really deserve that.

I didn’t want to delete the first part of the post because I talked about so much more than the show and my thoughts before watching the episode still stand. I hope this post isn’t too confusing. As always you can think the complete opposite of me about the show or anything, I am just writing my thoughts.

Having said all that, I hope all of you, Titans’ lovers, haters, and people that simply do not care, have a wonderful week!

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Suicide Squad Team A

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS! Seriously, as soon as you click that read more, you’re gonna be smacked with SPOILERS! Don’t say I didn’t give you ample warning this time!)

The world’s in danger yet again, and Amanda Waller is in need of some expendable forces to take on some dirty jobs in the name of preserving peace. Last time she did this, it seems like she hired the wrong people. Nice guy Will Smith Deadshot? Bland, boring Killer Croc? El Diablo, who became attached to a bunch of reprobates after spending a couple hours with them? The only one who was useful in that squad was Katana. She had their backs, could cut all of them in half with one sword stroke just like mowing the lawn, and her sword traps the souls of its victims. Unfortunately, she was decidedly not expendable, so what is a girlboss like Waller to do?

Easy: Assemble a brand new squad of criminals to do the dirty work. Harley and Boomerang are the only ones she brought back, because let’s be real, they’re the only ones we give a damn about. Filling out the rest of the squad are the stoic, craggy crackshot Savant; the handsome, German spear-thrower Javelin; the alien warrior Mongal; the frothing, psychotic animal Weasel; the confident and all-powerful TDK; and Blackguard, who is literally just a guy. Together, this team gets deployed to Corto Maltese to do what no one else can do, and with skills like theirs, they are absolutely unstoppable!

They all fucking die before the opening credits.

Motivation/Goals: Considering the goal of the squad is to shave time off their prison sentences by going on the mission, it’s ostensibly the reason every single one of these goons accepted the job. Savant and Weasel are pretty well established in this regard; we get to focus on Savant for much of the opening, so we can get a sense of him, and Weasel is stated to have murdered no less than 27 children. So, yeah, they need to do this mission.

The rest, though? Who knows! Why are Mongal, Javelin, and TDK in prison? How did they even get an alien like Mongal? What did they do to land in the position they’d need to go on a suicide mission? Why doesn’t this movie have flashy, intrusive cards explaining everything to us in a throwaway gag in a montage?!

Blackguard, at least, has some other motivation. He sold out the entire squad to the military of Corto Maltese, which is why they’re ambushed. Now, there’s actually some ambiguity here: Did he do this of his own volition, and was this a complete surprise, or is it, as it is heavily implied, all part of Waller’s plan and she let this happen as a diversion for the other team to get in unnoticed?

Honestly, though, it doesn’t matter what their goals are. They’re all dead within five minutes of the movie starting, with one exception.

Performance: So, the reason these guys are even worth talking about is because, despite their minuscule screentime, all of their actors manage to cram in enough humor and characterization that they’re all pretty fun and likable. Michael Rooker is as stony and stoic as ever as Savant (until he hilariously isn’t), Flula Borg’s Javelin is really sweet and charming in his interactions with Harley, and Pete Davidson’s Blackguard is just amazingly douchey and pathetic. Special mention goes to Nathan Fillion’s TDK, who has an utterly endearing and unwavering faith in his astoundingly crappy ability to… detach his arms. It’s honestly kind of beautiful. Then there’s Weasel as portrayed by Sean Gunn, who is just a hilarious crackhead of an animal man.

Final Fate: Literally every single one of them die horribly thanks to Blackguard’s betrayal. He’s the first to go, because as soon as he walks out saying “Hey guys, it’s me, the one who contacted you!” he literally has his face blasted clean off. The rest go soon after. Mongal, in one of the most astounding moments of idiocy I’ve ever seen, leaps on a helicopter despite Rick Flag telling her specifically not to. Her weight and strength send it careening out of control, which leads to it shredding Captain Boomerang to bits before exploding, burning her alive as she painfully screams and writhes in agony. TDK gets his arms shot into Swiss cheese, leading to him bleeding out since even detached they still are part of him. Javelin is also shot, but gets a dying moment with Harley where he passes her Checkov’s Javelin. Finally, after witnessing all of this carnage, Savant completely loses his shit and tries to swim away, leading to Waller blowing his head up.

You may be wondering what happened to Weasel. He appears to drown as soon as the Squad deploys, because despite being actually smart in this movie, Waller forgot to make sure everyone on the Squad could swim. Thankfully, this lovable child-murdering crackhead rodent was just sleeping, and wakes up in the first credit scene.

Best Scene: Obviously, it’s their one and only scene. It’s a magnificent slaughter that puts the X-Force scene from Deadpool 2 to shame.

Final Thoughts & Score: I’ve gotta hand it to James Gunn. Even though these losers are only onscreen for a few minutes, they all get to cram a lot of charm and personality into that time, to the point it’s actually kind of sad seeing them all die. It’s a beautiful mix of comedy and tragedy. Since their screentime is so limited, though, I’m mostly going to be grading them on style, performance, and so on rather than on villainy like normal. They are all bad guys, as they don’t really get a chance to redeem themselves like the other Squad, so I’m still counting them as villains, which means they could potentially score above an 8 (which is the highest score I’m willing to give heel-face turn villains, because they end up being better as characters in general than as villains).

I’m also not going to talk about Boomerang (I’ll talk about him when I review the original Squad) or Harley (because she not only lives, but deserves her own solo Psycho Analysis). Now here we go, from best to worst:

TDK

If you thought anyone but TDK would get top marks, you’re sadly mistaken. Seeing Nathan Fillion proudly wield the insanely lame power to detach his arms to lightly tap soldiers on the head and gently grab their guns is a sight I never knew I needed to see until this movie. The fact he just seems so darn proud about this power that he doesn’t even bother to use in any way that would be remotely useful is honestly really endearing. Frankly, the sheer fact they adapted Arms-Fall-Off Boy in any way is enough for me to give him a 10/10.

Weasel

Weasel is just disgustingly delightful. He’s just a horrible, nasty, ugly little bastard… But he’s kind of adorable? He clearly has no idea where he is at any given time and is just so goddamn freaky that I can’t help but love him. The fact that, despite being a character who in the comics is noteworthy only for dying on his first mission with the Squad, he manages to survive the entire movie is pretty impressive. Hopefully he comes back in the future, but either way he gets an 8/10 from me.

Javelin

Honestly, aside from Boomerang, his death stung the most. He’s just so cute and charming, and he doesn’t even get to fling his javelin at anyone! Thankfully, he passes it on to Harley, and boy does she ever get to use it! He’s so cute, I have to give him an 8/10. I just wish we got more of him.

Savant

Savant is just an absolutely hilarious bait-and-switch. We follow him through the prologue, with everything seeming to point to him as our main character and the Squad leader. He’s stoic, he’s cranky, and he has impeccable aim… and then we get to the beach and he just freaks the hell out and starts screaming and crying and running away like a little bitch. Seeing Michael Rooker act like he’s shitting his pants after playing a badass like Yondu is just the sort of hilarious subversiveness that James Gunn loves to do when you let him loose. The fact that he looks like, to paraphrase the TVTropes YMMV page for the movie, a “cyberpunk Tommy Wiseau” is the icing on this 7/10 cake.

Blackguard

I was prepared to hate this guy just based on how lame Pete Davidson’s costume was, and you know what? I do hate him. But I love to hate him. He’s just an utterly pathetic scoundrel and a coward, true to his name. The fact he is the first to die, as just about everyone predicted, and is killed absolutely gruesomely makes any annoyance he could provide moot, and his freeakout over being seated next to Weasel on the plane is actually kind of funny. I was originally going to give him a 6, but you know what? He can have a low 7/10. He’s like the only member of this particular Squad to actually do anything evil, so I gotta give him props for that.

Mongal

Let me make this perfectly clear: I do not blame James Gunn or actress Mayling Ng. I’m not actually mad at either of them for what they chose to do, because it is ultimately hilarious and sad. It suited the narrative of the film, and I’m not actually, genuinely mad.

With all that out of the way, Mongal is one hell of a stupid cunt. It is one thing to cause your own death with your stupidity, it is something else entirely to cause the death of a beloved character with your poorly planned attack. The fact she didn’t take into account how her weight and strength would effect an airborne helicopter makes one wonder if she is really supposed to be based on a character who can take on Superman and live to tell about it.

Let’s compare her to two similar characters to really show how bad she is. Like Blackguard, she is directly responsible for a death on the beach, Blackguard being responsible for everyone by selling them out and leading them into an ambush (and yes, I’m including him as well), and Mongal killing Boomerang with the chopper. The difference is, Blackguard’s betrayal was deliberate, he meant to sell the team out, he was actively doing something evil there, while Mongal killed Boomerang out of sheer idiocy.

Now, let’s compare her to Zeitgeist from the similar bloody massacre that occurred during X-Force’s deployment in Deadpool 2. Like Mongal, he accidentally kills a teammate. The difference is, in the case of Zeitgeist, he only accidentally melted Peter, it was a freak accident, and ultimately it does get undone by the end. Meanwhile, Mongal made a conscious, stupid decision and ended up killing her squadmate with her own idiocy. She sucks, hardcore. I don’t do this lightly, but I’m giving her a 1/10. Villains just don’t get much stupider than her.

I will giver her this, though: the makeup work on her is good. She’s lowkey kinda hot if I’m being honest. But being hot and having good makeup does not a good villain make.