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greensagephase · 3 months

Text

Nonviolent Communication - Part 12

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader Summary: An unexpected temporary change. Word Count: 24,291 Warnings: A building catches fire; someone falls; mention of injury Previous Part Masterlist Music Inspo (You can find the official Spotify playlist for the fanfic here ! It includes all the music I've listened to throughout the chapters for writing, including music for the one-shots, and some songs I decided not to include originally in the chapter posts. This was due to the romantic context they have and we're not at that point yet, but I was using them more for vibes if that makes sense? The lyrics are not relevant, not yet anyway.🤭) "Spider-Man" - John Paesano "Moving Forward" - John Paesano "Blue Moon" - Billie Holiday "Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, 21 Savage, A$AP Rocky "Another Dimension" - Pop Money

Part 12

You sleep peacefully under warm covers in your once shared bedroom. Your arms are wrapped around a pillow, the one that used to belong to Peter. You once slept in a different position but ever since his death, your sleeping position changed. You began to hug his pillow at night, pretending that it was him because his scent was on it. Those days led to years and now, hugging a pillow is the only way you can sleep, even if the pillow has long ago lost the scent of its owner. Your head rests on the pillow, like how it used to rest on Peter’s chest at night when you laid in bed and talked about anything and everything in the comfort of your small apartment.

It’s how you lay now on the same bed you’ve had for years. You’re resting, peacefully and calmly. Sleep has a strong hold on you as you dream - of Peter. You sit in your living room and watch as he browses through your bookshelf, the old one. Your eyes scan it, noticing it’s in great condition. If anything it looks like it did when Peter was alive, almost brand new. He mutters quietly to himself as he searches, his fingers tracing the books’ spines, searching for a specific title.

“Found it,” Peter says before he turns around to face you, showing you the book by holding it up.

You smile at him from the couch as you catch his playful grin before he approaches you, and takes a seat next to you.

“We haven’t read this one in a while. I think it’s time. It’s winter after all,” he says as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, gently pulling you into his warmth.

“It is winter,” you confirm as you lean into his touch, into his body. You sigh softly, taking in his scent. You close your eyes for a few seconds, relishing it. It’s been so long but you know it so well - as if it were your own scent. It brings you so much comfort and peace, it reminds you that there’s another scent that incites those same feelings now. Miguel’s.

You open your eyes as Peter begins to read. His voice is gentle and warm, and his arm is still wrapped around you. You look at him and smile before looking around the apartment. You hear Peter but your mind still registers the mixture of the old and new decorations in the apartment. There’s the old bookshelf you had but the photographs on the wall are different. It’s small things like that. You turn away and snuggle closer to Peter, having to stop yourself from almost murmuring his name tenderly in response to the feel of his body, his warmth, his scent. Peter is really here with you. You’re together. Again.

You feel Peter’s arm gently tighten around your shoulders, caressing your arm in an affectionate way as he reads. You feel at peace sitting with him in your apartment.

“Wake up,” Peter says gently.

You sit still, listening to him read and letting the sound of his voice surround you, believing that his previous statement is part of the story.

“Wake up, love,” Peter says, forcing you to face him. His tone is still gentle but there’s an edge to it that wasn’t there before. “Please wake up.”

“What-Peter?” you ask softly, confused.

“Please wake up, love. You need to wake up.”

You look around, noting the urgency in Peter’s tone. “Peter, what’s happening?”

“I love you,” he whispers, leaning closer and pressing his forehead to yours. “Everything will be okay, darling.”

“Peter!”

You sit up in bed, gasping Peter’s name. You look around your bedroom, breathing rapidly. You swear you can still feel his warmth but it’s fading quickly.

“Peter,” you whisper in the darkness as you realize it was just a dream. You sigh heavily, trying to come to your senses. It has been a while since you dreamed about Peter and you can’t help but feel shaken up by the abruptness at the end. It was so sweet, like how it used to be when Peter was alive. Even in the darkness, you long to be back in your dream, if only to feel like that again - to feel and smell Peter, to hear his voice.

You rub your eyes gently, yawning and contemplating your dream for a few seconds when your spidey senses go off. You look around quickly, going still to listen intently for sirens - for chaos. You hear nothing. You get out of bed regardless, walking to your radio, the one that alerts you of emergencies. You wait for it, but before any feedback comes from the device, the smell reaches you first.

Smoke.

You sniff again because you believe that you’re mistaken and that the scent must be something else. Yet, smoke is all you can smell.

“Fire?” you whisper to yourself before you rush into your suit.

You change quickly and put your gizmo on before you check your apartment, finding nothing, so you slip out through a window to check what’s going. Your eyes widen when you see it, disbelief and shock hitting you at once when you discover that one of the floors is in flames. Your heart sinks at the sight.

“Wake up.”

You frown as you remember your dream, Peter’s words specifically. It couldn’t be, could it? Did he warn you somehow, or is it just your imagination? You fix your mask, pushing your thoughts away for now, before you launch into action. You quickly move to the main floor on fire, breaking a window and slipping inside. The change of temperature is instant. Outside, it’s cold, being the beginning of winter, but as soon as you’re inside, you feel the heat from the flames. The smell of smoke is stronger now, filling your nose. You call out for someone, eyes searching for civilians as you move through the flames. You hear someone scream, causing you to turn in that direction. You carefully make your way there, knowing you need to hurry before the building is engulfed in flames with the tenants inside.

You find your way and discover a young woman that looks familiar. Your brain tries to identify her but in the heat of the moment, you can’t.

“My friend! She’s inside the bedroom! I think she passed out from the smoke, please get her out!” the woman says, covering her nose from the smoke, with tears rolling down her face.

“I’ll get you out first!” you reply grabbing her arm and pulling her towards you. “Once I get you out, call the police! I don’t think anyone has called yet!” you order her, as you try to hear for sirens but fail to.

You shoot your web, securing her and lowering her down the building until she reaches the ground before you begin to search for the other person. It doesn’t take you long to find the person. A young woman lays on the bedroom’s floor, passed out. You quickly check for a pulse and after finding one, you carry her out of the building, carefully delivering her to her friend on the ground. The first woman notifies you that she has called the police and that they and firefighters should be on their way. You also notice a small crowd of random people have gathered, so you instruct them to stay back and to not enter the premises.

You glance at the building for a few seconds, praying that it doesn’t go up in flames completely. As you swing back to the building’s wall, you thankfully hear sirens in the distance. You slip inside through a window belonging to another apartment, not caring to startle the tenants as your main priority is to get everyone out now. You quickly evacuate the floor mainly affected before you move to the floor above and below. At this point several tenants have heard the commotion, making your job easier in quickly evacuating them. However, you realize not everyone comes out, so you enter apartments, calling out for tenants you’ve seen in passing over the years, and finding some of them scared and shocked by the circumstances, so much that they don’t realize they need to get out. You find other individuals still sleeping and unaware of the situation, and must wake them up. The process is hard for you as you have to ease people’s fright from not only waking up to a masked person, Spider-Woman, in their homes, but also from the news of the fire as the flames grow and spread.

As you safely deliver some people out of the building, you notice the firefighters and police have arrived. The police has secured the premises, keeping the gathered civilians from entering the building while firefighters move quickly to stop the fire. As you lead a civilian to safety, you can hear someone talking over a megaphone, trying to wake up tenants from the floors above, still unaffected.

“Spider-Woman!”

You turn, pausing just as you were about to lunge off the ground. You find a firefighter, realizing it’s the captain. You don’t recognize him, which leads you to believe he’s new.

“I have people working on putting out the fire, and others on evacuating. These people have told me you’ve been evacuating tenants. What about the floor beneath?” the man asks. “I need to know so we’ll know what floors need evacuation.”

You quickly tell him what you’ve covered, easing the man’s worries for the main floors affected now.

“I’ll evacuate the floors below,” you add as you realize the building could collapse and trap those tenants.

“Alright, some of my people are already on it. We’re also trying to wake up the people on the higher floors to start evacuating!” the man says a little louder just as another firetruck pulls up with their sirens on.

“Got it!” you state.

“Be careful!” the captain calls out before he, too, jumps into the scene.

With a nod, you turn towards the building, finding several people now looking out from their windows before disappearing into their apartments from the higher floors, including people from your own. That’s not the only thing you notice however, you also take notice of the flames and how they’re spreading.

“Everything will be okay, darling,” Peter said.

Peter’s words flash in your mind as adrenaline rushes through your body. You lunge back into action and evacuate more tenants from the lower floors. Thankfully this doesn’t take as long now that you have the help of the firefighters, which allows you to focus on the floors above. It’s there that you run into another full family - parents and children. So far you’ve only encounter roommates and spouses but very few families with children. Seeing them, you quickly decide to make a safety net out of your web. You quickly make it, extending it from one lamp post to another one, making sure it’s big enough for adults and that’s it’s secure. After reassuring the tenants that it’s safe, you help the family reach safety out of the building with the assistance of the firefighters. Your safety net turns out to be very helpful as you don’t have to carry out so many people.

You feel confident as you evacuate more people but the smoke becomes unbearable. It’s all you can smell and it makes your eyes tear up, almost making you lose your balance at one point.

“Y/N! Do you need backup?” you hear a voice.

Lyla.

You shake your head, blinking several times before you finally spot Lyla above your gizmo. “No. No need for backup. I got the situation cover.” You start moving again, your steps determine as you lead some tenants towards the end of the hallway. “Don’t tell anyone. Not Miguel. Jess. Peter B.. No one,” you tell her as you carefully lead the tenants out.

All you see is Lyla disappear before you focus on the task at hand. You get the tenants out before running back to search again. You offer help as you enter an apartment. You walk past the kitchen, already in flames. Even with the sound of sirens outside, you hear something spark, catching your attention. Your spidey senses warn you just before it blows up. You instantly cover your face and stumble backwards as flames jump at you.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

Your sweatshirt lays where it always rests - near Miguel. Your comforting scent fills Miguel’s lungs as he sleeps peacefully, no nightmares disturbing his sleep. Yet, he startles awake. His eyes search his dark bedroom immediately before he sits up slowly. He detects nothing, not even a sound from the city outside, but that doesn’t ease the strange sensation in his chest.

“Lyla,” Miguel calls out because he’s certain that something is amiss.

“Miguel,” Lyla says a second later, appearing in midair with a tone that Miguel recognizes all too well.

“What’s happening?” he asks, already out of bed with his suit halfway on.

“She said she didn’t want backup,” Lyla replies, causing Miguel to pause for only a second before he continues to slide on his gizmo.

“Who?” Miguel asks, but his heart already knows the answer. He can feel that this is why he woke up. It has to be.

“Y/N.” Lyla follows Miguel as he rushes out of his bedroom and into the hallway. He jumps from the top of the stairs to the first floor, clicking his gizmo hurriedly. “Her building caught on fire. It doesn’t seem too bad. Only a few floors so far. She has been helping the tenants out of the building while the firefighters are working to stop the fire from spreading. I asked if she wanted backup but she asked me not to,” Lyla explains. “I was going to tell you.”

“Mierda. You should’ve,” Miguel says looking at the portal that he’s opened.

“Miguel, I don’t think she wants help. She’s doing perfectly well on her own, so, just - let her do her thing and then we can check up on her,” Lyla says as she follows Miguel, who in his hurry, rips the portal open with his suit to reach your universe sooner.

“She’s not hurt, is she?” Miguel asks, stepping out onto a nearby rooftop. The sound of sirens immediately fills his ears and of course, there’s the bright light from the fire itself. Miguel’s red eyes scan it, noticing that four floors are in flames and it’s spreading to the fifth. There’s a large crowd of people on the street in their pajamas - a sight that makes Miguel feel empathy. A fire is disastrous enough but even more so when it takes place on such vulnerable moments like one’s sleep.

“She’s not hurt but she seems tired though. She’s been carrying people out and searching the building for tenants non-stop.”

“Ask her if she wants backup again but don’t tell her I’m here,” Miguel says softly yet sternly, respecting your choice of declining backup, even though everything in him is screaming to go and find you.

Lyla disappears with a nod. She appears again thirty seconds later with a frown that makes Miguel frown, too.

“She said no,” Miguel says and Lyla nods. Miguel sighs heavily. “Keep up with her. Alert me if she needs help, please.”

Miguel watches from the rooftop, even after Lyla disappears, as the firefighters run around trying to put down the fire. They scream at each other, giving directions and warnings as they move about. Scanning the scene, Miguel spots a web trap you set up on one side of the building. He finds another one near the fire stairs to help tenants land on it from the higher floors. The large group of people in their pajamas reassures Miguel that you should be done soon - that you’ll be out of danger shortly.

He’s so concerned about your well-being it only now truly hits Miguel that this isn’t a random apartment building but yours. Your apartment. The realization instantly makes him feel sorrow - your beautiful place, the one you redecorated only months ago might be lost, but more importantly, Miguel realizes all your precious belongings might be damaged if not completely burnt to ashes. He specifically thinks about your record player and vinyls, knowing how much they mean to you because of Peter. He wonders, if there’s a slight chance that you took them out already, but Miguel feels certain that you haven’t, and that you’ve focused on safely evacuating the tenants before securing your own belongings.

“Lyla.”

“She still doesn’t want backup. She’s moving through the fifth floor,” Lyla says just as Miguel sees figures from one of the floors - the fifth one - reach the fire stairs. He spots you as you reinforce the web trap before you talk to the tenants, possibly assuring them that it’s safe. The individuals jump off one by one, safely landing on your web trap before they’re assisted by nearby firefighters.

Miguel’s heart beats heavily as you disappear into the building again, immediately hidden by the smoke and flames. “Her belongings. Did she take anything out yet?” Miguel says, forcing himself to speak, trying to push down his worry.

“She hasn’t. She trusts the firefighters will stop the fire before it reaches her floor.”

“What about the tenants on the higher floors? Have then been evacuated?” Miguel asks.

“Yes. They’ve been evacuated but Y/N is making sure everyone is out of the building.”

“How is she doing? How many more people are in there?” Miguel asks as he stands on the edge of the rooftop. He hasn’t even noticed it but he has been extracting and retracting his talons the entire time, anxiously.

“I’ll check.”

Miguel nods, standing alone as he watches the firefighters put out the fire on one side of the building, trying to contain it.

You push doors and enter apartments, quickly but efficiently checking for any civilians that may be in danger. You try to keep your head low to avoid inhaling smoke, which not only makes your eyes water but also makes you want to cough as you breath some of it in. You call out, offering help. There are no voices, yet you still check to make sure no one stays behind. You walk down the hallway, almost losing your balance from a large gap on the floor destroyed from the flames beneath. You tell yourself to be more careful and to avoid the smoke, as it’s blocking your vision. After regaining your balance, you look down and see the flames consuming the floor below. You make a jump for it, securing yourself with web just in case the floor gives out once you land. Fortunately, it doesn’t.

You step into another apartment, offering help. Your eyes scan the space hurriedly as you yell out for anyone. You’re so concerned about not leaving anyone behind that you fail to notice a loose wooden board hanging behind you as your eyes search the apartment. You look around, coughing a little due to the smoke before the board falls on you - hitting you on your shoulder. You wince, taking your shoulder and putting pressure on it to ease the ache that was left from it. You search room after room before you return to the hallway, making your way into another apartment. You enter it quickly, checking a bedroom and finding no one, before you go into the living room where you surprisingly fall through the floor and onto the one below.

You grunt softly as you feel the impact of the fall. Still on the ground, you look around and realize you’re lucky that you didn’t fall straight into flames but instead into a small pocket of space that has been spared from the flames - for now.

“She just fell through the floor but seems unscathed,” Lyla reports to Miguel.

He nods, concern etched on his face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, she’s up now and searching the floor one last time.”

Miguel nods, eyes narrowing. His talons keep retracting and extracting unconsciously. It’s been a few minutes since he saw you come out through the fire stairs with a family. He silently hopes you get out of the building soon. His nerves have not settled down at all, even as he has been watching the firefighters work relentlessly to stop the spread of the fire.

“Anyone here?!” you call out as you cough out, knowing that the fifth floor has been cleared up.

“Here!”

You turn as you hear a masculine voice.

“Over- here!” the man says, his tone indicating pain.

You make your way to them as quickly as possible, crawling whenever you can to avoid the smoke. You come across a yellow suited person. A firefighter. You reach them quickly, realizing that they have debris over their legs.

“Spider-Woman,” the firefighter says as he realizes it’s you.

“I’m going to lift this off you, okay? Is that alright?” you ask them as you prepare to lift the debris off them.

“Yes - I think I have a broken leg,” the firefighter tells you.

You nod, feeling bad for the man before you gently lift the debris off them to avoid any more injuries.

“Okay, okay. I’m going to drag you to the nearest window - we need to get you out of this smoke,” you tell him.

“We both need to get out of this smoke,” he says, grimacing. “We can request a ladder from the window.”

“Alright, tell me if I’m hurting you,” you reply as you move around and position yourself. You lift him up from his underarms, your hands meeting in front of his chest to drag him, hoping you don’t meet with flames as you move. Your eyes water but you push through it as you spot a window. You move faster, avoiding injuring the firefighter.

“Ladder!” you yell out and thankfully, there’s a ladder on the floor below that quickly moves up to meet you. “Firefighter injured! Possibly a broken leg!” you inform the firefighter on the ladder.

“That’s Samuel! I was looking for him! Here!” the other firefighter responds as they set up to help you.

As a team, the non-injured firefighter and you lower Samuel down the ladder. Your sticky powers come in aid as you hold Samuel’s weight so the other firefighter doesn’t carry his weight alone. At last, the three of you reach the ground where other firefighters help with Samuel, taking him away to receive treatment.

“Is that everyone, Spider-Woman? We didn’t find any other tenants,” a woman says.

“I checked the fifth floor, there was no one else. Everyone else from the upper floors should have evacuated earlier but I’ll do one quick sweep,” you reply as your eyes scan the fire. It seems to be dying now thanks to the firefighters’ efforts but you still can’t find peace. Not until the flames are fully gone. You nod to the firefighters before you swing back to the building, hoping once again that your building, the one that you’ve lived at for years, won’t completely burn down.

You check every floor, thankful that the flames have not reached this point of the building. You can smell the smoke on yourself as you check every apartment to make sure that no one has stayed behind. As you search, you can’t help but feel sorrow. It seems that the firefighters are isolating the fire but even then, you’ve assisted in enough fires and know that the building will be inaccesible for a few weeks, if not months, depending on how fast an investigation is done to find the reasoning for the fire. It also depends on how soon the landlord starts with the cleaning and rebuilding.

You sigh deeply as you push through a door and search. You suddenly remember a conversation from weeks ago, making you pause in someone’s living room. Your memory connects the first woman you saved and her friend to New Year’s Eve. You sigh again but this time upset. You recall seeing the two women that evening when you were leaving the building at the same time to visit your loved ones at the cemetery. You move around the apartment, remembering that one of the women asked the other one if they had unplugged their Christmas lights. They didn’t. That reminds you of the fact that your landlord passed out a notice asking all tenants to avoid leaving the holiday lights plugged all day to avoid a short circuit last month. You silently wonder now if this fire was due to an overloaded socket, if this is an electric fire.

Finding no one in the apartment, you move to the next floor. You check the floor quickly and move to the next until you reach your floor. You check every apartment and then yours, even though you know there should be no one there. You move on to the next floors and thankfully, there are no tenants left inside. You notify the firefighters who tell you the fire has ceased at last. You linger around for a few minutes, hearing the worries and complaints of tenants - all worried about their housing situation. After hearing the firefighters inform tenants that no one can enter the premise until it can be ruled out that this isn’t a crime scene, you retreat silently and enter the building again undetected.

You find yourself in your apartment, standing in the middle of your living room, silently thinking about how you won’t be able to be here for some time. You allow yourself a few minutes before you begin to collect some items. The first items you collect are Peter’s record player and all the vinyls. You take them to your bed, deciding to make your bed the collecting place. You return to the living room, focusing on the photos on your wall. Once they’re collected, you move to the bookcase where you get Peter’s belongings, like his books and other small decorations. You also remember to retrieve photo albums storing photos from all the way to your childhood to the last years with Peter. Lastly, you pick up technological devices like your laptop and the tablet Miguel gifted you for Christmas from his universe from the living room.

At last, you focus on your bedroom, heading to the closet immediately. You quickly locate a plastic file organizer that contains important legal documents belonging to Peter and you. The two of you were prepared just in case something like this ever happened since neither of you wanted to lose important documents in a rush due to a fire or some other emergency.

You open the file organizer slowly, spotting a passport. You pick it up and open it. Peter’s photo greets your eyes and despite yourself, you stare at it for a few seconds. You briefly remember going together to renew it for a trip the two of you took years ago and how excited he was about it. The passport is still valid, leading you to silently wonder about the many trips the two of you would’ve gone on if everything was different. Smiling, you shake your head and place the passport back, zipping the file organizer back to avoid losing anything.

You look around your bedroom, not sure where you’ll be staying at yet. You grab your favorite tote bag, the one that Miguel gifted you this past Christmas, and place the file organizer in it. You search your bedroom and start putting other items into the bag. Your mind is concerned about the stability of the building. What if it collapses? This thought keeps running through your mind as you retrieve Peter’s box, the one that contains all of his clothes and other belongings you packed away. There’s no way you’re leaving his belongings behind and possibly losing them.

You bring the box to the bed, placing it next to the tote bag before you retrieve other items. Once you have a pile of items, you fetch a carry-on to pack everything in.

You search your apartment one more time, making sure you’re not leaving anything of sentimental value - anything that belonged to Peter or your parents. Finding nothing else, you begin to pack your belongings in the carry-on. As you pack, you finally start to think about where you’ll be staying. This situation is most likely going to last for a few weeks, if not months. You’re certain the fire started because of an electrical issue. The building is, after all, on the older side, and there was that notice from your landlord back in December. It seems to add up. However, even if the fire is deemed an electrical fire and there’s no need for a longer investigation, the cleaning and rebuilding of the building might take months unless your landlord miraculously pulls it together somehow. You can only hope but for now you have to figure out where you’ll be staying.

“Hotel,” you say to yourself as you remember the plan Peter and you came up with. The plan used to be your parents and Aunt May’s place but with them gone, it changed to a hotel. You sigh softly as you carefully pack your belongings, trying to avoid any damage to the sensitive items like the records. Your spidey senses suddenly go off again, causing you to turn.

“Please tell me you’re not actually considering staying at a hotel,” Miguel says softly as he comes in from the living room, hoping not to startle you. “You’re more than welcome to stay at my place.”

“Miguel,” you say gently as he approaches you, stopping near you but keeping enough distance to give you space.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone filled with concern. His eyes search your body, even in the barely lit room, trying to find any sign of injury. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay. At least, I think so,” you answer. “Nothing hurts.”

“Good. I’m relieved to hear that. I wanted - to help you, but Lyla said you didn’t want backup.”

“Lyla…” you say, narrowing your eyes as you remember declining backup and asking her not to tell Miguel or anyone else. “She told you.”

“No. She didn’t. I actually…” Miguel looks away for a few seconds. “I think I sensed it somehow. I woke up on my own and had this… feeling. When I asked her what was happening, that’s when she told me. I traveled here immediately but watched from afar, just in case you wanted backup,” Miguel says quietly, not quite sure what to make of this fact in the moment. All he cares about is that you’re unhurt, or at least it seems that way. He’ll be making sure of it once you both reach Nueva York, or somewhere far safer with better lighting.

You smile softly at the fact that Miguel somehow sensed your situation despite the fact that he doesn’t have a spidey sense. You stare at each other in the darkness of the room, thinking about that special connection between the two of you. Neither of you understand it, nor have addressed it since the day you told Miguel how you knew he was in trouble back in the spring when he came face to face with a variant of the Green Goblin and he was stranded on Earth-42, and he was injured. Despite not talking about it, the two of you have thought about it. Sometimes you wonder how is it possible but regardless, you feel comforted by it. As to Miguel, he used to find it both comforting and fearful, though these days when he thinks about it, he finds himself no longer feeling afraid of that bond and what it means. He’s embraced this connection - this bond - as the months have passed.

“I see. Well, thank you for coming and for respecting my decision about backup,” you tell him softly.

Miguel nods, looking at you. “Always,” he replies, knowing deep inside of him that he’ll always show up for you and respect your decisions. “You were - amazing,” he adds quietly.

You smile warmly, feeling a bit of heat in your cheeks thanks to Miguel’s compliment, but also because it reminds you of the times Peter used to tell you the same thing when he saw footage of you on the news. You blink softly, pushing the memories away for now.

“I was - okay, but thank you. I’m just glad no one was seriously hurt,” you reply, turning away and continuing to pack.

Miguel frowns. Did he say something wrong?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says, softly.

You pause and turn to face him. “What - no. You didn’t. I’m sorry,” you whisper even though there’s no need to. There’s no else in the apartment, or even in the building. “Your words didn’t upset me. Seriously, thank you. It means a lot coming from another Spider person - coming from you,” you say with a warm smile, pausing to make sure that Miguel understands his words didn’t upset you. “Believe me. It’s just - I have Peter on my mind. I mean, he’s always there, you know? But tonight, with this fire - and collecting his items - he’s even more present in my mind right now, and your words… He used to tell me things like that when he saw me in action. I’m just feeling a little… sentimental.”

Miguel nods, understanding, yet also feeling relieved that he didn’t upset you with his words. “I see. I’m sorry that Peter…” he starts but is unable to finish as his mind runs with thoughts. If Peter was alive, Miguel is sure the two of you would’ve been packing together right now. Knowing how organized you are, Miguel imagines that the two of you had some plan in action for these kinds of emergencies. Instead, you’re here on your own packing Peter’s belongings because he’s no longer here. “I wish things were different,” he says at last, wanting to say more but not sure he should due to the sensitive circumstances.

You nod softly. “Thank you. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay,” you reply, the last statement feeling sweet in your mouth as you recall Peter telling you that in your dream.

Miguel nods and watches as you pack, feeling admiration that even in this moment you seem so put together. “Always,” he answers quietly before he looks at your belongings. “Is this everything you’re taking? I can help take some of these items out to another rooftop, somewhere far from the building to avoid civilians’ eyes. We can open a portal from there.”

You look at him, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“You’re not actually going to a hotel, are you? There’s Gabriel’s room, empty. You can stay there for as long as necessary. Until the building is deemed safe for living.”

“Miguel, that might mean that-” you start but Miguel shakes his head, and lifts his hand up, asking you to stop because he knows where you’re going with this.

“It might mean that you stay there for weeks, or even months. I know the process can be tedious and long in these situations. That’s why you can’t stay at a hotel. Not when you have options. Please, you’ll be far more comfortable there.”

You pause your packing and stare at the items on your bed, contemplating. Accepting Miguel’s offer would mean staying with him for at least a few weeks. That would entail taking some of his privacy away. You briefly think about the fact that neither of you have lived with someone in a while, especially you. There’s also the fact that you wouldn’t be sleeping here, in your universe, for so long - a thought that makes you a little sad.

“It’s not a problem for me,” Miguel starts, noticing your silence but sensing your internal debate. “You will not be invading my privacy. You’ll have your own space and I won’t bother you. Just - think about it. At least for tonight, stay there.”

You turn to him with a raised eyebrow. “Did you just say you won’t bother me? That’s not even something I’m worried about.” You shake your head softly, and despite everything, laugh a little, a sound that makes Miguel grin in the dim lit bedroom. “I’m concerned about the fact that I’d be sleeping in another universe for more than a few days. About invading your space. I don’t want to intrude and be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden. You could never be…” Miguel says gently, silently wondering why you’d think that. “We are… You know what we are.”

You nod slowly. “Yes… I know,” you whisper. You sigh after a few seconds and nod again. “Okay, just for a little bit - a few days.”

“Or, a few weeks. Months, if necessary. Unless you’re not comfortable at my home,” Miguel says quietly with a bit of a frown.

“It’s not that. I just - you’re used to your space, and I’m used to mine,” you answer quietly. “Neither of us has - you know - it’s been a while since either of us has shared our space with another person.”

Miguel nods, understanding what you mean, yet, he thinks back to the last spring when he was injured.“I know, but I think it’ll be okay. We’ve - kind of done it before.”

You stare at Miguel in surprise, realizing that he’s right. You’ve stayed at his home before and those days felt - normal, almost right. You both fell into a routine very quickly. Yet, you can’t help but think that after a few days of staying there, your presence might disturb Miguel’s routine.

“Don’t overthink it. If you’re not comfortable for whatever reason, then we can figure something out but please,” Miguel says.

You finally nod, because the man before you has been offering way too many times now for you to keep refusing, and besides, you’d feel better there than at a hotel room on your own.

“Okay, but if you need me to leave, please let me know, okay?” you ask.

Miguel nods, though he’s biting back from telling you that he would never do such a thing to someone who has found themselves in this situation, even less to you. However, Miguel refrains from voicing this thought because he doesn’t want to add stress to your already stressful morning.

“Alright... Is this everything you’re packing? For now, at least? We can come back later and retrieve more items.” Miguel looks around for a few seconds. “Honestly - we could take all your furniture and store it on one of the lower floors, just in case. That way nothing happens to your belongings.”

You shake your head gently at him, yet feel appreciation for the offer. “That’s not necessary. I don’t mind if something happens to this furniture. I hope not because that would mean the other tenants would lose their belongings, but I’m not as attached as I was to the old furniture, so I don’t mind. I have everything I want to save right, just in case. So, it’s alright, really,” you reply softly with a small smile.

“If you’re sure - if not, my offer stands. I’m sure if we get the whole group, we could get everything out in no time. I mean it,” Miguel says. “It would be no problem. Just think about it, okay?” he says gently, wanting to be as helpful as possible without pushing too much, though all he wishes to do is help you and be there for you for who he is - your friend. “Alright, I’ll help you with this bag and box. You can hold on to the record player, “ Miguel offers, knowing how much Peter’s record player means to you.

You nod and finish packing. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. After dropping everything off I’m coming back to see if anyone needs help. I hope you don’t mind me returning a bit later.”

“Of course not. I know there may be emergencies during the night, so you’ll need to go in and out. I understand. Don’t worry about it, okay?” Miguel replies and you nod, grateful. “Have you packed clothes, at least a few changes?”

You stop, realizing. You hadn’t even thought of that since you were more concerned with keeping Peter’s belongings and other sentimental items safe first. “I haven’t, let me do that really quickly.”

You find another travel bag, the one that you used back when you stayed at Miguel’s place when you were looking after him, and begin packing. In a matter of minutes you put it together, packing clothes for at least a week before you pack your personal hygiene products. At last, you have everything you think you’ll need. Miguel picks up Peter’s box and two travel bags as the two of you get ready to leave.

You thank him again as you pick up the other items and head to the window both of you entered the apartment through. Before slipping out, the two of you pause at the window, taking in one last glance - silently thinking that you’d like to see it one last time, just in case. The two of you exit the apartment before you close the window with a heavy pang in your chest. You hope that you’ll only be away for a few weeks, and not months from your little apartment but only time will tell. You follow Miguel, holding on to your belongings. You check very quickly to see what’s going on outside your building, wondering how many of your neighbors are still there. You notice that the crowd has become smaller, and some people are taking cabs.

About a minute later, you both land on a rooftop. Miguel opens a portal and gestures for you to go first. You do so, but not without another glance. You’ll be back in a few minutes to check on the situation but for now, you head to Nueva York - the only other dimension in the entire multiverse that feels somewhat like home.

You step out into Miguel’s living room, carrying your record player like it’s gold. You move out of the way for Miguel to step out before he gestures for you to follow him, leading the way.

“Come on,” Miguel says softly. “Let’s get you settled in.”

You follow him up the stairs and into the hallway, carrying your items. Miguel pushes the door open to Gabriel’s old room, and you’re back once again to this bedroom. You can’t help but feel nostalgia as you enter the room. It’s been many, many months since you stayed the night ever since Miguel was injured. You quickly get reacquainted with the bedroom, finding comfort in it. There’s the bookshelf with some books about science and repairing and as always, everything is clean and organized.

“I washed the bedding earlier this week but we can wash it again tomorrow if you want,” Miguel says as he places the box carefully on the floor, not sure what’s exactly in it. “Or, if you prefer, we can bring your bedding and take this one off so you’re more comfortable with your own later. I don’t mind it at all. Whatever feels more comfortable to you,” Miguel says taking the bag you’re holding from you and placing it on a desk. “Just - I want you to feel comfortable and - at home,” Miguel says softly, quietly. “So, feel free to use the room however you need. If you want to decorate it while you’re here… You can.” Miguel stares at the bed for a few seconds, silently wondering if he’s being too much by telling you to decorate the bedroom if you wish to. He’s not even sure if you want to stay for more than a few days after how long it took him to convince you because for some reason you think you’re going to be a burden.

You smile warmly at Miguel as he turns his gaze from the bed to you. “Thank you. I really appreciate it, truly. I was - I want to apologize for earlier,” you start. You meet his gaze, hoping he can see the sincerity in your words. “I’m not uncomfortable being here. At all. I just don’t want to disturb your peace. Your space. I hope I didn’t come off as rude when I kept declining your offer. I really do appreciate you letting me stay here. It means so much to me. Thank you, Miguel.”

After a nod, Miguel offers you a small smile. “Always,” he answers, still meeting your gaze and holding it. Your words linger in his head, the sincerity in them reaching his heart. He knows you were not trying to be rude, but that you really believe, for some unknown and odd reason to him, that you’ll be disturbing him somehow. He’s especially caught up in the words you said just now - how you don’t want to disturb his peace and space - and thinks to himself about how this penthouse only truly feels peaceful and homey when you’re here.

That’s not to say that there isn’t peace in this space. There is, only it’s a different kind, an unpleasant one. It’s from the lack of other people in the living space. It’s a kind of peace that Miguel can only describe as lonely. It’s one he’s known for many years.

He thought he was used to this peace prior to his short life in Gabriella’s universe, but Miguel has learned, twice now, that he might never truly feel used to it. He’s still not used to it, even though he finds himself in it often on evenings when he’s back here from HQ. It’s not until recently that he has found a way to make that lonely peace fade a little, and that’s through the record player you gifted him for Christmas. It’s through the music from your universe and the scratching of the vinyl that Miguel manages to push away that unpleasant peace that gnaws at him.

On those evenings, the penthouse feels more welcoming to him, and not so cold and foreign. He never thought something so simple would help, but then again, Miguel never thought a piece of fabric with your scent on it and the sound of your breathing would help him get proper sleep either. Miguel has learned to accept it, to embrace it really, so he plays the record player and listens to the music from your universe, sometimes feeling like he’s not even home but at your apartment - at your universe - as he works. It’s how he tranquilizes that lonely peace in those hours, how he suppresses that gnawing feeling.

While the record player provides a temporary relief, Miguel has noted that the only time that feeling is truly gone is when you're there, at his penthouse.

You fill the penthouse with a warm and comfort that Miguel only used to feel when Gabriel lived with him and when Miguel lived in Gabriella’s universe. You bring a warm peace that he only felt with Gabriel and Gabriella, and now with you.

Miguel clears his throat, reminding himself that the two of you are still standing here in your apartment, and that you're still smiling warmly at him. He feels tempted to tell you all his thoughts from just now, but it’s still too soon, and his thoughts are so vulnerable.

“You won’t be disturbing me. I promise,” Miguel says softly, opting for that simple and straightforward answer as he looks away, trying to think of what else he can do to make you feel welcomed before he continues speaking. “Is there anything I can get you? Are you hungry or - actually, are you sure you’re not hurt? Lyla told me you fell through one of the floors. Does anything hurt?” he asks, frowning deeply as his eyes turn back to you, searching your face and suit for any indication of cuts, bruises, or blood.

You smile fondly at him as you recognize the concern on his face. “I feel alright. I didn’t get hurt when I fell. I just feel a little sore now,” you reply as you place your mask on the desk. You can still smell the smoke on yourself, which makes you wish for a shower now, but you have yet to return to your universe and make sure your help is no longer needed.

“I’ll get you some painkillers and water,” Miguel says as he watches you place your mask on the desk for now.

“I appreciate that. Thank you.” you say softly as you rub one of your eyes. You can feel the exhaustion begin to kick in so you grab your mask again. “I need to get going. I can feel my body begin to relax.”

“Have some water first,” Miguel says. “C’mon. It will freshen you up and then you can go back.”

You follow Miguel back downstairs to the kitchen where he fills a glass with water and offers some painkillers. He watches as you take them, relieve that he can look after you in a small way at least.

You finish the water and give him a grateful smile. “Thank you. I didn’t know I needed that until now.” You stretch slightly after you place the glass on the counter. “Alright, let me go back. I’ll be back in a few. Thank you for - everything,” you say softly as you hold on to your mask.

Miguel nods with a soft smile. “Always... Be careful. if you need anything - let me know, please.”

You nod gently. “Will do. I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, you head back to your universe, leaving Miguel in the kitchen.

Upon arriving to your universe, you head to your building. The smoke has died down by the time you reach it. The police cars and firetrucks are still there, securing the area. Some tenants linger, figuring out what to do now in the middle of the night. You assist them as best as possible and offer additional help to the firefighters, learning through the captain that the firefighter that you helped earlier sends his gratitude and will recover successfully from his injuries.

It’s not until an hour later that you return to Miguel’s universe. You step out into the living room, finding Miguel standing near the windows. He's staring out at the city in silence, still wearing his suit, as if he’s been ready just in case you needed his assistance.

Upon hearing your arrival, Miguel turns around and faces you. His eyes search your body once again, scanning for any injuries but he finds none.

You greet him with a small smile, definitively feeling tired now. You stare back at him as he looks at you, not surprised he’s still awake despite the time it is. “Sorry it took me a while, I got caught up.”

Miguel shakes his head. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it. You must be tired,” he says, his eyes searching your face.

“Yes, a little bit. It’s… wow. It’s now past six,” you say, realizing. You also realize you need to shower since you still smell like smoke. “I really need a shower.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be down here. There’s clean towels in the bathroom, but if you need anything, please let me know,” Miguel says quietly.

“Thank you! Are you - Are you not tired?” you ask, wondering if Miguel will get back to bed, at least to catch half an hour of sleep before he heads to HQ.

Miguel smiles softly and shakes his head. “No. I’m not tired, but you must be. Shower, and I’ll have something for you to eat. Then you can sleep.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. Breakfast, I mean. I’ll…” you trail off, realizing your routine is going to be different for a little while. You look at Miguel and smile sheepishly, which makes him grin in amusement.

“Your routine is going to feel off for a few days but - I believe you’ll fall back into it again, which reminds me…” Miguel starts, meeting your gaze. His grin dissipates, amusement placed to the side for the time being because what he wants to tell you is serious. “I told you earlier that I want you to feel at home. I mean it. I know it’s going to be a little different. You’re not only going to be in a different environment from your own but in an entirely different universe. If you decide to stay here, of course,” Miguel says, still unsure of your thoughts on this.

You were reluctant earlier, and for all he knows, you’re only interested in staying here for a few days, even if he hopes for the opposite. “I’ve offered for you to stay here for as long as you need. It can be a few days, a few weeks, a few months…” Miguel says trailing off, almost saying you could stay here for years if you wanted to, but he stops just in time before he actually says it because you might find it strange that he’d be okay with this.

In fact, Miguel realizes right now that he’d be perfectly happy with it, which makes his cheeks feel hot. He clears his throat gently. “What I’m trying to say is that - My home is your home,” Miguel continues, his eyes still meeting yours. His gaze has been unwavering the entire time, hoping that he drives home his offer and that you understand that you're not a burden. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be there for you and respect it, just know you’re welcomed here. Please don’t feel like you’ll be a burden as you said earlier. You’re not,” he says much more softly. “I don't know how long you'd like to stay here. You don’t have to decide that now in this instant, but I do want you to know that whether you stay a day or months, you can use the penthouse however you want to. If you want to read in the living room like you always do back in your universe, or if you want to randomly bake cookies at 10am or 9pm, you can. If you want to use one of the offices, you’re more than welcomed to. Same as the laundry room -” Miguel pauses, thinking that maybe he’s overdoing it. He scratches his neck softly, his eyes moving away for a few seconds before they return to you. “I just want you to know that you don’t need to be limiting yourself or, feel like you need permission, or something like that. In any way. My home is your home.”

You nod gently, feeling appreciation and gratitude towards Miguel. There’s also tenderness swirling in your mixture of feelings. Here he is telling you his home is your home.

“And also - I know,” Miguel says with a small shrug and an apologetic smile, but he has been thinking about all of these things while you've been away. And, Miguel knows you very well. “You don’t have to worry about groceries or anything like that. Unless it’s something that can only be acquired from your universe, then yes, but otherwise, don’t worry about it, okay?” Miguel says, staring intently at you with his hands on his hips now.

“About bills-” you start.

“Nor about paying bills. Or rent,” Miguel says lifting his hand, and pointing at nothing in particular, a signal that he had that on his mind as well. Miguel mentally runs through his list of points. While he waited for updates from Lyla about you, he thought of these details. He thought about how your daily routine will feel off for a few days and how you’ll probably want to pay for staying here. Miguel stares at you, noticing you want to debate this. “Please. I know that if it was me, you’d do the same,” Miguel adds softly, hoping to make you see his side. His words, Miguel notices, seem to hit home because he sees the shift in your eyes.

You nod once more and sigh softly. You shake your head at him, a small smile forming on your face. The exhaustion is hitting but you still find it in yourself to smile to him. “You know me - too well,” you say quietly because his words have struck home. Miguel is absolutely right. If it was him in your situation, you’d be telling him the exact same things down from asking him not to worry about bills nor groceries, and about making himself at home at your apartment. You’d be trying to be as helpful as possible, to comfort him as much as you can. A part of you still wants to discuss some of these points, but you decide to leave it for later.

Miguel’s eyes lit up as he sees your small, tired but nonetheless sweet smile. He feels like he has finally made his point after all his talking with just a few words. Miguel returns the smile. “I’ll be making breakfast while you shower. If you need anything - at all - just tell Lyla and she’ll let me know. Don’t worry about anything else for now,” Miguel says and nods to the stairs, as if silently asking you to go on.

You nod and give Miguel a playful grin that fills his chest with warmth.

“Alright, I’m going to go shower. I’m probably stinking up your penthouse like smoke,” you say, nodding to the stairs. “Before I go though - I just want to thank you for everything, Miguel. I truly appreciate it,” you utter softly, your tone filled with sincerity and gratitude.

Miguel nods gently, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Always.”

You smile back at him and nod.

“Go on. I’ll be down here. Let me know if you need something, alright?”

“I will, thank you,” you reply softly, still smiling at him. You give him a nod, and with that you, you head upstairs.

You enter Gabriel’s bedroom, finding your belongings more organized than you left them. You also notice that Miguel has added another blanket, a fuzzy one.

You gather everything you need for your shower, including a change of clothes. Before you exit the bedroom, you pause at the door and look out the window. The sun is already making its way up in Nueva York. You grin softly before you head to the bathroom to shower at last. You shower quickly and do everything you need to after your shower, dressing into comfortable clothes. You hope not to sleep all day but you recognize your body is tired and needs to rest for a bit. Besides, you have a feeling that Miguel might get on to you if you don’t, which you find endearing.

You head back downstairs once you’re done, feeling clean and fresh. You mentally tell yourself to wash your suit once you wake up. It’s one of the many things you’ll need to do. You start thinking about setting up your room for the time being and about the little things you’ll have to do back home, like taking out the food from the fridge that will go bad if it hasn’t already, since you’re certain the fire was an electrical one considering there was no power when you were evacuating civilians out of the building. There’s also your laundry, and other small things of the sort to think about. You silently think about creating a list as you finally reach the kitchen.

Miguel turns at the sound of your footsteps. He notices the look on your face, the one you get when you’re lost in thought, and he’s sure you’re already thinking about the many things you wish to do.

“We’ll get things sorted out,” Miguel says softly as you take a seat at the counter at last. He notices the little sigh that escapes past your lips and the way you slightly lean on the counter to get some relief. He thinks about how you’ve been on your feet since you woke up; swinging, crawling, and carrying people nonstop. The closest you got to a break was when you took the painkillers and drank water.

Miguel is sure that now that you’ve showered and you’ve sat down, that all your aches and exhaustion will truly begin to surface. “Eat some breakfast. Rest. And then, we can do everything that needs to be done, alright?” he adds, as he places two glasses in front of you. One with orange juice and the other with water, opting not to offer you coffee right now so you'll rest properly.

You nod and give him a tired smile. “Alright. Thank you, truly,” you say quietly as you grab the glass with water since your mouth feel a little dry. You chug it down gently, finding relief, before you set it back down.

Miguel takes the glass and refills it for you before placing it back and checking on the stove. He stirs the food he's cooking, making it the only noise that fills the space. You don’t know what Miguel is cooking, but whatever it is, it smells fantastic and makes your mouth water. You drink more water as Miguel cooks, his back to you. You close your eyes for a bit, feeling the need to close them.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

You open your eyes and find Lyla. She floats near your face with a concerned look on her face, so you offer her a smile. “I’m alright, thank you. What about you?”

“I’m well, thanks. Glad to hear you’re okay,” Lyla replies with a little grin, though her eyes still show concern. “You did well.”

“Thank you. Also… thank you for respecting my wish and not telling Miguel,” you quietly tell Lyla though you’re sure Miguel is not even listening as he opens cabinets to get some items out.

“You got it, boss. I would’ve told him if I saw that you were in danger but,” Lyla pauses with a proud smile. “You were killing it. Miguel and I were just watching you in awe.”

“Breakfast is about to be ready,” Miguel says from the stove.

Lyla and you both turn to Miguel and share a little grin.

“Well, you did amazing but you really need to rest now. I agree with Miguel on this one,” Lyla says. “So rest up. Please.”

You nod with a little smile.

“Hm, didn’t know she had that term in her vocabulary,” Miguel comments as he places a plate with food in front of you.

“I do, I just don’t use it for you. Only with special members,” Lyla says with a shrug, which reminds Miguel of something Lyla said a while back. She mentioned you are one of her top five favorite members. Miguel silently wonders once again what your spot is, and who are the other four members. He has a feeling Spider-Plushie, Spider-Cat, Spider-Wolf, or Spider-Rex are up there with you.

He clears his mind and gives you utensils along with napkins, making sure you have everything so you can eat properly. Lyla has already disappeared.

“Thank you. My mouth is watering,” you tell Miguel as you look at the food.

“Go ahead and start eating. Your body needs it to recover,” Miguel says gently, gesturing for you to eat.

You take a bite and involuntarily close your eyes at the flavor. You would happily pass away right now with this amazing food.

Miguel watches your reaction, smirking softly at the sight and feeling pleased. He thought by now he would be used to it but each time, without failure, the sight of you smiling and enjoying the food makes him joyous. It’s so satisfying for some reason.

“Are you not eating?” you ask, looking at him now with wonder in your eyes.

The question brings him back to the moment and he nods. “Yes. Yes, I am,” he replies, offering you a little smile before he turns around to fix himself a plate. For a moment he forgot about himself, being more concerned with you eating first. He serves himself breakfast before joining you at the counter, taking the seat he always does. He silently thinks about how you both always sit on the same chairs, as if you were assigned to them. He smiles at this thought before he turns to look at you, finding you enjoying your food.

His face softens at the sight, and he’s suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling he’s had ever since you first stepped foot into his home this morning, and one that has stayed with him. He feels the need to stay here with you, to work from home so he can keep an eye out for you while you rest. He doesn’t want to tell you this though. Miguel knows you well and is certain that you’d try to work, or even go to HQ to avoid “disrupting” his routine if he tells you about his plan. He takes his utensil, getting ready to eat as he thinks about it. He’ll go to HQ and stick around for an hour before he comes back for the rest of the day, but that’s a secret, for now.

He takes a bite of food, appreciating the flavor as he silently plans. He’ll be back in an hour and easily ask Jess or Peter if they can fill in for today’s planned missions. If there’s any missions regarding anomalies, he’s sure other members can handle such missions. Miguel pauses as he thinks of other members, thinking of your friends.

“The others might wonder where you are. Do you want me to tell them what happened, and that you’re here?” Miguel asks gently. “Or, do you prefer to let them know yourself?”

You put down your glass and think. You haven’t even thought about them, feeling too exhausted. “Do you mind telling them?”

“I don’t. I can tell them once I get to HQ. I can tell them that they can come see you once you’re up for it, if you’d like,” Miguel says after he cleans his mouth. “Which is another thing I forgot to mention earlier. I know they visit you often back at your universe, so they can come here if you’d like.”

You shake your head slightly. “Thank you but that’s alright. You’re been far too generous already.”

Miguel frowns softly. “I mean it. I wouldn’t mind it, but if you prefer not to, that’s your choice. Just know that I’m fine with it. As I said earlier - my home is your home,” Miguel says picking up his own glass and taking a drink.

You smile at the offer but you don’t want to take advantage of Miguel’s kindness. Besides, you know you can always visit your friends, or arrange to meet up at HQ. You find it sweet though, the fact that Miguel has offered his home to you, and that he has said his home is your home. Not once but three times now.

The two of you eat in silence, enjoying both the food and each other’s company. Miguel keeps the conversation short, as he knows you must be exhausted. When the two of you are done and Miguel notices you standing up and retrieving your dishes, Miguel moves quickly. He takes the dishes from you gently, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I got it. Go ahead and rest. Really,” he says as you start to protest. He sees your little frown, and Miguel wonders if this is what you feel like when you want to help him and he protests because he believes that you’ve done too much for him already. He wonders if you feel frustration when he declines politely the way you are now when all he wishes to do is look after you. He sighs softly and places your dishes on top of his before he turns to you. “I’ll be at HQ but if you need anything - at all - please let me know. And again, please make yourself at home. Also, don’t worry about anything else for right now. We’ll sort it out but you need to rest for now, okay?” he says softly, eyes meeting yours.

You nod, noticing the look on Miguel’s face. Concern is written all over it. For a few seconds you wish you weren’t making him this concerned before your mind moves on to the fact that he said “we” when referring to tasks you’ll need to get done, as in the two of you will figure things out together. It’s the second time he’s said it and his words comfort you, deeply. You blindly thought your building would never go through a situation like this one and even less that you’d go through it without Peter. Sure, you were both prepared because that was the responsible thing to do, but you never thought you’d actually have to retrieve the file organizer for such a circumstance - that you’d be packing without Peter. You’re overwhelmed suddenly with the thought that you would’ve been alone for all of this if it wasn’t for Miguel. If you weren’t in the Spider Society, this morning would’ve been very different. You swallow the knot that’s forming in your throat and nod again, feeling emotional and so exhausted. “Okay, I will. I guess - I’ll be here,” you reply quietly, feeling like all your exhaustion is hitting you at once now that you’ve showered, eaten, and have relaxed. The adrenaline has finally worn off, and now you’re all emotion and exhaustion.

“Good,” Miguel replies gently, offering you a small smile. “I’ll let the others know you’re here, so they’re not too worried about you.”

You nod, biting your lower lip subtly and looking away for a few seconds. “Alright, be careful, please.”

Miguel blinks softly at the words, caught by surprise. He nods regardless and offers you a small but reassuring smile. “I will.”

With that, you nod and turn around. You walk towards the living room to head upstairs but pause at the doorway - having the need to say more.

Miguel stands up once he sees you pause. He wonders if something’s wrong. Perhaps you didn’t notice you had injuries earlier but now you’re feeling them, or maybe you’re so tired you’re disoriented. He takes three steps forward before you turn around and meet his gaze.

“Miguel?”

“Yes?” he responds softly, worry etched on his face.

“I think - I’m really tired. My exhaustion is hitting at last and that’s probably why I really want to tell you something I usually wouldn’t.”

Miguel’s eyebrows rises slowly, wondering.

“I truly appreciate everything you’ve done. I don’t think I will ever be able to thank you enough even if I said it a million times but it means so much to me,” you start. “You showing up and respecting my decision for no backup, but sticking around just in case. Helping me with my belongings and of course, offering me to stay here and trying to make me feel at home,” you add with a wavering voice. “It means so much to me and I wish -” you swallow gently, definitely feeling exhaustion take its toll on you, making it harder for you to hold back from expressing sentiments you’d usually hold close to your heart with Miguel. The words roll out of your mouth quickly and your voice quivers as if you were making a dire confession. “I wish I could give you a hug - a really tight one - just to emphasize with more than words - how much it means to me.” You pause for a second before finishing. “And I should go to sleep before I keep saying things. I hope that didn’t make you uncomfortable, and if it did, I’m really sorry.”

You nod quickly before walking away, not wanting to make Miguel feel more uncomfortable than he probably already is by lingering around. You leave Miguel behind, who watches you leave with a soft expression on his face. His cheeks are flushed and his hands form into soft fists as he stands alone now.

He continues to stare through the doorway, only seeing part of his living room now, and wonders… What would it be like? What would it be like to let you do exactly what you wish to do? What would it feel like to be hugged again? To feel warm arms wrapped around him? And what if he hugged you back?

Miguel sighs deeply as he leans on the counter before he gently hits the countertop with his fist.

What if?

Miguel’s mind is clouded with your words, with the possibility. He has been thinking about it for weeks now - two months, really. He has been thinking about it ever since Thanksgiving when the two of you, at his request, invited your friends over because there was so much food even after you both ate. He was caught up with the younger members, the spiderlings as you call them, a nickname that Miguel finds endearing and that he has found himself using mentally - even catching himself almost saying it verbally at times. The spiderlings were asking him questions about his sound system and he ended up showing them other devices from his universe. He remembers looking over from the living room to the kitchen and dining area and finding you leaning your head on Peter B.’s arm, so at ease.

For some reason, ever since that night, Miguel has been thinking about it more. About how much more open you are to physical touch. He notices it more these days. From the little gestures like high-fives to the big gestures, like on New Year’s Eve just a few weeks ago when Noir and Spider-Ham were talking to him and he realized you were suddenly gone from his side. He ended up finding you talking with Peter B.. Miguel relaxes his fists as he remembers, vividly, Peter’s arm around your shoulder and once again, how comfortable you were. The sight only added more fuel to his thoughts about physical touch.

Miguel looks at his pinky. There has been some physical touch. Some of it has been unintentional, of course. Miguel is not opposed to physical touch when it’s necessary, like on missions. He picks up civilians, carries them. When spider-people are in danger and need a hand, he lends one but on his day to day life, his personal life - Miguel has been limited. All contact in these situations involve having his suit on, so no skin to skin contact is made. Ever since losing Gabriella, the only person he has touched - with his bare hands and nothing in between - has been you with the pinky squeezes. He also remembers holding Mayday the day you were babysitting her but that’s it.

It’s just you and the pinky squeezes. The first time he did it, he didn’t even plan on it. It happened. All he knows is that his pinky was suddenly wrapped around yours, and he gave a little squeeze. Now there’s been a few other times, the last one being on New Year’s Eve. Everyone was hugging and welcoming the new year, and Miguel thought - after seeing all your friends hug you - that he’d try and give you a “hug” in his own way. It was also his way to comfort you a little bit after you cried, which made his heart ache even if you were crying “happy” tears as you said to him that night.

Besides the pinky squeezes, that’s all there has been, except for the first time he touched you. Miguel sighs as he realizes it will soon be two years since that day, making him wonder where the time has gone. He remembers it vividly, however, how he pressed his hand to your forehead almost two years ago to see if you had a running fever. He didn’t even think about it in the moment. Before he knew it, his bare hand was pressed to your skin and it was the first time since Gabriella that Miguel had touched anyone skin to skin.

Your words have Miguel standing here now, in his kitchen, contemplating. That’s not all though. He feels his heart speed up at the fact that you said you wished you could hug him, that you were telling him something you normally wouldn’t tell him and it was this. It means you’ve wished to hug him before. Miguel silently wonders how many times have you wished for this? He’s seen the way your hands sometimes reach for him but stop halfway, remembering his boundaries but how many times have you wanted more than pat his hand or arm? How many times have you wished to embrace him?

Miguel wonders again - what would it feel like to have the privilege of being hugged by you? What if he hugged you back, and embraced your warmth?

“Dios,” Miguel whispers as he stares down at his hands. He can feel a tingling, almost as if his own hands are asking - begging - him to go and feel.

He pushes himself off the counter and walks off, heading upstairs. His steps are quick but quiet to avoid disturbing you, and in truth, Miguel doesn’t know what he’s doing, not even when he reaches Gabriel’s bedroom door and he finds it ajar. He stands still and listens, his ears filled instantly with your soft breathing.

Miguel pushes the door open softly and sure enough there you are. You lay on the bed, under warm covers. The blanket reaches your collarbone area, keeping you warm. He steps in quietly, noticing the sunlight filtering through the windows and just before he calls for her, Lyla appears and gestures to the windows. Miguel nods gently as he watches his AI assistant give the command for the holographic blinds to lower. He watches for a few seconds as they’re lowered before he lifts his hand, giving a silent command to stop when they’re two thirds of the way closed as he doesn’t want you to wake up in full darkness.

He nods at Lyla who gives him a thumbs up and disappears, sensing that she needs to head out. Miguel watches you sleep. Your face is relaxed and there’s a soft look on your face. You’re, as always, hugging a pillow. Your breathing is soft and even - a sound that Miguel is far too well acquainted with, for this sound is his lullaby.

His hands still itch and he wonders, if you were awake, would he have done it? Would he have walked up to you and hugged you? Or would he have told you that you could hug him, and then he’d embrace you? Miguel shakes his head. There’s no use in thinking about it now. You’re asleep. Still… Miguel steps closer and extends his arm towards you. His index finger is inches away from your cheek.

Miguel retrieves his arm and drops it, telling himself you’re asleep and that it would be inappropriate to touch you, even if it’s only your face. He sighs quietly, looking around the room and making sure everything is alright. He wants to ensure that you’re safe and sound, one last time. Earlier when he came to place the blanket and organized your belongings a little better, he made sure that all the furniture was in good standing. He even made sure the floating shelves were secured to avoid any sort of injury, or to avoid your belongings falling.

Satisfied, Miguel glances back at you one more time. You’re fast asleep, resting after the exhausting early morning you had. He walks out of the bedroom, leaving the door the way you left it and returns back downstairs to make sure everything is turned off at the kitchen.

At last, Miguel heads to HQ, feeling like he’s missing something.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

Miguel closes a tab just as he hears people talking. He’d usually narrow his eyes in annoyance that people walked in unannounced - even if this is the norm from almost everyone - but today he requested this group specifically. He turns around as he hears the voices grow louder, and already, he can hear your name being mentioned.

“I sent her a message earlier to ask if she wanted a bagel. She seems to be offline,” he hears Gwen say.

“Offline? She’s never offline,” Miles replies, his tone uncertain about the situation.

“Maybe she needed a little break but… I think she would’ve told us she was doing that,” Peter B. adds with furrowed eyebrows. His gears already turning as he holds Mayday.

“That’s because I disabled her gizmo’s notifications,” Miguel says, immediately catching everyone’s attention.

“Is Y/N okay?” Pav asks, looking at Miguel with concern.

Miguel nods, his face softening at the sight of your concerned friends, especially from the younger members, the spiderlings. “She’s okay. She’s safe. Just - exhausted,” Miguel says to reassure your friends about your safety before he tells them about the fire. Your friends listen intently, concern clear on their faces as Miguel explains the situation, emphasizing that you’re safe and uninjured. “She’s here.”

“Here at HQ?” Noir asks.

Miguel shakes his head. “No. Not here at HQ. She’s here in Nueva York, but she’s staying at my place. I don’t know… For how long,” Miguel says pausing. He doesn’t know what your plans are. Will you be staying there for however is necessary, or will you try to go somewhere else? He tells himself that’s a question for later, for now all that matters is that you recover and rest. “But, she wanted to let you know that she’s okay. She has no injuries, thankfully. Her floor was spared from the fire, and we can only hope that the building remains stable,” Miguel continues. “I’m not sure that she’ll be here today. I think she should rest but, just know she’s safe.”

“Man,” Peter B. says almost in disbelief, hugging Mayday closer. “Why didn’t she ask for backup?”

Miguel turns to Peter B., agreeing more than ever on something with him. “She didn’t want backup. She asked Lyla not to notify anyone, but I’m sure you all know that she - she’s always -” Miguel pauses, feeling the stares from the members. “She’s always diligent. Always cautious. She’s - ” Miguel waves a hand around as if telling the members that they should know this. The members watch him, fighting the urge to smile because it’s not every day that Miguel O’Hara gives compliments. “She’s amazing, so she did well on her own,” Miguel finally manages to say. “She’s just exhausted. If you wish to tell her something, I’ll set it up so that the notifications don’t disturb her sleep, or you can wait till later in the day and maybe do a live call.”

Your friends nod, feeling sad that you’re going through this but they’re relieved that you’re uninjured and if all goes well, your apartment should be fine.

“What if the building becomes unstable and her belongings are all lost?” Margo asks.

Miguel turns to Margo, his eyes moving to everyone. His eyes stop on Jess, who raises one eyebrow at him, wondering, too. He nods at your friends.

“I offered to store her belongings here but I’ll ask her again.”

“We can help her move her items if she agrees,” Pav replies.

Miguel looks around, watching everyone nod at Pav’s statement. He feels comforted by the fact that your friends are so supportive.

“I’ll let her know,” Miguel responds gently.

He watches as your friends begin to talk, sharing ideas of things they want to do to be supportive. Miguel stares at them as they walk out, planning. He turns to Jess and Peter B. who stick around.

“I’m glad you guys stuck around. I wanted to ask you something,” Miguel starts, facing them.

“We’ll take care of it,” Jess responds.

“What?” Miguel replies, frowning.

“She said we’ll take care of it,” Peter B. says with a knowing smirk.

Miguel glances between the two of them.

“You’ll do your thing for about an hour and then go home, right? That’s what you’re doing.”

Miguel turns to Jess, still frowning.

“We got it, Miguel. You don’t have to worry. We’ve done it before, remember? About a year ago when you were injured. You go and, you know,” Peter say as he plays with Mayday’s hand, who looks up at him and nods her head, as if she, too is telling him to go.

Miguel loses the frown and nods, having no way to deny that they figured out his plan.

“Right. So you guys will be okay?” Miguel asks.

“Yes,” Jess replies. “You go and check on her. Give us the hour before you head out though. I’d like to put something together for her, and as you heard, the other members want to do something. That way you can take it to her.”

“I’ll let everyone know that we have about an hour,” Peter says nodding at Jess.

“Alright. I’ll be working on some things here,” Miguel replies gazing at the two members. “Thank you,” he adds, sharing a look with them.

“No problem,” Jess responds.

“Happy to help. We just want Y/N to be okay and feel supported. She loves her apartment so much, I’m glad the fire didn’t reach her floor,” Peter says.

“Me, too,” Miguel answers softly, turning away to begin working on his screens.

Jess and Peter B., unbeknownst to Miguel, share a knowing look before they head out.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

An hour later, Miguel closes out from his tabs, ready to head out. He would be lying if he said that he hasn’t been thinking about you or that he’s been asking Lyla to check on you while he’s away. It’s been reassuring to have her check on you, at least.

Miguel quickly gathers different items that he needs to take with him, since he’s decided that he’ll be working from home for the rest of the day and then, he waits on his platform. Jess and Peter told the others he’ll be heading out to check on you and that he might not come back, even though they both know he’s not coming back today for sure. He looks up just as your friends come into view, carrying bags with them.

He receives bag after bag, nodding at your friends as they share tidbits about the items they bought you. Miguel finds it endearing, of course. His lips twitch, wanting to curl into a smile as the younger members mention buying your favorite snacks from their universe.

“I’ll give her everything when she wakes up,” Miguel promises, finding common ground with your friends.

Your group of friends thank him but before they head out, Miguel remembers something. “I’ve enabled her notifications again, only for you guys, so if you wish to send her something, it’ll go through.”

Your friends nod happily at the news and as Miguel prepares to leave, he can hear their giddy voices about being able to send you messages again. He shakes his head and smiles softly before he heads out, ready to check on you.

It doesn’t take long for Miguel to reach his home. He finds himself quickly there and after placing all the bags your friends sent on the kitchen counter, Miguel heads upstairs to check on you. He finds you in bed, still sleeping. You’ve changed sides but you’re still holding on to your pillow. The sight satisfies him. He’s relieved that you’re resting and that you seem so peaceful after everything.

Miguel heads back to his bedroom and takes a shower since he didn’t take one before leaving for HQ and dresses in comfortable clothes. His plan is to stick around the penthouse for the day and help you get settled in. He also wants to look around the penthouse and make sure there’s space for you to set your items if you wish to, since all Miguel wants is for you to feel at home.

After checking the entire place for any necessary changes, Miguel starts thinking about lunch. He debates between ordering takeout or cooking something and ultimately decides to cook, believing that a homemade meal will be more appreciated. He thinks about what he should cook and eventually decides on a few dishes, knowing he has the items necessary before he checks on your universe. He knows you always do a morning patrol so he has Lyla check and make sure there’s no emergencies. He also checks on your building to make sure that it’s still standing. He sighs in relief when he sees that it is through his screens at home. He reminds himself to offer to bring the rest of your belongings again once you wake up since even your other friends offered, meaning everyone is on board.

Miguel works on other things throughout the morning, reading data from other universes - making sure the fate of the multiverse isn’t in jeopardy but every thirty minutes or so, he asks Lyla to check on you since he doesn’t want to end up waking you by accident with him checking on you physically. Thankfully, Lyla reports that you’re well and still sleeping peacefully.

It’s not until almost noon that you wake up. You feel lost for a few seconds, not realizing where you are until you remember that you’re in Miguel’s penthouse after what happened this morning. You sigh heavily and sit up, pushing the covers off you and stretching. Your muscles feel sore but stretching eases them so you spend a few minutes doing this until you feel slightly better. You get out of bed and head to the bathroom to use it before you return to the bedroom to change out of your current clothes. You change into comfortable clothes yet they help you wake up and get into the errand mindset. You have some things you wish to do today, at least the high priority ones.

Feeling a bit more together, you head downstairs to get some water since you’re feeling thirsty but pause when you hear soft music. You frown slightly, wondering if you’re just imagining it since you’re certain that Miguel is at HQ but when you reach the bottom of the stairs and find yourself in the living room, you hear it clearly. Miguel’s record player that you gifted him for Christmas about a month ago is playing. You stand there for a few seconds, appreciating the music as it’s Billie Holiday’s “Blue Moon” - one of your favorite songs of hers.

“And then they suddenly appeared before me, the only one my arms will ever hold”

“You’re awake.”

You turn, surprised. ��Miguel.”

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he walks further into the living room. His eyes scan your face subtly, searching for any sign of trouble or illness, however, his mind quickly returns to your words from this morning. Thinking about that leads him to remember his internal debate about opening more to physical touch and how he almost touched your cheek in your slumber, causing his cheeks to feel warm suddenly.

“Better. So much better,” you reply honestly, giving him a small smile. You don’t seem to remember what you said, at least not now. “My muscles feel a little sore but, I feel rested. Thank you for asking. For everything, truly,” you add sincerely, which triggers your memory suddenly. You freeze for a few seconds as you remember, feeling your cheeks turn hot with embarrassment, so you avert your gaze from Miguel’s. “I… I just remembered what I said this morning and,” you pause, scratching your neck gently, nervously. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with what I said. The words were just - rolling off my mouth.”

Miguel stands about twelve feet away from you, noticing the way you avert your gaze from him, the way you nervously scratch your neck, and how embarrassed you seem suddenly. He feels ternura rush through him as he stares at you. It’s the opposite of what you think you’ve made him feel, so he steps closer, wanting to assure you.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, so please don’t stress about it. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about either. I understand you were exhausted, it’s only reasonable, and besides…” Miguel trails off, and now he’s the one scratching his neck nervously at what he’s going to say. He’s never actually talked about it, not even with Jess who seems to have been the one who told you about it some time ago - about him not being able to do physical touch. “You know the reason why I can’t but… I want you to know something.”

You turn to face him, your eyes meeting his. You both stare at each other with a soft, tender expression.

“I feel honored that you - you want to do that,” Miguel says quietly, holding your gaze. “That I’m somehow worthy of you wanting to - embrace.” Miguel pauses and looks away for a few seconds. “You know that I’m trying,” he continues, his eyes meeting yours again. He lifts his hand, his pinky finger being the only finger that’s straighten up. “I know it’s nothing compared to an actual embrace but I’m working on it.”

You nod gently, smiling warmly at him. This is the first time Miguel has ever brought up the pinky squeezes or physical touch for that matter. You’ve known for some time now that his pinky squeezes are intentional but hearing Miguel audibly admit that they are makes your heart flutter with happiness.

Miguel gives you a small smile, still holding his pinky finger up. He remembers this morning and how he was feeling - how he went upstairs, not knowing what he would’ve done if you had been awake.

You slowly lift your hand, your pinky finger out, returning the gesture from a far.

Miguel sees it, of course, and with his mind on this morning’s events, he steps closer before pausing. He stays still for a few seconds before he takes several more steps until he’s just about three feet away from you - your pinkies within reach now.

You watch him gently, with curious eyes. So far, Miguel has always found some kind of loop, an excuse to make the gesture seem unintentional. There’s always an object exchanged between the two of you that allows the pinky squeeze to happen, to make it seem like the gesture wasn’t planned.

Miguel looks down at your pinky and then his. Your hands are empty, and so are his. He has no way to excuse his gesture, and he’s not sure that he wants one anymore. He moves his hand closer, his pinky just inches from yours. He looks at you, his beautiful red eyes meeting yours and you see it clearly. A question. Is it okay?

You nod, still smiling softly at him but keeping your hand still. You know the significance of this moment, how big of a step this is for Miguel in his journey to move forward. You stand still, giving Miguel time to decide if he really wants to do this. You’ve never pushed his boundaries, and you have no intentions of doing that now, or ever. You’ll always be patient and respectful of him, no matter what.

Knowing this, Miguel slowly moves his pinky towards yours. He feels comfortable and unhurried as you stand there, letting him decide if he wants to proceed.

And he does.

Miguel’s pinky touches yours at last, making your fingers look like an “X” for a second before Miguel wraps his finger around yours gently.

You remain still, feeling Miguel’s warm finger wrap around yours. You can see the size difference - the way the tip of his finger is enough to wrap around yours. His finger feels soft and you feel a little overwhelmed with the fact that this is happening, that Miguel is really doing this. Just when you’re growing used to this feeling, you see and feel Miguel’s pinky give yours a gentle squeeze. You lift your gaze from your united pinkies to his face, finding him staring at your fingers, too. There’s a light blush grazing his cheeks and when his gaze meets yours, you can see vulnerability and yet, happiness, too.

Miguel holds your gaze, and smiles softly at you. He's done it. It's a small step but a big one regardless.

You don't squeeze his pinky back but slightly brush your finger against his, a sensation that Miguel finds comforting. You stay like this for a minute, or maybe two until your gizmo goes off. The sound startles the two of you but your pinkies remain locked with each other for a few more seconds before you feel Miguel’s pinky release yours gently, leading to both of you dropping your arms down at your sides. You both feel the loss of touch but of course, neither of you mention it.

“That’s probably your other friends. They were really worried about you when I told them what happened,” Miguel says gazing at you. “They sent you gifts - they’re in the kitchen, which reminds me, I have lunch ready if you’re hungry.”

Miguel gestures to the kitchen just as your hunger hits you. You grin sheepishly at him and nod. “I’m actually starving… Thank you, Miguel,” you tell him sincerely, feeling grateful not only for offering lunch but for everything else, especially what he opened himself to do just now. You offer him a smile, warm and sweet, as you think about this new step he has taken. You also hang on to the fact that he said your “other” friends, indirectly calling himself your friend.

“Always,” Miguel replies softly, his gaze still meeting yours as he’s overcome with a great happiness. He has been trying for months, ever since his near death experience back in the spring. He briefly realizes soon it’ll be a year since that happened, which is crazy to him - how fast the months have gone by. However, he’s relieved by the fact that he has stuck to his promise. He said he’d be trying, and he has. His steps may be small and slow, but they’re steps nonetheless, and they’re steps that he might have not taken if it wasn’t for you and that incident. “C’mon,” he says, gesturing for you to follow him. “I cooked something I think you’ll love.”

You follow Miguel to the kitchen, spotting bags on the counter. You figure those are the things that your friends sent, but decide to look at them later. For now, you take a seat as Miguel gestures for you to do so, and realize what he made.

“Flautas,” Miguel says as he carefully but quickly serves you a plate with flautas. The toppings are already set out since Miguel placed them right before he was about to go and check on you. After placing your plate down, Miguel retrieves glasses before he pours you a glass of agua de Jamaica, freshly made.

You watch in appreciation at how extra attentive Miguel is right now. He is always attentive but somehow, he’s even more so today. You thank him quietly and offer Miguel a smile, who is trying to make sure that you have everything you need.

“Always,” Miguel replies, taking notice of your smile. This morning you were giving him smiles and while they were warm and welcoming as always, he could see they were small and exhausted smiles. It was visible to Miguel that the fire took a toll on you, both physically and emotionally. Now, your smile is the same as always. It’s warm, welcoming, and bright. It’s lively, and the difference makes Miguel happy and relieved. He reciprocates with a soft smile, his gaze warm. “Do you feel rested?”

“I do, thank you. For the food and for- ,” you pause, smiling. “For everything.” You give Miguel a little nod, deciding to keep it simple and not go off like you did earlier. “I think I passed out as soon as I laid down,” you say, chuckling a little. “I don’t remember even falling asleep.”

Miguel grins softly, though his mind turns to this morning when he went into your bedroom. He feels embarrassed thinking about how he almost brushed his finger over your cheek as you slept peacefully. He clears his throat, trying to put that thought away. “I’m glad that you feel rested, and I’m not surprised you fell asleep so fast. You helped evacuate so many people, including that firefighter who was injured. It was a lot and you were - well, you were amazing,” Miguel says gently, remembering that you were a bit sensitive when he said that earlier. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable with his words but he also cannot seem to stop himself from telling you the truth.

You smile at him, your cheeks growing warm as Miguel tells you, once again, that you were amazing. You look away a bit shyly, something that Miguel notices. It’s not often that he sees you like this, and he can’t help but find it sweet.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me. I was just - really hoping no one was hurt. Thankfully there were no tenants injured, at least not seriously. Some of them had a few bruises from them rushing to get out, but there were no casualties.” You pause, thinking about your building. “My building… I hope it’s still standing, and hope it remains like that.”

“It’s still standing,” Miguel quickly says to reassure you. “I’ve been checking on it.”

You sigh in relief. “That’s good, that’s… I’m so relieved. I need to go and check on the area, see what’s happening. I think it was an electrical fire,” you say before you start adding toppings to your plate, and taking a gentle bite.

Miguel’s eyebrows shoot up as he hears this. He hasn’t thought about the cause of the fire, but now that you’ve mention your suspicion, he can’t help but think about the condition of your building. He recalls the time he fixed some things in your kitchen, asking you about those little details. Your building is on the older side, and now that you’ve mentioned it possibly being an electrical fire - it makes Miguel wonder if the building is even up to standards on the electrical aspect. The possibility that it’s not, worries Miguel.

“What did you notice?” he asks.

You wipe your mouth before telling Miguel about the notice your landlord gave out, and the young women you ran into on New Year’s Eve and their short conversation, to how the fire seems to have started on their floor.

“Of course, I’m not saying it was them but… It does lead me to believe that maybe because of the holidays there were other tenants who overloaded the circuits. I’m not really knowledgeable on this but you know,” you say softly and Miguel nods. “That’s why I think it was an electrical fire. I wonder how soon they can figure it out. I don’t think it was arson, but I guess I’m just being wishful.”

Miguel nods and considers your words. “Maybe it was an electrical fire.” He frowns softly to himself as he pours some agua de Jamaica for himself. “Perhaps they have an idea by now of what happened.”

“I hope so. I would like to know.”

“Well… how about we eat and then we can head over there?”

“I would appreciate it, but I don’t want to disrupt your day. You probably have so many things to do at HQ.”

Miguel takes a seat next you, placing his plate in front of him. “Don’t worry about it. Jess is there and so is Peter. If there’s an emergency, they’ll let me know. Everything else I can keep track of from here, and I’ve taken care of a lot of tasks already throughout the morning.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking at him, unsure. The last thing you want to do is disrupt his day when you know how important the fate of the multiverse is to him.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Miguel replies with a small grin.

The two of you eat and listen to music while Miguel tells you about your friends, and how worried they were about you. You smile all the while, feeling grateful for such amazing friends. After finishing eating, Miguel begins cleaning the kitchen, telling you not to worry about helping him even when you offer. So, you find yourself sitting at the kitchen counter with a piece of paper and a pen, jotting down everything you need to do while Miguel quietly cleans. You make a list quickly, mentally walking through your apartment and remembering what needs to be taken care of immediately.

Once you finish creating your list, you head upstairs and change into dark clothes because you remember that your suit is dirty from the morning and you have yet to wash it. To hide your face, you wear a hoodie. When you head back downstairs, Miguel looks at you with a bit of surprise before he remembers your suit.

“Your suit,” he says. “I forgot to tell you that we could put it to wash. It would’ve been ready by now if I had remembered.”

“It’s alright, please don’t worry about it. With so much happening, washing the suit was the last thing I was thinking about.”

“We can put it to wash right now while we’re out,” Miguel offers, and you decide to take him up on that offer.

After putting your clothes to wash, you meet Miguel in the living room. You find him inspecting something small in his hands, and upon hearing you join him, he turns fully to face you. He extends his arm out to you, offering a small device. You look at him and then back at the device with curiosity before you take the device from his hand.

“So you can have a digital suit on” Miguel explains. “It’s just a black and grey suit with a simple spider web design. I remember I had it from the early days just laying around in the office upstairs. That way your face can be covered just in case there’s civilians.”

Nodding, you inspect the small device before you smile at him. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. Definitely don’t want anyone to get any ideas about my identity.”

Miguel helps you set up the digital suit, telling you how to disengage it, which takes a few tries but eventually you get it. You can’t help but think of all the pros of having a digital suit as you look at your hands, reminding you of the time Miguel offered a new suit after he unintentionally ripped a bit from his accident several months ago. You grin at him once you disengage the mask.

“Very cool. I could get used to this, I think,” you tell him and he grins back.

“It’s nice having not to worry about washing a suit but there’s some cons,” he replies as he engages his, suddenly standing in his suit in the blink of an eye. He disengages the mask, still grinning at you. “Something could happen - a malfunction - and leave your identity exposed. I guess that’s really the big con. You could also accidentally break the chip, and well, you’re left with nothing, not even a malfunction to fix. It’s happened before,” he says with a frown, remembering the time it happened.

You chuckle softly at the way he frowns which makes him smile gently at you.

“You could also accidentally delete the file, or your AI assistant does it because she thinks it’s funny.”

“Lyla,” you say with an amused smile.

“Lyla,” Miguel repeats shaking his head. “I have these bags ready so we can transport things easier, at least when traveling the multiverse,” Miguel says showing you.

“Thank you, that’ll definitely make it easier to move some things around.”

“Great, you ready?”

Once you nod, Miguel opens a portal to your universe. The two of you step out onto a random rooftop before you make your way to your building. You look for a few minutes at the condition. It looks different in daylight and without the adrenaline pumping through your body. In daylight and with no smoke, you can see the true damage. You say nothing but both you and Miguel can see that reconstruction will take some time. At least two months or so, if you and the other tenants are lucky. The only thing that gives you hope is the fact that the building is stable, or it seems to be.

“It would’ve fallen by now if it was unstable, right?” you ask Miguel softly.

Sensing that you want some reassurance, Miguel gently nods, and thankfully he doesn’t have to lie. He’s sure that it would’ve already collapsed, or shown signs, if it was going to but your building stands firm. “I’m sure it would’ve. I also…” Miguel trails off as his eyes scan the sidewalk, looking for some kind of warning. “I don’t see any sign warning about it. And look, the street is functioning. Surely they would’ve blocked the entire thing. It seems to be stable.”

You nod as your own eyes sweep the area, finding no sign like Miguel said, which relieves you.

“Do you want to head inside?” Miguel asks, wondering if maybe you need more time.

“Yes.”

With that, the two of you sneak into the building. You walk down the hallway, finding doors opened like you left them earlier this morning when you were making sure that everyone was out. Miguel looks around, his nose immediately registering the smell of smoke even though this floor was spared from the fire. You push the door open to your apartment, finding it ajar, and enter with Miguel behind. You look around for a few seconds, the smell of smoke is definitely here even if it’s not as strong as it probably is on the floors below.

Miguel stands back, letting you assess the space. He knows how much this apartment means to you, and he can imagine what you must be feeling right now. He’s glad your floor is still standing at least, but this is still a sad situation he wishes you hadn’t experienced at all.

“Right,” you say with a sigh. You disengage your suit and pull out the list you created earlier from a pocket, engaging the suit again minus the mask. “The fridge and food are the first thing.”

“You tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it,” Miguel says behind you, not wanting to overstep.

“I’ll go through the fridge. Do you mind taking out the food from the cabinets there?” you ask politely, gesturing to some cabinets.

“Not at all. I’ll pack it up,” Miguel replies as the two of you head into the kitchen area of your apartment.

You begin working on the fridge, cleaning it out to avoid spoiled food, and packing away things like drinks and other items that should still be good. You eventually move to the top of the fridge where you store your cereal. It was where Peter always placed it, and you kept it there even after his passing.

Packing away some cans of food, Miguel looks up as you place a cereal box labeled Spider O’s into a bag, catching his attention. He didn’t know you had your own Spider-Woman cereal. He continues to work on clearing out your cabinets, deciding it’s a story for later.

With the two of you working together, it takes twenty minutes to clean the kitchen. Miguel takes care of your garbage while you move to other areas of your apartment, like your living room. You eventually move to your closet to pack more clothes and other necessities while Miguel takes what’s already packed to his dimension. As he leaves to take two bags, you remember you haven’t agreed to staying at his place beyond tonight, reminding you that you still need to discuss that. You let yourself think about it as you pack other items until Miguel returns. A few minutes later, you’re taking out clothes from the dryer when he arrives.

“Need help?”

“No, it’s alright. I got it. I was packing my detergents when I remembered I have clothes on both machines.”

Miguel nods as he hands you a laundry basket for the damp clothes. “We can put those to wash again, if you’d like. They might smell like smoke.”

”Yes, you’re right,” you reply as you start placing the clothes on the laundry basket.

Miguel picks up another bag, closing it carefully. “Are there other bags ready for me to take?”

You gesture to some bags that mostly contain your clothes. “Those right there. This is the last of everything, so I can take some of them, too.”

“I can carry them, don’t worry. If you want to look around and make sure you have everything, go ahead. Take your time,” Miguel says softly, wanting to emphasize that you don’t need to rush.

“Thank you. I’m doing a quick scan but - looking at my list, that should be it,” you say as you pull out your list once again. You check it, looking for anything you may have skipped but find nothing. “That’s it from my list, but I’ll do one more round just to make sure.”

With your laundry basket pressed against your hip, you walk around the apartment trying to see if there’s anything else that needs to be done. You’re certain you’ll be returning over the next few days just to check up on things - maybe even open the windows a little bit while you do patrols to let the smell of smoke out. At last, you feel satisfied and see nothing else to do or retrieve, at least not at this moment. You sigh softly, thinking. You want to go downstairs, to the floors that were directly affected, but you say nothing.

Miguel and you return to Nueva York, to his penthouse. When you step out onto Miguel’s living room, you spot the bags. They’re all neatly aligned against a wall, ready to be unpacked.

“I’ve put the bags with food at the kitchen. I went ahead and put what was refrigerated in the fridge, so you don’t have to worry about that. I figure the rest of the non-perishable food can be organized later.”

“That sounds great, thank you,” you reply giving Miguel a warm smile. “You’ve helped me so much. I really appreciate it.”

“Always,” Miguel replies with a soft smile before he glances at the bags. “We organize those when we’re back?” You stare at him with curiosity, so he continues. “You want to look at the building, right? I’d like to go with you, just to make sure you’re safe. There may be loose debris.”

“You know me too well,” you reply, which makes Miguel smile once again. “I do want to look. Maybe it’s silly of me but, I’d like to for some reason.”

“It’s not silly,” Miguel says as he engages his mask again. “I’d want to do the same thing, so I understand completely. Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.”

🕸️🕸️🕸️

Miguel and you step over debris once you find yourselves on the main floor where the fire started. As Miguel predicted, there are loose wooden boards hanging from the ceiling in some areas. There are holes in the floor and what is left standing is damaged. You warn Miguel to be careful as you head to the first apartment you were in earlier this morning. Looking around, there are signs that this apartment had it worse than other areas, leading you to believe that this is where the fire started for sure.

“This was the first apartment I came into. The apartment belongs to the young women.”

“It seems to be in the worst condition,” Miguel says as he inspects a wooden board.

“I was thinking that, too,” you reply as you move about, careful not to hurt yourself. You keep an eye on Miguel as well, especially knowing that he doesn’t have a spidey sense, so he doesn’t end up injured.

You check what’s left of a wall, not really having a purpose for being here other than seeing the damage up close for yourself. You inspect the wall before moving away, your eyes scanning what’s left of burnt items. Your gaze stops on exposed wires, catching your attention immediately. Upon closer inspection, without touching, you read the label on them. Something about the brand’s name reminds you of something, but you can’t pinpoint it in this moment.

“What did you find?” Miguel asks standing next to you now, finding you gazing closely at something.

“Some wires. I think this is what’s left of a string of lights. I was just thinking how the brand’s name sounds familiar but I can’t remember from where,” you say with a shrug.

Miguel takes a look at it. Something about it also strikes him but he, too, cannot pinpoint it.

“OBRN.”

“OBRN,” you repeat but shake your head. “I’m probably overthinking, but finding this and seeing the state of this one apartment does seem like the fire started here. I guess we’ll have to see.”

Miguel frowns at what’s left of the string of lights, wondering how the tag survived the fire but dropping the topic for your sake. Despite resting during the morning, Miguel is sure this is still exhausting, if not physically, at least mentally and emotionally.

“Yeah, I guess we’ll have to wait,” he replies as you turn away, quickly typing something onto his gizmo before he follows you.

You sigh softly and nod at Miguel. “This is definitely going to take some time,” you murmur more to yourself than Miguel, sadness and disbelief laced in your tone.

Miguel detects it and stands next to you, trying to provide some comfort with his presence. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers. “The building will be fully functional in no time, I’m sure.”

Smiling once again, you nod at Miguel’s words. “Yes… You’re right. Everything will be okay,” you state, embracing those words.

The two of you stand there for a few minutes in silence. You decide it’s time to go as you feel a breeze hit your unmasked face, causing you to shiver and remember winter just started.

“Do you want to head back?” Miguel asks, noticing the breeze and the way you shivered.

“Yeah, I think it’s time. It’s getting colder,” you reply.

“It is,” Miguel answers as he opens a portal for the two of you, finding it safe to do so in this space.

The two of you head back to Nueva York, which makes you realize Miguel has traveled from your universe to his multiple times today just to help you. As you travel between universes, you tell yourself you’ll bake something for him in the next few days as a way to show your appreciation for all his help and support. Once in Nueva York, you put a load of clothes to wash since most of your clothes smell like smoke. You also put your suit and the other clothes you had on this morning to dry with Miguel’s gentle encouraging to make yourself at home and to feel comfortable using the penthouse however you need to.

Afterwards, Miguel helps you organize the food that was brought from your home, finding cabinets to store it at without messing his kitchen organization, something you were worried about. Of course, Miguel didn’t mind at all.

After a little break and showering again because of the smell of smoke, the two of you move upstairs to your bedroom for the evening. You’ve made your mind up but there’s some things you want to talk about with Miguel, points you hope to discuss later.

In the meantime, you and Miguel fix the bedroom. You set up your personal hygiene products on the dresser while Miguel safely unpacks your records and places them on the bookshelf. You proceed to place Peter’s record player on the desk for now and other items that belonged to him on the bookshelf.

As you do that, Miguel moves towards a box he remembers carrying here earlier in the morning. He doesn’t know what’s in it but he carefully picks it up and asks where he should place it.

“That’s Peter’s… belongings,” you reply softly as you stare at the box.

Miguel notices your lingering gaze, the way it softens. He gently offers it to you, figuring that you want to handle this box personally. You smile at him with respect and endearment, and surprisingly, shake your head.

“I trust you with it. I’m not opening it right now. I haven’t opened it in… some time, to be honest,” you reveal, holding one of Peter’s belongings. “I think it can go under the desk for now. Thank you, Miguel.”

He nods with a soft smile, feeling touched that you trust him with this box knowing how much Peter and his belongings mean to you. He proceeds to place the box under the desk, carefully, before moving on to something else.

At last, the two of you are done. You both sit on the bed and look around the room, seeing the progress. All throughout the process of fixing up the bedroom, you’ve been keeping track of the laundry, a chore you decide to tackle tomorrow when you realize it’s been a few hours since you and Miguel headed to your universe. There’s also the fact that you haven’t done a patrol at your universe, something that nags you.

Looking around the room, you notice how this feels like “your” room now. There’s Peter’s record player on the desk and your technology devices. Your personal hygiene products and other accessories are on the dresser. Some of your pictures are displayed on floating shelves, some of which include Miguel.

“Thank you for helping me set up,” you tell Miguel quietly.

He nods, looking at some of the photos. “Always,” he says turning his gaze towards you.

You grin at him before you check the time on your gizmo. “I’m going to - head out for a little bit. To patrol,” you explain. “I didn’t do my morning patrol, and it feels weird.”

“Understandably,” Miguel replies. “It’s just for today though. You’ll fall back into your routine, I’m sure of it.” Miguel turns to the window, noticing the sun has almost disappeared for the day before he returns his gaze to you. “I’ll be here if you need anything during your patrol. Take it easy, okay?”

“I will,” you reply with a small grin before you stand up. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Miguel nods watching you leave the bedroom and sitting in the room for a little while, thinking about dinner.

You head to your universe and patrol, feeling some sense of normalcy as you do this. You fly around your city, making your usual stops and feeling more at ease. Your night patrol makes you feel better as you swing between buildings and cars below, even when you think about Peter and his words from the dream. You give a silent thank you to him, finding his words soothing. Fortunately, you find no trouble or emergency, so you decide to head back to Nueva York an hour later, knowing you’ll still be able to know if something does happen.

It’s then that you receive a notification from Miguel telling you that he’s buying dinner and that he’ll wait for you on a rooftop, which makes you wonder for a few seconds before he sends coordinates. You head to Nueva York, traveling directly to the rooftop Miguel told you, realizing it’s a round building. You step out and look around, finding no one. You walk to the edge of the rooftop, looking at the nearby buildings and streets below in hopes of spotting Miguel. It takes you a few seconds but you eventually sense his presence through your spidey senses, or at least you believe it’s him. As you look around, you finally spot his suit as he swings from building to building with one arm while he holds things in the other.

He reaches you in no time, landing gently on the rooftop. His mask disengages as he approaches you.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“It went well,” you reply. “No encounters. It was peaceful.”

“That’s good,” Miguel says as he hands you a to-go cup. “I’m glad you had no trouble, especially after today.”

You thank him for the drink and nod. For some reason, it feels like it’s been days since the fire, as if it wasn’t this morning when you woke up and realized your building was on fire. You sigh quietly, chalking it up to the fact that it has been a long day.

“I hope you don’t mind but I bought tacos. There’s this great place in downtown and they make the best. I would say they have the best ones in Nueva York, really, and I thought after everything that it’d be nice to just eat out. Gabriel also used to say there’s nothing like tacos to lift someone’s spirits,” Miguel says with a soft smile as he gestures for you to join him.

You smile back and follow him as he reaches the edge of the rooftop. He places the bags on the ground before he sits down, his legs danging off the building. You look around for a few seconds before you join him, the bags between the two of you now. You watch as he pulls out boxes from a bag before he spreads the empty bag on the floor, and then placing the boxes over it so the boxes don’t make contact with the ground.

“That’s agua de horchata. I was going to get you agua de Jamaica but - the place is known for their agua de horchata, so I figured why not,” Miguel explains as he hands you a straw.

You grin and accept the straw before you try the drink, and of course, it’s amazing. “I can see why. It’s so good!”

Smiling, Miguel hands you napkins. “I thought you’d like it. On the tacos, I order a few of each since I didn’t know what kind you wanted, and I didn’t want to distract you while you were patrolling, so I thought this was a good option.” Miguel puts his straw into his cup, thinking. He’s telling a half-truth. He could’ve sent you a quick message about your order but he truly didn’t want to disturb you. He knows today has been a long day, not only because of the fire itself but the aftermath, too, with packing and taking care of the little things like the fridge and the food. He hoped that nothing came up at your universe so you could have a moment of peace, at least. Thankfully, it seems that it went well since he can see that you’re in good spirits. The other reason why he didn’t reach out about the food is because he wanted to surprise you.

He got the idea after you left and he remained in the bedroom, thinking about dinner. Being in Gabriel’s old room, Miguel remembered what his brother used to say about tacos, about how they could cheer people up. It was always his way to cheer up Miguel when he was stressed out, even back when Miguel was in college. Gabriel always joked that it was his love language, which always made Miguel laugh. He never dared to disagreed with the younger O’Hara on that.

Miguel focuses on the now as the two of you set up the salsas and lime slices to use on your tacos. Once that’s settled, the eating begins. You grab from one kind and Miguel from another, discussing how amazing the tacos are. Miguel tells you to try a salsa, while you tell him to try another one.

Despite the cold weather, the two of you enjoy your food and conversation on the rooftop, eventually talking about other things like your friends. The conversation about them leads you to remember their messages, which you read earlier, and the gifts they sent. You remind yourself to check the gifts once Miguel and you return to his place. At some point the conversation shifts and Miguel is telling you more about Nueva York. He tells you about the buildings around you before he tells you about the stores that can be found in Nueva York’s downtown. He mentions the public libraries, parks, and the Lunar Train, thinking to himself that he hasn’t been to those places in years but that it’d be nice to visit again. He looks at you when he thinks about that - an idea forming in his head but one he doesn’t voice. Not yet, anyway.

After eating, you thank Miguel for the amazing tacos. He asks which ones were your favorites, just so he knows for future reference before you both fall into a comfortable and peaceful silence, drinking from your cups with agua de horchata. Your gazes take in the skyline of Nueva York at night, a sight you’re not used to but one that you love and appreciate when you have the opportunity to. You silently think about how beautiful Nueva York is before you look down, noticing you must be about fifty thousand feet in the air.

Miguel continues to observe the skyline before his eyes move higher up, finding a sky sprinkled with stars. He feels at ease, comfortable like he always does when you’re in his presence. He takes another drink from his cup, thinking. You’ve settled in and things have been taken care off at your apartment for the time being but there’s still something pending. Something neither of you have brought up. He holds on to his cup, still looking at the sky. Should he bring it up now? Should he wait?

Miguel doesn’t want you to feel like he’s pressuring you to stay, or for you to take him asking as a sign that he doesn’t want you to when in reality, it’s the opposite. He hopes you stay at his place so you’re not staying at a hotel with limitations. Plus, he doesn’t like the idea of you staying alone at a hotel, even if he knows that you can take care of yourself. He sighs quietly as he stares at the stars, silently debating. He feels some peace knowing you’ll at least stay at his place for tonight, maybe even the weekend, too.

You look up from the ground and stare at the sky, noticing twinkling stars. You enjoy the sight as you start thinking about how your friends offered a place for you to stay at, especially the Morales family. You’re grateful for your friends and their loved ones who were also worried about you but you politely declined. Everyone lives with someone already whether that’s with parents, spouses, or other friends, like Hobie, so you felt that it would be too much of an inconvenience. The gesture makes you incredibly grateful, however. You have loving and supportive friends.

“What are you thinking about?” Miguel asks softly.

You grin. “Honestly? About how everyone has offered me a place to stay in the meantime.” Your gaze drops to Nueva York’s skyline again, feeling Miguel’s eyes on you. “And how I’m so thankful I have all of you. It really means a lot to me. So much,” you say with a soft sigh. “Perhaps I was naive, but I never imagined this happening and - much less without Peter, you know? I’m just… I’m really happy - and so thankful - that I’m not alone,” you confess, turning to face Miguel at last.

Meeting your gaze, Miguel smiles gently, understanding what you mean. He’s glad that you’re not alone anymore, which is something that still bothers him. He hates thinking about how you spent so many years on your own. As time has gone by, Miguel has found himself wondering about those years. Did you ever get sick? Did you ever find yourself unwell because of your period like you did the first time he ever went to your apartment? There were other things he thought about, like the first year without Peter when you had already cut ties with friends. Who was there for you? Who looked after you? Who comforted you?

Miguel knows there was no one, and it bothers him deeply. So much, that he still wishes he would’ve found your universe sooner, even thought you told him a while ago that he found you at the “right” time. His uneasy thoughts about this are soothed by the fact that those days are over for you. You have friends - a little family - that loves and supports you.

And he, thankfully, is part of it.

“You’re not alone,” Miguel says, stating it as a fact. “You have so many people that love and support you. We’re all here for you - the way you’re always here for us.”

You smile brighter at that. “Thanks to the Spider Society,” you say softly. “You know - I can’t believe I declined Jess’s invitation at first.”

Miguel grins, chuckling quietly. “I think I remember you saying multiple times, too.”

“I did. And she came back and asked me again, until she finally convinced me by asking me what Peter would’ve thought.” Your smile softens at the thought of him, your sweet Peter. You turn to the sky, thinking that if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be here now. Even in death, Peter has guided and supported you throughout the years.

You think about your dream from this morning, how he warned you about the fire. or at least, it seems so. A warmth spreads throughout your chest as you turn to Miguel. If it wasn’t for Peter, you wouldn’t be here now, next to one of your closest friends. You silently thank Peter.

As to Miguel, he gazes at you, noticing that soft look on your face as you think about the man he never had the opportunity to meet. Despite never meeting the man, Miguel also silently thanks Peter for being the reason you joined the Spider Society - for having you in his life now.

You sigh and smile at Miguel. “I want to negotiate some terms.”

Miguel’s eyebrows raise at this but he quickly realizes what you’re talking about. He gives you a small but playful smirk before he turns his body to you, pulling one of his legs inside and close to his body while leaving the other one still dangling off the rooftop. “Let’s hear these terms then.”

You mirror his position, leaving enough space between each other to place your drinks. “Okay, well first of all - you said not to worry about bills or rent, or even groceries.”

“That’s correct.”

“I realize I cannot help with bills or rent because of our different currency.”

“Yes, and there’s no way for us to convert it either,” Miguel replies all too happily about this.

You playfully glare at him, which only serves to amuse him more. “Yet. We should find a way to do that, to be honest but - as to right now, there’s no way. However, I can buy groceries.”

Miguel saves your idea about establishing a currency conversion system for the future. It might be something fun for the Spider Society. He briefly realizes that he’s into this idea, which makes him recognize that he has shut down other members’ ideas in the past. He wonders.

Is it that he has changed his mind because of the years and his progress in moving forward, or is it because it’s coming from you? He doesn’t have much time to think of it, and he decides maybe it’s for the better, at least for now, before he addresses your statement about buying groceries. “No, you don’t have to do that. I told you this morning that I’ll take care of that. The only thing, food wise, that you need to worry about is if it’s something that’s not available here. Everything else, I got it.”

“But Miguel -” you start, pausing and releasing a gentle but frustrated sigh. “I know I can’t help with bills and rent but please let me help with this. I know you’re being generous - supportive but I don’t want to just, you know. Stay there for however long this will take or however long it’s okay for me to stay-”

“I’m not kicking you out,” Miguel says, losing his smirk for a few seconds. Now he’s the one frustrated. “I wouldn’t be offering if I was planning on asking you to leave at some point. You can stay there for however you need, or want to,” Miguel explains.

“Thank you,” you reply softly. “But that means, it might be a little while, and you’re already being so kind by letting me stay with you. I can’t - just stay there and not contribute somehow.”

“You can, you just don’t want to,” Miguel says gently, earning himself a playful glare again. He grins. “Alright, what are suggesting then?”

“I want to help with groceries, and other ways. I know it’ll be tricky with the groceries, and I don’t have a good plan yet but I want to contribute,” you reply.

Miguel chuckles softly, finding it both endearing and amusing when you admit not having a plan yet, but still wanting to contribute. Understanding where you are coming from, Miguel nods at last. He knows you’re an independent woman in all aspects and you’ve probably become even more so since you’ve lost Peter. He understands that you feel the need to do something, to contribute. He realizes he’s been the same way for years - always trying to be independent. Miguel silently wonders if maybe, this temporary change will help the two of you relearn that some forms of dependency are not bad.

“I understand wanting to contribute somehow and I’ll respect it, even though I want you to know that I mean it when I say you don’t have to worry about these things… What I’m trying to say is that, you don’t need to worry about some kind of payment, Y/N. If it was me, you would be telling me the same thing. I know it,” Miguel replies. “I’ll be more than happy to cook for the two of us, but I also know that on some days you might want to eat something that I don’t know how to cook, so you can buy groceries if you wish but,” Miguel pauses and shrugs, grinning softly. “We could always plan meals. If you want to, of course. Or, have days where we cook something individually, which I’ll always make a plate for you just in case you want to try it. We can think of something, I’m sure of it. We’re not strangers, we’re…” Miguel trails off and nods at you. “You would do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” you reply quickly, without hesitation.

“Then, you understand. I don’t want any kind of payment. I don’t want you to worry about bills or contributing somehow. I just want you to feel at home as much as possible. I know it’s not the same as your apartment, as your universe but that’s my hope. I understand you want to do something though, so I’ll respect it. We can think of something as the days go by if it makes you feel better,” he offers gently.

“I’d like that. I don’t want this to feel like…” you trail off. “I’m taking advantage of you.”

Miguel shakes his head and smiles, reassuringly. “You’re not. You could never. I’m the one offering, and I’m doing it willingly and happily. I just want to help as much as I can. The same way you would help me.”

You sigh softly and nod. “Alright.”

“So, do we have a deal? Are you open to staying in Nueva York for the meantime?”

You hold Miguel’s gaze and nod. “Yes.”

“Good,” Miguel answers happily, relieved.

“Thank you,” you add gently.

“Always.”

The two of you smile at each other for a few seconds before turning to look at Nueva York’s skyline once again in silence, enjoying the rest of your agua de horchata under a star sprinkled sky.

_________ Translations of Spanish words: Mierda - Shit Dios - God Ternura - endearment, tenderness Flautas - literally translates to "flute"; a deep fried tortilla with meat filling and topped with various toppings like cabbage, salsa, fresh cheese Agua de Jamaica - hibiscus tea Agua de Horchata - sweet Latin beverage, mainly made out of rice _________ A/N: Hi, guys!! First update of the year!! I hope January has treated all of you well! 🥰 I'm sorry for the delayed update. I got caught up with some things after the holidays, and then decided to take a little break from social media and writing, so that delayed the update a little bit. I'm so happy that I got the update out before the end of the month though! What do we think, though? WE'RE STAYING AT MIGUEL'S PLACE!! 🥺 And he's so sweet about making you (us) feel at home (not me fangirling about my own work but it's Miguel)!! I just - I love him!! And Miguel being opened to more physical contact? He's moving forward!! 🥹 I hope you guys enjoyed this part!! I also want to give @sunsetdoodler credit and a shoutout for the Spider O's cereal! She included it in this fanart many months ago and I loved it so much I wanted to include it at some point. It'll show up again in the future for sure! Thank you @sunsetdoodler !! Your support means so much to me!! ❤️ Also, shoutout to Ana, or @faretheeoscar who led me to give a bit of a sneak peek about something that will happen in the future thanks to her "Promise Me Miguel" AU based on a dream she had (I wish I could dream of Miguel and our Peter 😭)!! I also want to mention, once again, that there's so much fanart that has been created for this fic by incredible and talented artists!! Please go and check it out, and show some love to the artists!! ❤️ You can find all fanart here - under the "Nonviolent Communication" header! Thank you guys for reading and supporting this story!! It means so, SO MUCH to me!! I truly appreciate all the support - from the reblogs to the comments and likes; to the asks about songs some of you have connected to the story to little scenarios and your thoughts on the story!! I'm always surprised to see that you guys think of the story in your daily life - like, you guys actually think about it? It always makes my day!!! 😭

I'm truly so grateful for all the amazing support this story has received so far, and I hope you all enjoy the rest of it!! 🥺 Thank you guys!!! I hope the beginning of February treats you well!! ❤️ -Alondra

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svsss-fanon-exposed · 4 months

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Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 12/∞

SHEN QINGQIU WAS BANNED FROM XIAN SHU PEAK

Rating: FANON - NEUTRAL

It is very common in fanfics for Shen (Jiu) Qingqiu to have been banned from visiting Xian Shu Peak due to his habit of visiting brothels.

This does not have basis in canon, however, it is not necessarily unlikely.

The only passage that directly mentions the relationship between the original Shen Qingqiu and Qi Qingqi is the following:

In the original work, Qi Qingqi and Shen Qingqiu had no real relationship and very few interactions. (7 Seas, Ch. 4)

While one reading of this may suggest that there was no relationship between them at all, another reading could say that there was no relationship between them that was discussed in PIDW.

It's known that Qi Qingqi doesn't have a high opinion of Shen (Jiu) Qingqiu:

Qi Qingqi wrinkled her nose. “Zhangmen-shixiong, do you actually hope he’ll remember and recover his previous…character and conduct?” (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

but her opinion of him doesn't seem to be too different than any of the other peak lords.

However, it would not be out of character for her to ban someone considered lecherous from Xian Shu Peak. Qi Qingqi is known to take protective measures, such as suggesting the following during a meeting:

Fourth, Xian Shu Peak requests permission to fortify and increase the height of their fences, and petitions for their fences to be electrified. (7 Seas, Ch. 28)

Despite this, Shen Qingqiu is still her senior so it would be unlikely for her to ban him directly or formally. Nor would Xian Shu Peak's disciples be forbidden from speaking or interacting with him. However, it may be possible that she requested he not visit, and that he agreed to this, thus creating an informal ban. It is also possible that Qi Qingqi, with her fierce and direct personality, may have instituted a ban regardless of seniority.

The only other thing we know is that Shen (Yuan) Qingqiu does not often visit Xian Shu Peak himself, instead sending Luo Binghe:

In the past, Shen Qingqiu had given Luo Binghe quite a few miscellaneous errands. Thus, one could often have found him on Xian Shu Peak. From time to time he’d gone there to deliver a letter, distribute a notice, invite someone over, or borrow something. (7 Seas, Ch. 22 - worth noting that this is from Bing-ge's perspective, so it is unsure whether this refers to Shen (Yuan) Qingqiu, or the original Shen Qingqiu. However, the characteristic of "giving LBH errands" seems much more in line with SY!QQ, so that is how I am interpreting it)

However, this isn't really support for a potential ban. It could be due to Shen Qingqiu wishing to avoid any potential accusations and/or distancing himself from that reputation, or it could be because he wishes to facilitate interactions between Luo Binghe and the members of his future harem, or just because he liked to send Luo Binghe to complete as many tasks as possible. There are any number of reasons for this.

Post canon, it is clear that there is no ban, as Qi Qingqi herself suggests that Shen Qingqiu visit Xian Shu Peak:

“What do you mean buy?” Qi Qingqi asked. “Do you not know how to use what we have? Just go to Xian Shu Peak and ask a few jiejie and meimei to make some outfits for him.” (7 Seas, Ch. 28)

But by this point, enough time has passed that it doesn't mean much, and if a ban existed, it may have been lifted.

While this is something Shen Qingqiu would have likely mentioned if true, it is possible that it wasn't mentioned in PIDW, or was only mentioned as a one-off like that Shen Qingqiu forgot about-- there are many different possibilities that could be used to argue in favor or against this headcanon.

In the end, there is not enough information to say whether or not something like this would be possible-- however, it is never mentioned in canon, so any relationship between Shen (Jiu) Qingqiu and Xian Shu Peak is up to speculation and headcanon.

#fanon exposed #svsss #qi qingqi #shen qingqiu #shen jiu

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rainbowsky · 24 days

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Hey, I'm new here and i love your blog! I was wondering if the boys see couple\sexual edits of them together and if it makes them nervous but then it hit me that they probably aren't seeing what i see on western social media. Do you have any idea if those types of homosexual posts get censored in China?

Hi Yingyangorly! Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog!☺️

I have a huge long, like, ridiculously long post in my drafts related to this topic, hopefully coming soon.

But to answer your question, I think it's impossible that GG and DD would fail to see at least some of what's posted about them as a couple, whether sent to them by friends, family or staff, or whether stumbled upon or intentionally sought out/browsed by them. It's inevitable they'll see some of it, particularly things that get a lot of attention.

I talked about this a bit a while back. GG and DD have said in interviews that they have fake social media accounts (and of course they would - how could you go anywhere or do anything on social media without one if you were famous?), and this kind of discussion has happened somewhat in relation to fan comments, etc.

You can check out my previous post for more on that stuff.

As for sexual edits, etc., like any other content I've no doubt they've seen some of it - it's inevitable they would - but I doubt it worries them all that much. It's highly unlikely to ever impact them directly, because ultimately it's not really about them, is it? It's about the creators who make it. Any backlash is more likely to fall upon creators, not GG and DD.

And just as a reminder - it's not illegal to be gay in China, it's not illegal to post homosexual content, etc. Such content is censored on TV and other broadcast media, but not online.

Porn is very illegal in China, but that's mostly only selectively enforced. In fact, China produces a lot of porn and a lot of smutty fiction and all of it is illegal, but it still manages to thrive fairly well.

Explicit content of any kind is technically not allowed on Weibo but it's still out there - although most of it is pretty toned down and tame. Actual porn of sexual activity isn't ubiquitous there, but lewd fan art, fan fic, edits and memes can often be found.

All platforms globally have rules against explicit content, and they're just as poorly enforced everywhere. I suspect a lot of that is because social media engagement makes money, and sex sells. It's not really in the interest of platforms to completely shut down all such content - even if it was possible to do so.

The supertopic rules likely have more impact on fan behavior in this regard than the Weibo TOS does. Those rules forbid mentioning GG and DD by name or tagging their accounts, and forbid sexualization, pornography, feminization and fixating on body parts. However, that's only within the supertopics. Ultimately people are free to post whatever they want on their own accounts, and they do.

Given how many antis and solos are out there trying to take down the turtle fandom, the fact that these things manage to stay up for as long as they do speaks to how weak the enforcement is. There are definitely people out there who will report things that offend them.

This is, in fact, how the whole 227 thing got started. A bunch of solos decided to report an explicit fanfic to the government, and things spiralled out of control from there.

Could lightning strike a second time and another 227 be sparked from some of this explicit content? For a lot of complicated reasons I'm not going to get into here (it would be a very long post), I don't think that's likely.

227 was a special, very complicated situation that I don't think is likely to happen the same way again. Timing and a lot of the other factors that played into its blowing up the way it did - all of that is unlikely to align in such a way. Especially since everyone in C-ent is a lot more cautious and vigilant after 227.

GG and DD are both in good standing with the government (as is evidenced by their inclusion in government and nationalistic projects), and that's a factor that will have some influence. And no doubt they and their teams have learned a lot from past experience, and have already planned for how to protect them in various scenarios that could arise.

They also have the power to have content relating to them removed, to sue content creators, to shut down the supertopics if they want to, etc.. If they feel at risk, they have a lot of recourse. The fact that we aren't seeing this happening should reassure us that it's probably fine.

We have to realize that GG and DD are surrounded by highly skilled, highly paid professionals whose entire job is to protect them and their interests. They're both in a much safer place than they were 4 years ago.

I trust them to know what's best for them and handle their affairs accordingly. We as fans shouldn't waste time hand-wringing over things that are completely outside our control.

As for what's within our control - it's up to every individual to make our own choices about how we'll represent GG and DD online.

More on that angle if/when I ever finish that other post.

#bjyx #yizhan #ggdd in the public eye #fandom reflections #thanks so much #bxg ggdd #ask

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pinesfamilyguidetotheweird · 7 months

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Gravity Falls Thoughts: Ford and Trauma™ (Part 01; because I know I'm turning this into a multi-part series)

So...when you start to think about it, Ford has been through a lot. Because of Gravity Falls' nature as a 2-season Disney cartoon, I feel that we've only scratched the surface of all the crap this man went through.

And thanks to the fandom...good Lord in Heaven, all the flippin' Trauma!!! Sweet Moses...

I mean, other than Bill Cipher and Weirdmageddon, Ford has a level of trauma that not a lot of people have.

Of course, Ford isn't the only one with Trauma™. Really, all four of the Pines are traumatized in some way. I mostly want to focus on Ford for now.

Now, most of the trauma Ford is given is fan speculation/interpretation. The thing is though, is that these traumas would make sense if Gravity Falls was given a more serious direction. (sort of like Steven Universe, a show that is more emotionally driven)

Okay...first things first, nutrition.

In a previous post I've made (I think it was about the Feral Ford headcanon; which I may or may not go into further detail in this series), I said something along the lines of how Ford wouldn't be all that bothered by weird looking food or could even stomach strange food combinations.

While a part of me still thinks this, another one thinks of something else thanks to reading a lot of fanfics of his essentially living off of nutrient pills.

This is from Ford having to be constantly on the move to avoid Bill's reach during his travels. I'd imagine it's a rare occurrence for him to be able to sit down and have a decent meal, either at an establishment or even hunting for food. Not only that, but you have to remember that a lot of the places he went to probably don't have food suitable for humans.

So, Ford has probably taken to nutrient pills so that way he's always on the go, among other foods he's able to preserve and carry.

The thing is, living on mostly nutrient pills could only take you so far before it could be more of a bad boon. Nutrient pills wouldn't exactly give you the appropriate amount of calories a human adult male needs. Especially if they are constantly in danger.

This can lead to some malnutrition.

Yes. I took time to research this so we can properly make Ford's life more like hell.

Signs/Symptoms of Malnutrition (according to NHS)

(Other than the main concern of weight loss and BMI being low)

reduced appetite

lack of interest in food and drink

feeling tired all the time

feeling weaker

getting ill often and taking a long time to recover

wounds taking a long time to heal

poor concentration

feeling cold most of the time

...feeling cold most of the time...

"feeling cold most of the time"

...And who wears a turtleneck sweater/trench coat combo during the summer?

And, lastly, Low mood, sadness and depression.

Furthermore, it would seem that Ford would have developed a low tolerance to actual food (other than bland, mushy stuff) and is probably incapable of eating a whole meal without throwing up.

It's a struggle to be sure, especially if Ford already has a history to forget meals, even as a child (may or may not be projecting here as someone who forgets to eat)...not to mention the months of paranoia due to Bill prior to being sucked into the Portal.

I'm honestly imagining a scene in which Abuelita (bless her soul) tries to feed Ford when she sees how skinny he is...or at least what she perceives as skinny. And no one (no one) can say no to Abuelita Ramirez. And it's Mexican food. There is absolutely nothing bland about it. And Ford does his best to eat it...only to scurry into the bathroom after three bites. He didn't mean to be rude. It was honestly very delicious. Ford's body just couldn't handle it at the moment.

At least Abuelita is understanding of the situation and becomes Stan's right hand woman on his quest to help Ford with his eating habits.

...Great, another idea for an upcoming fic...I had a title in mind but I feel like I should call it *Trauma* Ford Edition.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #grunkle ford #ford pines #gravity falls thoughts #trauma

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comradekatara · 2 months

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Hello! So this is not quite an ask but THANK YOU for doing god's work of injecting some actual nuance, defending bolin (among other things), critiquing the comics, and all the plot holes/things that just don't make sense which become glaringly obvious if one thinks about any aspect for more than two seconds (lol but you know this already duh) and am only annoyed I did not stumble upon this blog sooner, since I am so done with this show (but also I keeping at it like the scabs). Also, your art is delightful! If you still require an ask, do you perchance write fanfic? (it's possible you might have mentioned it but sometimes I can't read lol)

Have a good day!

hello, and thank you! also it’s funny that defending bolin is the first thing you list because I thought I made it pretty clear that I think his character is direly poorly-written and that I do not care for him. but… you’re welcome I guess? but yes obviously critiquing the comics and imbuing nuance and all of that I will definitely gladly take credit for. and thank you for liking my art! i do occasionally write fanfic, but i’ve only ever shown it to my friends and never actually posted it anywhere, so functionally, my answer would be no. i have debated posting it in the past, but idk, i don’t think that would be a good idea. maybe someday i’ll snap tho who knows.

as for your other ask…

Also because I clicked on the ask button before I had a brain fart (so if this would come off a bit deranged for posting an ask right after the first my apologies), I also want to mention the commentary that Iroh being 'everyone's favourite sexist' is gold because we just gloss over that and no one ever seems to mention that scene. Another thing about atla is that the reason given for Zuko's constant internal struggle and conflict is because he's descended from the previous avatar and the fire lord but hello, Azula?? Did Ursa have an affair now?? Isn't she just as worthy of redemption, or the fact she's just as abused anyhoo ok im done

I mean I’m assuming by “that scene” you mean the one with june, but tbh his misogyny isn’t relegated to simply one unpalatable scene. it’s reflected in how he treats azula (versus zuko) across the show. and I know that zuko is softer and more amenable than azula, and he has demonstrated a desire to do good that azula hasn’t, but it’s also quite troubling that iroh just writes off his fourteen year old niece as a lost cause when she is also the sibling who most resembles him. and he somehow just can’t seem to understand that she is worthy of the same empathy and compassion and understanding as zuko is, that playing favorites like this isn’t good or normal. and I actually think that azula has it way worse than iroh, both because she’s a girl and because azulon seemed to love iroh conditionally (despite clearly not feeling the same about ozai), whereas ozai’s love for azula is incredibly conditional and does not exempt her from his violence. but you know. her hysterical wandering womb is outta control she needs to go down she cant be trusted she’s a sickopath!!!! like. ok old man.

as for your next point, I do think that what iroh says about zuko’s ancestry reflecting the ideological battle within him is fully bullshit, but I do reconcile that by interpreting iroh’s claims not as what he truly believes, but as a rhetorical point he thinks might get through to zuko. because he’s really run the gamut of wisdom and guidance, some of it even being contradictory, just in an attempt to pierce through zuko’s thick, stubborn skull. and it does pay off, eventually, but it takes ages to get there. like how much do you wanna bet his first approach was to just straight up be like “your father is an abuser and you shouldn’t adhere to his dogmas.” and then when that didn’t work he started getting creative with it. and like, the reason it gets through to zuko isn’t even because roku was his great grandfather, but because he was ursa’s grandfather. and realizing that he too can be good and stand up for what he believes in, like her, his true role model, is his ultimate takeaway from that lesson. but I really do think by that point iroh’s rhetorical strategy was really to just throw vaguely pertinent metaphors at the wall to see what sticks.

#traegern #asks #iroh #zuko #azula #iroh&zuko #azula&iroh #azula&ozai #ursa&zuko #analysis #also thank u for calling it ‘fanfic’ and not ‘fic’ this is rly a pet peeve of mine #fiction????? just any fiction????????#(i do also write ‘fic’ in this sense but like. that’s a completely different question)

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jackiequick · 6 months

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Duck, duck, duck, duck, Goose! | Top Gun Fanfic 🧸

Top Gun AU✈️

——

Pairing: Nick Bradshaw x Carole Bradshaw , Pete Mitchell & Tom Kazansky

Summary: When it came to kids Carole, Iceman and Maverick only had to worry about two. Bradley and his young brother, Dane. Then came Jenny. It seemed fit, 3 for 3! But when another Mitchell kid, came along they realized they had more on their hands. 4 for 4!

Characters mentioned/include: Audrey, Buzz, Wraith, Slider, Hazel, and the rest of the 86’ class

Timeline: Post-Top Gun (1986), Pre Top Gun Maverick

Warning: Canon character death mentioned

Fic type: Fluff and humorous, with small moments of angst

Previous fic —> Click here

———

There were moments like this where if you told Maverick and the others years ago, that kids would be part of the agenda they would’ve laughed at you so hard and through you were crazy.

But then the kids started coming over the years.

It started with Goose and Carole. High school sweethearts destined to get married and have kids of their own, where everyone can only wish to have a portion of what they had.

Of course, they had little Bradley Bradshaw or baby goose as he was nicknamed.

Adorable little blonde boy with cubby cheeks and a curious little smile that meant determination. He looked just like his father in every way, Maverick would tell his nephew that years to come.

It was great being a little group of 4. Memories made and laughs saved.

But sadly, then Goose died after a training accident while Carole and Bradley were there to visit them. Maverick felt horrible, so did Iceman, Audrey and the rest of the 86’ class. Gloomy painful days were to come after that.

However there was a flip side, a little surprise to come after the clouds were blowing away.

And that little beam of sunlight became Dane Bradshaw many months later.

Carole didn’t know she was pregnant at the time until Audrey pointed out how fuzzy she felt lately and honestly they couldn’t have been happier in that moment.

Maverick lightly joked, “Wow! I guess Goose really take you to bed.”

“Oh Mav, play nice and that was a little secret.” Replied the Carole with a smile joking back.

Sunset chuckled, “And made sure to leave a bag of surprises afterwards.”

—

Goose really did leave a bag of surprise afterwards but they didn’t know that yet until years later.

Duck, duck, duck, duck, Goose!

—

Dane Bradshaw was the spitting image of his mother with such a warmth and gentle smile to him, he was nicknamed pooh bear.

Him and Bradley were only 2-3 years apart in age, but there will be moments where they acted like they shared the same brain cell. Being silly little ducklings, surprising people with their charm and sweet tactics.

There were days Carole would come home to the kids (along with Maverick) causing a mess in the house baking. Days where the boys will go playing with water guns and end up getting Audrey’s clothes wet.

Or with Iceman, where Bradley would show their uncle an idea for an airplane to build with boxes and other items in the house. Meanwhile Dane would collect all the ideas, wanting to go big or go bold enough to shine with their plane where Ice couldn’t have the heart to say no.

Other times, Dane was the sweetest thing in the whole entire world. A gushing image is a gentle breeze holding up flowers to his aunties such as Hazel and Audrey, making get well cards for his mama. Hugging his uncle Mav and teasing his uncle Ice with a little grin.

But he was also very protective, him and his brother, being a guard dog when it comes their mother. That goes for Hazel, Valkyrie, Audrey and whatever other lady in their lives.

————

Speaking on ladies, they were surprised at the time she arrived. It was an unexpected surprise indeed as for she came at an old hour of the night. No alert, no phone call or an letter from the post man.

Just an knock on the door in a carrier held the first half of The Mitchell-Bradshaw clan. Jennifer Penelope Mitchell, or as she was nickname princess.

Don’t worry she gets a handful of nicknames later on, so do all the kids!

Pete and Ice were in total shock at the bundle of joy brought to their attention but welcomed her with open arms nonetheless.

It took Maverick a long couple of hours, even days to fully get his head around the fact he had a daughter.

It wasn’t until Carole met her and saw the cheeky little smile that she said, “Yup, Pete she’s yours alright!”

“Yes she is.” Audrey added, blowing raspberries into her cheek.

The girls fell in love with Jenny overnight, engulfed by her sweetness but since she was Mav’s kid the girl hated to sleep and very silly. According Iceman she was stubborn like her father but Audrey would say she’s stubborn like him instead.

When Carole brought the boys to meet their cousin/future best friend, Bradley was taken back by Jenny and Dane was curious rather shy about the ideas.

“Mama! Does that mean I have to share a room with her too?” Bradley asked pointed to the girl.

“Wha’ she do?” Dane added, his vocabulary and grammar not very accurate yet.

It was silly, since Dane Bradshaw was close enough be to around less than 2 years older than her but he was curious about the situation, not wanting to share the spotlight with anyone. Same thing when for Bradley, even though he was the oldest.

Carole had to correct them saying, “No boys, you don’t have to share a room with her. And she is just a baby, so she doesn’t do much yet. But I think you guys are gonna like her a lot.”

And as always, Carole Bradshaw is correct!

Since Bradley quickly warmed up to Jenny wanting to show her everything and take the girl everywhere he went like the big brother he is to Dane. Especially when Jenny got older he got to joke around, watching over her and and play with her a lot more.

Bradley nicknamed her Jenny Penny.

Dane, since they were somewhat closer in age range per say, the two were pretty close. Dane being softer, very silly toward the girl and more importantly being protective, catching up on new things with things he learned at school and playing with her a lot of the time.

He nicknamed her JenJen.

Eventually the boys would give her the classic nickname and future callsign, JenPen.

But Jenny Mitchell wasn’t the one who got nicknames, because to her Bradley was Brad Brad and Dane was Danny Boy.

Even though as the years went on, her nicknames for them changed to Chicken and Engineer.

———

Soon enough Baby Goose, Pooh Bear, and Princess had a 4th to complete the group (hopefully)…

…Daffy Duck!

Other name being used for Austin Mitchell.

If one Mitchell kid wasn’t enough, look no more to a second one! That was another surprise that left Carole, Iceman, Audrey and Maverick himself flabbergasted at the news. But it’s wasn’t an total surprise since Maverick was known for being in the dating scene a long time, falling in and out of love with several women because the attraction was a strong thing.

Like a lot things, it never lasted too long ending up in heartbreak, loneliness and confusion, thinking it was a short fling.

But as we learned that every actions has an equal opposite reaction. That resulted in his son, in which he chuckled and sighed in awe of the little smile that entered his world. He fell in love with his kid the moment he met him.

Slider joked, “Alright, either Maverick needs to do something about the love making around here or Goose had an grand ol’ conversation about bringing four ducklings with the big man upstairs when he left?!”

Iceman glared at his best friend jokingly, “Very funny, buddy. There is no way Mother Goose had this all figured out and planned for this to happened. It was just fate!”

Maverick shut them both up carrying his son in his arms and said, “Oh shut it you two! Before we know it you’re popping out kids of your own.”

Carole smiled, “My husband wouldn’t do such a thing, even if he did I think theses were gifts. Look how cute they are!”

~~~~~

Two blondes and two brunettes, all wrapped into a cute little gift baskets from Mother Goose himself.

“Yeah no Slider’s right, Nicholas Bradshaw brought down four ducking after his departure!” Audrey added a few minutes later.

~~~~~

Austin Mitchell was a spitting imagine and reminder of his father, times 10! From his brownish-green eyes to his nose, even the floppy mess of chocolate brown locks. His smile was no different, giggling about his favorite things and moving around with so much energy that he could become the next marathon runner for god’s sake.

But like any kid here, especially a kid that belongs to Maverick Mitchell, Austin was a clumsy boy knocking into everything and getting himself stuck in troubling situations. It was cute but also kinda annoying.

“A little tornado warning should come with him.” Joked Wraith once he met the boy with a smile.

Nonetheless he was loved. Jenny was only two years old when she got her baby brother, wanting to parenting him and keep the little guy out of danger with a pout. But then again, she was also very clumsy and cheeky herself so they both ended up in a little sticky situation.

Seriously, both kids were found in the kitchen once eating one of their father’s favorite sweet treat, being honeybuns, while on the floor giggling.

Iceman snorted so loud seeing his niece and nephew happily eating the dessert that his only questions was, “How did you two get your hands on it in the first place?”

“Unca Iceee!” Austin only yelled with a little smile and sticky fingers.

“You wan’ some?” Added Jenny with the similar little smile.

Other times, Austin would be the only one brave enough for certain things, dragging Bradley along to meet new people such as when they met Wraith or Buzz for the first time. Austin scared poor Wraith with his chaotic tendencies meanwhile Buzz laughed his ass off.

Plenty of times, that chaotic charm the young boy naturally held would bring a smile to the faces he meets, like when he met Ark and Hazel. When Austin finished hanging out with Hazel, she wanted to keep this boy for herself.

…but there were some moments where Austin’s shining personality mixed with the wrong crowd.

Let’s just say Ice and Mav enrolled him into little league baseball practice for one week, but midway through that same week the coach had to call Audrey to take the kid back home. Because due to Austin’s style, tiny temper and competitive nature when his team wasn’t winning, he decide to use his baseball bat and hit one of the kids from the other team with it.

The kid went as far as to chase the other children around the field in revenge and when Audrey heard that, she couldn’t help but laugh out loud. She knew it was a bad thing and they probably had to enroll him into a different sport, but the image in her head of her nephew chasing the other kids around like a Looney Tune character was too funny.

“Yup, he was definitely Pete’s son.” She said with a smile, picking up her nephew to take him out for ice cream and a small lecture onto how it’s not nice to hit people.

Let’s just say Audrey wasn’t the only one laughing at the news that day about why Austin Mitchell might not return to baseball practice that week.

————

Speaking of Austin, since he was hopefully the last baby for now at least, they decided to set up a color coordinated system for the kids.

That meant if gifts were given, certain items were being delivered, and everyday things like cups, hats, sweaters, backpacks, socks and or etc. each child had their own version of one.

Hell, each kid had certain days set on the calendar, where they all had to do something the other wanted. Like park, mall, trips to the beach and or going to the movie theater.

It was Carole’s idea! So there were no fighting, especially since they were all so little at the time.

Bradley’s things always had a cherry red dot, cute little red label or red post it note on them. (Sometimes apple or red-orange color)

Dane’s things always had a sunny yellow dot, little yellow label or yellow post it note on them. (Sometimes bumblebee or yellow-green color)

Jenny’s things always had a rosy pink dot, little pink label or pink post it note on them. (Sometimes lilac or pink-red color)

Austin’s things always had a sky blue dot, little blue label or blue post it note on them. (Sometimes olive or blue-green color)

And honestly, it was pretty helpful at the time when they were just little kids. Since they knew once they got older, all four of them would pick certain colors to wear, act differently for types of situations and understand the concept of what is not their stuff, don’t take.

But of course like any set of children, no matter what you did or how many times you had to lecture them about a topic, they will always fight about something. Like toys, bedding, backpacks, clothes, food and things to do together.

Like when Bradley and Dane were fighting over a certain Star Wars backpack they saw at Walmart to take for back to school time.

Or when Austin and Jenny were arguing about a DC LEGO sets they both wanted to buy, Batman or Superman sets.

They were kids! You can’t prepare for everything, so the parents always stepped in making the decision for them or had to settle on a small compromise on what’s the verdict.

——

Nonetheless, they were good kids that’s what matters.

Yes, they were all different ages with vastly different views on things and personalities but that’s what makes them unique.

They care about their children way too much and thanked Goose for sending such a wonderful set of surprises and memories to come.

But the question that the adults tend to have on their minds was, how would the world handle their set of ducklings as they grow up?

What kind of experiences they will have?

Who will fall in love and who will get their heart broken?

Will there be friends or foes that come they’re way?

So many questions but only time will tell…

———

Thank you so much for reading this! 🎬 I know, it’s not exactly formatted like my other stories per say but it was an interesting way to introduce theses kids.

What was your favorite part? 💕

Please like, share and comment for more stuff like this! ✈️

Tags: @gcthvile @msrochelleromanofffelton @gaminggirlsstuff @topgun-imagines @starkleila @whitewiccan @comfortzonequeen @sherloquestea @theloveoftoms @mandylove1000 @mallowbee4 @rooster-84 @djs8891 @novavida and etc

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paperhats-and-evil-schemes · 8 months

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Lovestarved (Rewrite)

Flug couldn’t believe it. Defying all of his expectations, Black Hat actually prevented him from hurting his friends. Not only that, but kept his secret from being exposed. He had been so certain that the eldritch wanted [...], but now, with every manipulative and cruel assumption Flug had made being tossed out the window, he had no idea what to think anymore. When he next spoke, his voice was but a meek stutter. “Th-Thank you, sir...” “’Thank you’?” Black Hat repeated, a ghostly twitch of annoyance betraying his smile for just a moment. “What have I told you, Flug? Your… gratitude…” That last word was uttered with notable disgust, “… is gravely misplaced. I only—“ He was stunned into silence when Flug unexpectedly clutched his hand. “You stopped me from hurting them.” The scientist spoke more firmly in spite of how his own hands trembled. Flug dared not make eye contact, instead staring directly at the floor. “Thank you.” He had almost expected to get lashed out at or shouted at for grabbing Black Hat so suddenly, and when he realized his mistake, he immediately let go… but Black Hat did neither of those things. He just stared, expression completely blank to the point of almost being comical, at where Flug had touched him. That doesn’t happen. People don’t touch him. He touches people. On his terms. After the initial confusion wore off, his cold and calculative eyes pierced right through Flug. “… Well.” He finally spoke, flat-toned, “You can thank me by getting rid of those pests outside.”

Okay look I know the White Hat fic’s been a long time coming and I’m definitely still working on it, but oh my god the complete and utter abomination that was the original Lovestarved fic was driving me completely insane, I HAD to give it a revamp for my own peace of mind lmfao, my GOD, IT WAS SO BAD YOU GUYS IDC WHAT YOU SAY I'M SORRY SZTEFA BUT YOU'RE W R O N G LMAO

So anyway, have the not-perfect-but-still-very-much-improved fanfic of a Monster!Flug x BH slowburn in which these idiots keep idioting around each other 24/7 until things happen lol (Btw one of my mutuals recently got instabanned for merely mentioning a certain phrase, so since I’m not sure how tumblr is deciding to auto-flag posts and I don’t wanna go through the headache of having to get my account reactivated again, this post is only the first half of the fic (the safe portion lol) and then there’ll be a link to the AO3 version at the bottom of this post for when things start to get on the risqué side.)

And of course, this fic series is based on this wonderful fic right here!

Previous works in chronological order: Hired, Don’t Try to Run, Lovestarved, Trial & Trust, Deeper Than Skin, A Small Solace, In Sickness and in Health, Benefit of the Doubt, Just Another Word I Never Learned to Pronounce, Merry (Late) Christmas, Compromise

Flug had never intended for this to happen.

Never in a million years had he planned on revealing this part of him to anybody , let alone Black Hat himself. Sadly, it’s not easy to sweep the unfortunate incident of devouring a test subject right in front of him under the rug. Then again, given his boss’s nature of being able to slip into any room unnoticed, perhaps Flug should’ve prepared for such an inevitable possibility.

Oh well. Too little, too late, as some might say. At least Black Hat hadn’t reacted as negatively as Flug thought he might. On the contrary, in fact, Black Hat seemed to find Flug’s otherworldly nature quite amusing. Yet another reaction that his scientist perhaps should’ve expected to some extent.

What he never could’ve expected was the change in attitude, however.

Yes, ever since that day, Black Hat had been treating him differently. It was subtle enough that any bystander likely wouldn’t notice a difference in their relationship. But Flug definitely took notice, especially in how his superior spoke to him.

He was still his usual brash, hostile self, but every once in a while, sprinkled in between whatever myriad of scathing remarks and scoldings Flug would face on any given day (and even those had lessened significantly), Black Hat would sometimes praise him. The first time Flug heard the words “Good work” out of his boss’s mouth, he thought he’d been hallucinating, as that explanation seemed far more likely.

Furthermore, Black Hat continued to surprise Flug by not broadcasting his secret to the rest of the household. He’d been certain that his boss would’ve gotten a kick out of airing his dirty laundry for everyone to see, if only for the sole reason that Flug gravely didn’t want that. Yet, Black Hat held back. Didn’t speak a word about it to 5.0.5. or Demencia. Not that Flug would risk getting too comfortable in that regard, of course. Whatever Black Hat’s motivations may have been, it definitely wasn’t coming out of a place of respect for Flug’s privacy. Knowing his boss, he was probably just waiting for either of their housemates to walk in on him devouring someone so he could indulge in whatever chaos might unfold. Or perhaps there was some other reason that Flug hadn’t considered. He certainly knew better than to try and guess what Black Hat was thinking, regardless.

Not all of the changes in Black Hat’s behavior were so positive, though. For one thing, his unnerving fascination with Flug’s souleater half has led to some rather uncomfortable arrangements. On the one hand, Black Hat providing him with prey saves Flug the trouble of having to sneak around anymore to feed himself, but on the other, his boss had a peculiarly keen interest in watching him eat. That was already bad enough, having to put what Flug had tried so hard to keep hidden all his life on full display like that, but it was made even worse by how handsy Black Hat would sometimes get afterwards.

He had a particular fascination with Flug’s teeth. Whether or not that was out of some twisted sense of humor or out of a genuine curiosity of Flug’s species, the doctor couldn’t tell. All he knew is that it was uncomfortable. Every time those hands crinkled up the edges of that paper bag to expose his bloodied mouth, anxiety spiked within him at the mere thought of his mask being pulled off completely. Luckily for Flug, Black Hat never went that far, for the time being.

“Why do you always do that…?” He had asked once, during one upon too many fang inspections to count.

There was a click of the tongue, Black Hat tilting Flug’s chin whichever way he wanted, as he gave his unconventional answer. “The soul residue intrigues me. Besides, it's the only part of your face I’ve seen thus far. I like to admire it at its bloodiest.” Then he’d flash one of his many shit-eating grins. “Given how long you’ve hidden this from me, I certainly have the right to catch up on what I’ve been missing.”

What could he possibly have been “missing”? He knew Black Hat to enjoy displays of violence the most when they had some heart in them. Flug’s only ever been timid and reluctant in the way that he feeds, unable to understand what entertainment value Black Hat could possibly be getting out of such mediocre murders.

On one particular day, however, the situation differed.

Their domain had fallen under siege by a particularly persistent team of heroes… It would’ve been an all-out attack if Dr. Flug hadn’t activated an emergency forcefield just in time. But for now, all they could do was wait these heroes out until they came up with a proper plan of retaliation. Their anti-hero merchandise was the best there was, of course, but with the sheer amount of opponents waiting outside, the villains were put in a particularly tricky situation.

Black Hat could easily dispose of the problem, Flug knew for a fact. These heroes were mere ants to somebody with his unimaginable power. But, in typical Black Hat fashion, he chose to instead put this job on Flug and Demencia.

While Flug could understand to some extent that such matters were too trivial and boring for his boss to face head-on, he had hoped the demon would’ve made an exception in this case. This situation had cut Flug, Demencia, and 5.0.5. off from the outside world until they could find a way around those heroes, which wouldn’t be a problem if not for the fact that it left Flug without sustenance to keep his monstrous half in check.

Unfortunately for him, Black Hat found more interest in watching how his employees would tackle the problem instead. Because, for him, the slightly-more-interesting route would always be preferred over the easy way out. It’s not like the health of his underlings has ever held priority over his own amusement, so Flug had no right to be surprised. He’d just have to persevere, and he wouldn’t dare complain about his hunger to Black Hat himself. Knowing him, he’d expect Flug to earn his food under these circumstances. The way Black Hat was constantly hanging around the laboratory as he worked further cemented that idea into his mind.

Instead, he threw himself into his work as if that were an adequate distraction. He did everything he could to keep his mind busy, to keep himself distracted from anything that may lead to one of his episodes, but it was so damn hard when these hunger swings can be so unpredictable. One minute, he would be completely fine, but the next…

“Whatcha workin’ on, doc?”

Hunger making him more irritable than usual, the mere sound of Demencia’s voice had been enough to grate on his nerves these past weeks of siege. It was bad enough that his cravings were already slowing him down far too much, he didn’t need Dem’s constant pestering on top of his current inability to focus.

Shaking those concerns out of his head, he was none too kind when he answered her. “Oh, I don’t know, Demencia, maybe a solution to our little problem out there?”

Unfazed by the mockery dripping from his voice, her desire for mischief was left perfectly intact. “Oooo, is it cool? Will it blow ‘em up? Liquidize their insides? Lemme see it!”

She jumped for the flask, and Flug had barely enough reaction time within him to dodge her. “ Stop that! Do you want to get a cloud of knockout gas to the face!?” Flug barked, scrambling to keep his work from falling out of his hands. Once stabilized, he shot her a nasty glare. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”

“You’re kidding, right?” She deadpanned in response. Dramatically flopping into a nearby chair, Demencia kept up her annoying lamenting. “We’ve been stuck with those dumb heroes outside for like a week, I’m boooored.”

“Well good for you, but since I’m the only one around here that seems willing to fix this damn mess, I need to focus.” Flug snapped at her, voice raising alongside his frustration, “What I don’t need is some brain-dead halfwit breathing stupid questions down my neck the whole time!”

Demencia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at how intensely he came off. Sure, she could get on his nerves with relative ease, but he usually took it with more grace than that, even at times when he’d sic Hatbots on her. Even Black Hat glanced up from his newspaper upon hearing such unusual hostility growing in Flug, though he reserved comment.

“Ouch,” Demencia remarked, although not especially offended. “Well, sorry Mr. Grumpypants, didn’t realize you were in such a mood today.” She chided him. “You skip your coffee this morning or what?”

Narrowed eyes shot one last dirty look at her before Flug tried to shift his focus back to his concoction at the lab table. Key word being tried , because before he knew it, he was doubling over from pain when his cravings hit him full-force. He was barely able to catch himself against the table, almost knocking over the work he’d previously scolded Demencia for endangering.

Serving up a confused stare, Demencia frowned at him. “Uhh, Flug?”

The ruckus also woke 5.0.5. who’d been sleeping nearby, a worried grunt coming from him as he wandered over to see what was going on.

What Flug had feared all along was now fast approaching. This sort of thing was exactly what Black Hat wanted, wasn’t it? For him to expose himself to the others in as violent a manner as possible? And if so, then where the fuck was he? Flug could’ve sworn he was in the room a second ago, and hell, maybe he was too disoriented to know for sure, but he couldn’t see the demon anywhere.

All he could lock his starving gaze onto was Demencia and 5.0.5., the clueless pair coming foolishly closer to check on him. They’d make easy targets. They were practically offering themselves up on a silver platter. How could Flug possibly refuse the instincts that were screaming at him to eat?

“Okay, Flug, this is weird, even for you.”

For the briefest of moments, he saw his mother, so stupidly drawing nearer in his state of delirium. She should have known better. She made herself too easy of an antidote to his suffering. The exact same mistake that Demencia was making now.

He wished he could tell her to get away. He wanted desperately to warn her of what danger she was in. But he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t stop himself from inching his starving body nearer, itching to dig his teeth into something –

“Demencia, step aside.” Black Hat’s familiar voice ordered from the doorway, yielding immediate compliance from her. With adept swiftness, he strode over to the unhinged doctor and proceeded to drag him away from his coworkers before any damage could be done, exiting the laboratory with Flug in tow, and leaving Demencia and 5.0.5. to their own confusion.

Black Hat dragged him through hallways and corridors, paying no mind to his scientist’s resistance. Flug’s thrashing wasn’t particularly troublesome for Black Hat, although he felt mild surprise to experience a jolt of pain inflicted by Flug’s fangs when they tried to find nourishment in the tendrils that restrained him. Judging from the retching and gagging that followed, Black Hat’s soulless form wasn’t exactly fine dining to him.

They entered a darkened storage room, the only light source coming from a flickering bulb above that fought to stay lit. Within, there laid a hero, injured and bound in place by whatever impromptu restraints Black Hat could find in the moment.

“Eat.” Black Hat ordered as he shoved Flug towards the helpless fool.

As if Flug needed any convincing.

The second he was released from Black Hat’s grip, he lunged for the hero, tearing into him with such ruthless ferocity, ripping flesh out in bloody chunks that were strewn across the room with great fervor. The crackling and snapping of bones that’d dared get in the way of Flug’s relentless fangs was like music to Black Hat’s ears. The only way this could’ve been better was if the hero had remained alive long enough to scream.

Out of breath by the time Flug was through with him, it took almost a full minute for him to regain his composure.

“My my, what a savage display.” Black Hat purred in amusement, drawing nearer to admire the carnage. “You’ve been holding out on me, doctor.”

“W-Wha… Wait, th-this is a hero f-from outs-side, isn’t it…?” Flug queried as he came back to his senses, casting a hesitant glance his boss’s way.

“They make for easy pickings. You looked like you needed something rather immediate.” Black Hat replied, wiping bloodied claws off on his clothes. With a disapproving quirk of the brow, he added, “You could have said something sooner , by the way. It’s not like I knew where your breaking point was.”

Flug couldn’t believe it. Defying all of his expectations, Black Hat actually prevented him from hurting his friends. Not only that, but kept his secret from being exposed. He had been so certain that the eldritch wanted the drama and chaos that would’ve come with him attacking 5.0.5. or Demencia, but now, with every manipulative and cruel assumption Flug had made being tossed out the window, he had no idea what to think anymore. When he next spoke, his voice was but a meek stutter. “Th-Thank you, sir...”

“’ Thank you ’?” Black Hat repeated, a ghostly twitch of annoyance betraying his smile for just a moment. “We have been over this, doctor. Your… gratitude …” That last word was uttered with notable disgust, “… is gravely misplaced. I only—“

He was stunned into silence when Flug unexpectedly clutched his hand. “You stopped me from hurting them.” The scientist spoke more firmly in spite of how his own hands trembled against Black’s. Flug dared not make eye contact, instead staring directly at the floor. “ Thank you. ”

He had almost expected to get lashed out at or shouted at for grabbing Black Hat so suddenly, and when he realized his mistake, he immediately let go… but Black Hat did neither of those things. He just stared, expression completely blank to the point of almost being comical, at where Flug had touched him. That doesn’t happen. People don’t touch him. He touches people. On his terms.

After the initial confusion wore off, his cold and calculative eyes pierced right through Flug. “… Well.” He finally spoke, his voice flat and rigid, “You can thank me by getting rid of those pests outside.”

With that, the demon took his leave. Flug watched him go, blinking slowly as he tried to process what just happened…

… No. He can think about this later. For now, he had an order to carry out.

After cleaning himself up and changing out of his bloodsoaked clothes, Flug returned to the lab with newfound energy and determination. He threw himself at his experiment with ultimate focus, not allowing Demencia or even Black Hat’s presence distract him, despite how intently the latter was watching him.

Flug completed the substance within the hour, and it did not disappoint. Everything went according to plan. Firing the gas bomb at their intruders did the trick, knocking them out just long enough for Demencia to dispose of them without a single issue.

When all was said and done, Black Hat approached the doctor from behind as he disarmed the forcefield, causing him to jump in surprise when the demon patted his shoulder. “Well done, doctor.” He said simply before walking off.

All Flug could do was stare as he left, completely befuddled.

He had always craved Black Hat’s praise, but now that he’d been getting it, it felt beyond impossible to get used to.

The strange behavior, the way he kept lingering about the lab for no discernable reason other than to watch him, how he’d been keeping Flug’s diet in check, it was all just so… bizarre. Flug racked his brain day in and day out trying to solve this mystery, but nothing ever felt like it made sense. It couldn’t be coming from a place of respect, as he knew Black Hat was incapable of respecting him. He doubted it was coming from a place of any sort of concern, as nothing about their routine had actually changed. If anything, Flug was more healthy than usual these days due to Black Hat’s assistance in keeping him properly fed.

Perhaps it was something more akin to keeping a pet. Of course, that must be it. Black Hat likely had him lumped in the same category as Lil Jack these days, just a pet to feed and maintain.

While that dehumanizing assumption made the most sense so far, Flug still couldn’t be sure…

One day, curiosity finally got the better of him. He knew he should know better than to question Black Hat, but he just couldn’t help himself this time.

It was on another day that, as was becoming usual, Black Hat had joined him in the laboratory, overseeing his work from a distance. Flug couldn’t actually be sure how much Black Hat was actually paying attention to the invention he was building, but he worked as diligently as he could under his boss’s silent supervision all the same.

A handray of sorts laid in pieces on the table while the doctor fiddled a screwdriver inside the mechanism. Black Hat had taken to leaning against the wall by the door, not a word spoken by him this whole time.

Flug nervously glanced back at him for a moment, quickly averting his eyes back to the device when he was caught staring. Finally, he forced himself to say it. “… Y-You’ve been… a-acting strangely since you first saw me feed, sir…”

“Strangely?” Black Hat’s cold voice repeated, examining his claws without a care in the world. “What are you implying?”

That ice, that frosty and bitter manner in which his boss spoke, had always rattled Flug’s nerves. It was almost enough to discourage him entirely from completing his train of thought, but he knew that would likely annoy Black Hat even more. He put his screwdriver down, turning to face the demon. “W-w-well, it’s, u-um… er…”

“Out with it, doctor.” Black Hat snapped impatiently. He cast the other man a challenging stare, as though daring him to say something he’ll regret.

At this, Flug hesitated. A lump had started forming in his throat, preventing him from speaking. Black Hat’s glare was definitely making the doctor have second thoughts about saying anything at all. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to speak through his discomfort. “Y-You’ve been treating me differently.”

Black Hat’s visible eye slowly narrowed, but he decided to amuse his doctor. “Oh really? How so?” He said in a sort of sarcastic, dry tone, taking a step forward.

No backing down now. Straightening his back, Flug tried very hard not to flinch away at his boss’s advances. “Well…” He began, fiddling with his hands, “You’ve been, um… H-How do I put this… nicer …?”

That was a big mistake the moment he said it, Flug’s eyes going wide once he realized his mistake far too late. Rage flashed across Black Hat’s face, the demon’s familiar growl ringing through Flug’s ears as he came closer. Flinching back and shielding his face with an arm, Flug almost fell over the table behind him as he tried to back away. “W-W-Wait, I didn’t m-mean it like tha–!” He cut himself off with a fearful yelp as Black Hat yanked him forward by the neck of his shirt, his threatening form towering over the doctor.

“How did you mean it , then?” Black Hat snarled, voice dripping with a biting venom.

“Y-You’ve been acting like you think I have more worth now!” Flug squeaked, hiding his face behind his arms with eyes squeezed shut, a clear exasperation lingering among the fear in his words. “Like because I’m half monster, that changes things!”

Expecting to get pummeled in the next few seconds, it was to Flug’s great surprise that Black Hat let him go. Risking a timid peek at his boss, his jaw almost dropped. Why was he laughing all of a sudden?

“Of course it changes things!” Blackhat grinned, as though it were ridiculous for Flug to suggest otherwise. For some reason, that prickled at Flug’s nerves. “Now that I’ve seen what you are– ”

“What I am doesn’t change anything! I’m still the same Flug I’ve always been!”

In a moment of surprise, Black Hat’s grin faltered. He’d never heard Flug take such a tone with him before, nor had he seen that particular look of frustration, dressed with hints of defiance, within Flug’s eyes.

“Have you been basing my value on species this whole time?” The scientist went on, irritation building, “What, I’m suddenly worth more to you just because I’m less human? Is that why you haven’t been kicking me around as much? Are you seriously that shallow?” With a scoff, Flug looked away, brows furrowed in anger. “If my being a human really disgusted you that much, I don’t get why you haven’t just replaced me with someone more your style.”

There was a tense moment of silence between them, although the tension was likely only on Flug’s side. Eventually, Black Hat spoke again.

“I believe that’s the first time you’ve dared to raise your voice at me, doctor.”

… Wait…

Shit.

“I’m sorry…!” He squeaked in fear, cringing away from Black Hat in anticipation of being struck. Realization of how badly he screwed up hit him like a semi truck, and he scrambled over his words trying to do damage control in whatever way he could. “I-I don’t know w-what c-came over me! I-I’m v- very sorry, sir…!”

No violence came his way, however. Instead, Black Hat eyed him with what Flug could only describe as intrigue. His head tilted a smidge to the side, not unlike that of a curious animal. When he next spoke, it was with a kind of guileless tone completely foreign to Flug’s ears. “I have always valued you, Flug.”

A disbelieving snort escaped Flug before he had the chance to stop it, slapping a hand over his mouth the second such a disrespectful noise had come out. How or why Black Hat hadn’t lashed out at him yet, Flug had no idea.

“You think I would have hired some annoying, sniveling little human if you weren’t of significant value to me? I know you’re smarter than that, doctor.” He drew closer, much to Flug’s discomfort. “In spite of what a pitiful sight you made, it was your intelligence that’d far made up for that. Your intelligence, your dedication, your perseverance, I have seen it all. From the day I met you, I knew your talents were exceptional.”

Baffled by such claims, Flug could do nothing more than stare in disbelief as his boss spoke.

“You impressed me that day, Dr. Flug. I can count on one hand the number of humans that’ve accomplished such a feat.” He went on, circling Flug to admire the work he had laid out on the table. “Humans are one of the most irritating and pathetic species I’ve ever come across in all my years. To have ended up relying on one for the sake of my business has been no less than a major frustration to me. Without you, who the hell do you think would be making all of our products?”

“I-I-” Flug started to speak, but was quickly silenced by the raise of Black Hat’s hand. Clearly, he had more to say.

“In a way, you’re not wrong. It does please me knowing that you’re not entirely human. You are something better. But, you’ve always been better than other humans in my eyes.” When he next turned to face Flug, it was with a narrow-eyed stare on his face. “So, don’t you dare suggest that I haven’t valued you until now. If that were true, I’d have left you dead in that alley all those years ago.”

At that moment, Flug had been rendered speechless. This was the first time Black Hat’s ever verbalized any sort of appreciation for Flug’s work, especially in such a direct manner. He almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing, tempted to reach out and poke the eldritch to make sure it was actually him and not some sort of caffeine hallucination.

Instead, he averted his eyes. As comforting as that was to hear, it didn’t change the main problem.

“You don’t treat your valuables very well, then.” Flug’s hesitant voice spoke up.

With a boisterous laugh, Blackhat twirled his cane idly. “So what? That’s of no consequence to me.”

“You seem to forget that I’m breakable, sir. It is a consequence if I decide to leave.” If he really is as valuable as Black Hat says... Looking away, he muttered under his breath, “It’s definitely something I’ve considered.”

That came as no surprise to Black Hat. He’s seen the collection of house and apartment ads the doctor’s compiled and occasionally glanced through when his boss’s temper was especially testy. But surely he’d never actually go through with leaving. Not after all the work he put in to get here. It would be absurd.

Not paying the comment much mind, Black Hat decided he was done with this conversation and headed for the door. “Get that ray done. We start filming in two hours.”

Such dismissive behavior was what Flug was used to letting roll off his back. But, this time, it felt like it didn’t matter at all compared to the other things his boss had said.

It was beyond reassuring to know that Black Hat found him important for what really mattered. There had been many a day where Flug had wondered if all of his efforts were actually counting for anything, in that regard.

Now, he won’t have to wonder.

Something new to wonder about, however, was why this conversation had left him feeling so flustered …

Their uncharacteristically genuine conversation didn’t mean everything was sunshine and daisies, of course. After all, This is the house of evil. Can’t expect much else. What Flug was used to was being yelled at. Though there was one recent incident in particular that had been… strange.

As usual, Black Hat was eager to advertise anti-hero merchandise to their viewers. The demon rarely ever began recording early without first informing Flug, but today was, unfortunately, one of those days. He already had Cam-bot recording before Flug was even in the room. It’s not like he needed Flug there, anyways, so he just went ahead and started without him. The product seemed simple enough, some kind of fireball launcher of sorts.

Black Hat was well into the presentation by the time Flug had gotten there. The doctor had appeared somewhat rushed, and was carrying with him a toolbox.

His eyes widened with terror when he entered the room to see his boss already wielding the product.

“… and with just the click of a button, your local hero will be enveloped in a Hellish blaze!” Black Hat took aim at a target across the room.

“Sir, no!” Flug shouted, darting towards him, “There’s a chemical imbalance that still needs to be–!”

Too late.

There was a flash, then a blast of intense heat as the weapon backfired. Cam-bot went toppling over sideways, making a series of distressed beeping noises, and Black Hat let out a startled snarl as his arm was blown clean off. That wasn’t too much of a concern, however, as a stream of inky black energy quickly formed a new one.

He wheeled around, eyes blazing with rage as he faced the now-shivering Flug. “You IDIOT!!!” He roared, storming over to the scientist and roughly gripping his arm. “Is your job to have our products ready in time or IS IT NOT!?”

“I-I-I’m sorry….!” Flug yelped, cowering. “I-I thought I h-had more time…! I just needed to make one minor adjustmen–” He cut himself off with a pained outcry as Black Hat’s grip tightened, near threatening to break his arm.

“I don’t want to hear EXCUSES, YOU BLOODY– You…” Black Hat trailed off, a whisper of that recent conversation with the doctor echoing in his head.

You don’t treat your valuables very well.

You seem to forget that I’m breakable.

Staring over the terrified doctor now, the way he immediately expected the worst, something felt… off. Black Hat was the one that decided to start early and without Flug’s knowledge… but that still shouldn’t excuse not having it ready before the deadline, so–!

“Sir…?” Flug’s voice, tiny and horrified as it may have been, managed to shake Black Hat out of his thoughts. Fearful eyes gazed up at him with a hint of confusion on top of the pain. Very slowly, Black Hat loosened his grip, then let go altogether and took a step back.

Flug stepped back as well at the first chance he got, gripping his hurt arm close to himself. He gave a puzzled frown. “S-Sir…. are you…. alright….?”

… How could he be asking that? It seemed so… backwards.

… It doesn’t matter.

“Get this mess cleaned up…” Black Hat finally said, his voice unusually low, “… and fix that infernal Cam-bot…”

Then, he was gone before Flug could even reply.

Watching the door close behind his boss, Flug winced as he rubbed his arm. Sighing, he picked up the dropped toolbox and turned to Cam-bot. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then…”

A flood of blood trickled down the now-lifeless body and onto the floor, Flug’s shaking arm wiping away what dribbled from his chin. With a chunk of neck completely missing from the corpse on the operation table in front of him, it was leaving quite the mess. The doctor tentatively reached up to pull his paper bag back down and cover his mouth, but Black Hat’s cane pulled his arm away before he could. Flug squirmed slightly beneath his boss’s touch as he lifted his chin , discomfort setting in him, but Black Hat paid that no mind.

A gloved thumb lightly grazing across the edge of Flug’s fangs, Black Hat’s expression was oddly monotone today. “… So, tell me.” He said suddenly. “If I’m so unbearable to live with, why do you stick around?”

“S-Sir….?” Flug responded, caught off guard by the question.

“You’re not being forced to stay here.” The eldritch went on. “You said yourself that you’ve considered leaving. Many other villains would be glad to take you. So why do you stay?”

Flug was quiet for a long moment, considering what he should say. Truly, there was only one right answer. “… B-Because the other villains aren’t you.”

At that, Black Hat paused, a twitch of surprise on his features for a second. Then, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Elaborate.”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Flug started to fiddle with the sleeves of his labcoat. “W-W-Well, um… I-I mean, you’re… successful, c-confident, accomplished…” Oh gosh, why did he have to be listing off things he admires about his boss while they were in this position? Hardly any distance between them, and Black Hat leaned in closer with every word! Swallowing again, he tried not to get too flustered as he continued, “I-It’s just… well, you’re Black Hat. You’re one of a k-kind, the best there is. I don’t– I-I refuse to settle for less than the best.” Sheepishly, he looked to the ground, voice quieting. “You’re everything I’m not.”

Silent for quite some time, Black Hat found he was only able to give Flug a dumbfounded stare. The demon’s never had a tendency for modesty, for Flug to be so upfront about both his admirations and insecurities felt strange as can be. It was a combination that Flug likely never would’ve spoken aloud if left unprompted. Then, a smile began to form on Black Hat’s face. “Well, aren’t you the little ego-booster.” He purred, chuckling. “Although…” Stepping back and rubbing his chin in thought, Black Hat tilted his head and looked Flug up and down. “For one thing, if it’s something like confidence you’re wanting improvements on, you really shouldn’t spend your time hiding underneath that paper bag.”

Flinching back, Flug subconsciously ran his fingers across the edge of the bag. “N-N-No. I-I need it.”

“… Tsk. Fine, then. But still, I am curious…” Taking a step forward again, Black Hat brushed at the paper bag with his fingers. Flug jolted back before he could get a proper grip, almost tumbling over the body table in the process. Black Hat simply reached out with his cane, hooked it around Flug’s neck, and yanked him forward. With the other hand, he reached for the bag again.

“No!” In a panic, the trembling scientist grabbed his arm with both hands in an attempt to stop him, eyes squeezed shut.

Surprisingly, Black Hat did stop.

Flug hesitantly opened one eye to evaluate the situation. Black Hat was staring at where Flug had gripped him, same dumbfounded expression on his face as from the last time Flug touched him.

Slowly letting go, hoping that he wouldn’t try to remove the bag again, Flug frowned. “… U-Um… sir… I-If you don’t mind my asking…. W-Why is it you look so… bewildered … when I do that…?”

“Hmph,” Black Hat pulled his arm back after being let go, absentmindedly rubbing the spot he had been grabbed. He tried to cover up the bewilderment with a sly smile. “Maybe because the only time people ever dare to touch me is when we’re fighting or having sex. Why else?”

…. Flug chose to ignore that second part. His frown deepened, a touch of his own bewilderment setting in. “… So you’ve… never been, like… just… casually or platonically touched…?”

Black Hat took a moment to think about it, looking off to the side. He couldn’t recall any instances of such a thing, aside from maybe shaking hands with clients, if that were to count? But those were more like business obligations rather than anything casual or platonic. “Hmm… No, never.” He eventually concluded. His eyes narrowed just slightly when they pulled back towards Flug. “Well, unless we count you.”

Normally Flug might’ve winced away in response to the slow return of hostility in Black Hat, but he was just… too flabbergasted. The concept of going through life without that ever happening seemed so farfetched for some reason, but he supposed if you’re a guy like Black Hat, maybe it’s plausible…..?

After a long moment’s thought, he hesitantly reached out a hand, pausing near Black Hat’s right shoulder as he examined his boss’s face for permission.

Black Hat’s eyes further narrowed with skepticism at the gesture, but he made no protest. So, Flug continued. His skeptical gaze followed Flug’s hand all the way until it had made contact with his shoulder.

It was strange, how all the malice slowly drained from his boss’s face upon contact. The look in his eyes was no longer one of hostility, but rather, curiosity. Perhaps a touch of confusion, but mostly a genuine sort of curiosity that was, in a way, almost innocent-looking. It was a rather strange expression on him, Flug finding himself unable to look away until Black Hat’s questioning pupils darted to Flug’s own face, wondering why he had gone so still.

Quickly averting his eyes, Flug went back to what he was doing. Very slowly, he ran his hand down the demon’s arm, as if he were simply smoothing out the fabric of his sleeve. Gentle, yet so impactful. If he wasn’t mistaken, he could’ve sworn he felt the slightest shiver from his boss as he had done so. Another sneaking glance to Black Hat’s face confirmed that he was just as confused as Flug was about the whole thing.

Slowly still, Flug raised his other hand to meet Black Hat’s chest, just letting it rest there for a while. Then, as if snapped out of a trance, Flug realized all at once how weird this must be getting and jolted backwards, the sudden movement even startling Black Hat a tiny bit.

“I-I… um… s-sorry, sir…” There Flug was, getting all flustered again. Why the hell did these strange interactions with his boss keep stirring up such confusing butterflies in the pit of his stomach?

Black Hat raised an eyebrow slightly, but other than that, his expression remained vaguely passive. He ran his own fingers along where Flug had touched him, quiet for some time. Then, his familiar smile crept back along his face as he looked back towards the doctor. “Seems only fair that I’d get to look beneath that bag of yours now, doesn’t it?”

Crap. Flug was hoping he’d forgotten about that. His gaze fell to the floor, accepting defeat with a very hesitant nod. “I-I-I s-sup-ppose so, s-sir…” He stammered, anxiety quickly on the rise.

A victorious purr rumbled in Black Hat’s throat, and he closed the space between himself and his scientist. Hands once again meeting the bottom of Flug’s paper bag, he took unusual care in how he lifted both the bag and goggles off of his face. As soon as those harsh white lights from the room’s fluorescent bulbs hit Flug’s eyes, a sharp yelp left his throat, and he threw his face in his hands to hide.

“Seriously, Flug?” Black Hat deadpanned, unimpressed.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry. It’s t-too b-bright.” He stuttered, unable to stop trembling.

There was a moment of silence before Flug heard his boss’s voice again. “Open your eyes, doctor.”

Already feeling dizzy and anxious without the comfort of his bag, the thought of being made to endure such harsh lights on top of that was too overwhelming to handle. But the thought of angering Black Hat frightened him even more. So, he fought back every instinct that screamed at him to protect his eyes, stifled whatever stressful noises tried to escape him, and lowered his hands.

To Flug’s surprise, rather than the headache-inducing brightness he was expecting, he was greeted with a well-dimmed room, black smoke swirling above them to significantly dull the lights. No doubt compliments of Black Hat.

View of his scientist no longer obstructed, the wide-grinning demon took hold of Flug’s chin, lifting his head to get a better look. He could feel the halfling swallow nervously, but was too focused on taking in his appearance to notice or comment. Honestly, Flug looked like any normal human being if you looked past the eyes and teeth.

But Black Hat didn’t. He was especially focused on those eyes, this being the first time he’s ever actually seen them goggle-free.

Flug’s eyes were without a doubt attention-grabbing. Where a human’s eyes would normally be white, Flug’s were an abyss of pitch-black, glowing white pupils being the only contrast to exist within.

“Captivating…” Black Hat commented under his breath. While the comment was not specifically addressed for Flug, he certainly reacted to it, feeling an intense heat rise to his cheeks. His boss definitely took notice of that, smirk widening in response.

Embarrassed and feeling like he was going to pass out, Flug quickly grasped for his bag and pulled away from Black Hat, struggling to pull it over his head again through short and shaky breaths.

Evidently, having the bag and goggles was a comfort thing as well as an eye protection thing.

Satisfied, Black Hat gave a firm nod and turned for the door, smoke dissipating with a snap of his fingers. “Clean up your mess and get back to work.” He ordered as he left.

Flug had to take a moment to regain himself, doing everything he could to calm his nerves. With the combination of deep breaths and counting numbers in his head to refocus, the doctor slowly but surely found his composure again.

That was… quite the experience… Almost surreal ….

Placing a hand on the side of his head in confusion, Flug shook it off and went to take care of the body. The entire experience didn’t stop running through his head the whole while.

There were no words Flug had that could describe how their altered relationship had continued to shift and morph since then.

Flug first noticed it with the way Black Hat’s eyes studied him, bore through him right to the bone and stripped his soul bare. There lived no mordacity or annoyance behind his constant gazes, which was unnervingly strange in and of itself. Worse was that Flug couldn’t tell what Black Hat was looking at him with. Was it condescension? It didn’t feel like something that negative... Maybe… curiosity? Interest? But interest in what? No matter what explanation his mind tried to present, Flug knew there was something he had to be missing. Something he wasn’t seeing.

The mystery was only made harder to solve by the way Black Hat would touch him. In the past, the only form of physical contact they’d ever shared was aggressive in nature, as Black Hat had a nasty habit of manhandling anybody nearby in his moments of explosive rage. As such, it was hard not to flinch when the demon would put his hands on him. But, especially after that unusual encounter they’d had, his touches have become shockingly gentle.

What were once brief pats on the back became lingering touches, claws tracing temperate lines along his meek frame, a hand resting on his shoulder just a bit too long… He’d also just stand far closer than usual whenever they were going over work projects together. Flug thought for a moment that perhaps all this time spent around Black Hat’s eldritch presence was finally driving him insane, but there was no way that he could be imagining these things. Out of all things for his mind to try and play tricks with, why something like this?

Furthermore, as someone who’s always enjoyed his alone time, Flug simply couldn’t wrap his head around why Black Hat kept joining him in the lab for the most benign of times. Even today, all he was doing was reading a newspaper with his morning acid, something he usually did in the comfort of his own office.

Occasional glances in his boss’s direction yielded the same results, those strange stares that made Flug feel so vulnerable being aimed back at him every now and then. He tried to focus on his work, to throw himself into his invention to distract from the outside world as usual, but his rattled nerves simply refused to let him do that today.

The next time he found his boss staring, Flug put down his tools, confronting the issue with a meek question.

“A-Are you ups-set with me?”

A glimmer of curiosity passed through Black Hat’s eyes. He put his newspaper down, that unnerving gaze completely honed in on his scientist. “What makes you think I’m upset with you?”

“W-Well, it’s… uh… I-I don’t kn-know, you’ve just b-been kind of…” Flinching slightly as Black Hat rose from his seat to approach him, Flug greatly struggled to finish that thought, looking all around the lab to avoid any sort of eye contact. “Y-y-you’ve b-been s-st- staring a l-lot lately, a-a-and, um–” He backed up as his boss got closer, just barely catching himself when he knocked into the table behind him, “A-and th-the t- touching … I-I just d-don’t u-und-derstand w-what–”

Flug’s stuttering was cut short when Black Hat took the side of his face into his hand, turning the scientist’s head to make their eyes meet.

“Tell me, doctor,” Black Hat purred, “Do I look upset to you?”

“N-n-no…?” Flug squeaked in response.

“There is your answer.” His head lolled to the side, studying Flug far too closely for comfort. His hand slinked down from Flug's face, the doctor withdrawing a sharp breath as deadly claws traced along his neck before finding its new resting place on his shoulder. “Does it bother you when I touch you?”

“W-Would it m-mat-tter if it d-did…?”

The way Black Hat narrowed his eyes at him, the hints of an annoyed frown starting to tug at his lips, quickly startled Flug into correcting his behavior. He straightened his back, answering the question directly this time. “N-no sir, it’s n-no bother.”

Just like that, Black Hat seemed to relax again. “Good.” He pulled his hand away, returning to the couch to pick up his newspaper. “You look like you’re having trouble focusing, so I suppose I’ll leave you to it for now.”

And, just like that, he was gone.

That… did not answer any of Flug’s questions.

Honestly, it was likely in Flug’s better judgment to stop questioning these changes in behavior to Black Hat’s face. Confusing as their new dynamic may have been, at least it was better than getting thrown around like a ragdoll on a near-daily basis.

That wasn’t the way Black Hat saw it, however.

The way Black Hat saw it, all of this peculiar behavior had been a simple case of testing the waters. Unfortunately, his next move would be one Flug could’ve never prepared for.

Aaaand here’s where things get a little tumblr-unsafe, so to the AO3 void you go! (Please heed the warning tags over there)

#villainos #villainous #paperhat #black hat #flug #demencia #505 #OP #fanfiction #my writing #now watch as this has like 20 mistakes i missed LMAO

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the-lady-amphitrite · 25 days

Text

— DREAMS OF FOREVER | chapter 2

a world so full of broken hearts

pairing: Avenger!Loki / f!Avenger!Reader word count: 2,395 summary: The "You found me and gave me your hand" chapter in this chapter: this chapter opens with anxiety and some crying, mentions of The Blip and trying to return to a normal life after The Blip, a moment of Loki being soft and reassuring, i think this chapter technically makes this a strangers to lovers fanfic author notes: @sarahscribbles's didn't believe me when i said i could post another chapter of one of my fics today. unfortunately for her, this one has been sitting around finished while i work on future chapters and A Fairytale Beginning. naturally, i had to (lovingly) spite her and prove her wrong. so, enjoy the new chapter! also, if any of you were waiting patiently for the proposal… i'm gonna tell you now that you'll have to wait more. welcome to the flashback era of this fic! you all will hate me before we return to the proposal era (warning)

( previous chapter | read on ao3 | series masterlist )

THEN, AUGUST 5TH, 2023; AVENGERS TOWER, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

The door to the bathroom swings shut behind you, the sounds of the gala immediately dimming to a whisper of noise. It’s quiet in here. The quick clack of your shoes against the tile are thunderous in comparison.

You need a few minutes away from all of that. A few minutes of quiet to pull yourself back together.

You lay your hands against the sink counter, leaning into it. Closing your eyes, you take deep, slow breaths to calm your shaking hands and sprinting heartbeat. Words spoken so blithely near you echo in your ears. It’s a struggle to push them down, to not let the hungry maw of haunting loss that nips at your heels so relentlessly swallow you like a minnow.

Try as you might though, the tears come.

One by one, they splatter on the counter. You refuse to wipe your eyes. No matter how much you want to rid yourself of the evidence of these cracks you can’t. The chance of smearing your makeup, of making it obvious how hard you broke while in this bathroom, is too great for you to even consider it for more than a second.

You’ve held yourself together so well since joining with the branch of Avengers based in New York City. Three months and ten days — or something close to that. You honestly lost count of the days during your first month. All you’ve known since you joined this team is how to keep yourself busy. It's made falling asleep easier. Kept you from turning too many thoughts over when you could barely do more than fall into your bed and pass out each night.

Vines of your power slither and tighten through your whole body. Squeezing and puncturing, just like the thorny vines you favour in combat. Your fingers curl harshly against the counter's edge. Gripping it desperately as you try to swallow back the tears and the heavy ache in your chest.

In the five years you were Blipped, so many things changed. Friends, acquaintances, a situationship; practically all of it was gone in the blink of an eye for you. Your situationship moved on with her life the best she could after you were dusted. The friends and acquaintances who remained left to chase whatever life they could cling to in the aftermath of the Blip. Your room at Xavier’s school even became a tomb to the person everyone chose to remember you as — a shadow, a far cry from who you truly are.

Losing each bit of your life left you with too many questions, and too many what if?’s. You’ve become haunted by those five years in a way those who remained weren’t.

A piece of you hopes desperately you aren’t the only one who is.

There’s a brief swell of sound from the bathroom door opening. Panic surges through you in that exact moment. Your head whips up, and you catch sight of your eyes. Wide, glassy, and tinged red from tears. It’s a sight that locks you in place, preventing you from hiding in one of the stalls before a woman in a dark green suit walks around the corner.

Her suit is cut well to her figure, and there’s a flash of a black shirt beneath the jacket. Her black hair is pulled into a high, sleek ponytail, showing off the dangling golden earrings that flash against the bathroom lights. She’s looking down at her phone with a scowl though, thumbs flying across the keyboard as she hammers out some message. For a split second, you think she might bypass you entirely without noticing. Then, her eyes flick up from her phone mid-typing and briefly lock with yours in the mirror.

You tear your gaze away instantly. Barely more than a few horrific seconds pass before she's at your side. You tense, and then you see a handkerchief extended to you.

"They really are quite nasty, are they not?" You don't take the handkerchief, but you do look at her, not understanding what she means. A small, gentle smile decorates lips painted charcoal and ink before she elaborates. "The ones here who did none of the fighting to save the universe. They believe money and influence will save them by throwing it at us, but many of them wouldn't even consider lifting a finger to truly help. The rest would balk at the first true sign of danger to their lives.”

“How did you…?”

She lifts the handkerchief a tad and brings her other hand up towards your chin. A silent question, one that you nod your answer to.

Her fingers are gentle as she grips your chin, her green eyes focused as she slowly dabs away the tears on your face.

“Know you helped save the universe?” Her eyes lock onto yours again for just a brief second, then look down. “For one, you wear one of those ridiculous pins Anthony insisted we all wear for this event.”

Ah. You’d looped yours onto a necklace chain, unable to come up with an idea of where to put it on your dress. You take the pin between your fingers, feeling the solid weight of it and the barely-there way the chain digs at the sides of your neck.

“And… for two?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, darling, but you don’t look like you belong out there.” Her hand disappears from your chin, and she draws back, placing her handkerchief on the counter. Before the feelings inside you can burn and churn for too many seconds, she continues speaking.

“I don’t mean outwardly. Your dress, your hair, your makeup, your jewellery; it all fits the part of appearing to be one of them. I mean here.” She gestures to her mouth. “You do not speak as they do.”

Your not sure what compels you to raise an eyebrow and ask her in a sharp tone, “And you do?”

She flashes a razor-sharp smile at you in return, one that sends goosebumps racing up your arms. “I’ve played their game of tongues far longer than I care to recall.”

When she doesn’t elaborate, you let it drop. Though you search your memories desperately to remember what her name might be, you can’t recall it. You can’t even remember what all the different pins mean, though you know they were designed to indicate what branch of the Avengers everyone operates from.

Yours is silver, and features the Tower’s windows etched in the A’s left side — one of the few that has a more obvious connotation for its branch. Her pin isn’t silver, it’s black. And where the etched point of an arrow on the A is for yours, hers has an hourglass instead. You can’t recall seeing such a design worn by anyone else, and it makes you wonder how far she travelled to come to tonight’s event.

“Were you Blipped?” The question falls from suddenly your lips, unbidden. The heaviness of what drove you in here still lingers and chokes your limbs. It’s quieter than before, but you can still feel it slipping through your veins and shaking your fingers.

Her face falls, and her eyes focus on nothing. She looks away and stares at the mirror, but you can tell she’s not seeing anything in it.

“No.” There’s a melancholic ache to the woman’s words. “But my brother was.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, your response almost reflexive. You know from others that being left behind, being left with nothing more than dust and memories, was horrific. In many, different ways, it’s just like being dusted has left you feeling. “Is he safe now?”

“Yes,” is her quick, obviously relieved reply. She turns back to you, all sharp green eyes and a pleasant smile — though there’s a tightness to it now. A wall meant to shut you out, erected right before your eyes. It hurts in a way; you think it shouldn’t. The two of you are strangers to the other, after all. “We’re all safer, now that the Mad Titan and his allies are vanquished. It will not be the last cosmic threat this planet faces, but none have quite the… ambitions that he did.”

It clicks then — she must be one of the aliens you’ve heard helped the Avengers during the Blip. The ones who come and go in that orange spaceship that you’ve seen on the Tower’s helipad before. You’d seen a few members of the group itself from afar earlier, as the various branches of Avengers trickled in. With all the mingling you’ve had to do since you arrived, you hadn’t managed to make it around enough of the room to be formally introduced yet.

“What’s it like? Up there I mean?”

“It’s different. Quite different, really.” When you respond with only a tilt of your head, her eyebrows raise. Like she wasn’t expecting for you to let her explain. Her lips quirk up even more for a brief moment, and then she extends her arm for you to take.

You do so without any hesitation, letting her lead you out of the bathroom and back to the gala. She steers you past everyone else, headed straight for the wall of windows that overlook the blazing skyline of New York City at night. Only then does she unloop her arm from yours. She presses her fingertips together and then spreads her hands in a way you understand is meant as a gesture at everything beyond the window. “Think of what you know about how your realm works, and then simply imagine it on a galactic scale. Much of it translates across species, though not always a simple one-to-one.”

You listen as she explains (in very basic terms) what she means by this. Most of it goes over your head, but listening to her is a welcome distraction. Even without understanding everything she’s saying, you understand that she’s seen so much more of the universe than you ever thought exists.

The gala behind you continues on, but the two of you are left alone in peace as the beautiful stranger speaks. She pantomimes with elegant sweeps of her hands to emphasise different points, drawing your eyes to them again and again as they move. Her mouth moves in dancing lines, folding letters together to help you understand everything she speaks of. Those soft green eyes of hers move between you, the world outside, and back, again and again throughout. And she stills whenever you ask something before answering.

You are captivated by her.

It’s in the middle of explaining something about flying cat mounts on a planet called Vanaheimr that she suddenly stops speaking. Your eyes were on her hands again, and though they jump back to her face quickly, they jump right back when you see her reach into her suit pocket. She pulls out her phone, looking at the screen with something akin to annoyance. It morphs into an apologetic smile as she looks up at you. You know without her telling you that this conversation has come to an abrupt end.

“It’s my brother.”

You want to linger. Something in you longs to stay here, in this moment. But you can't. So you smile at her in return, stepping away towards the bustling floor where everyone is laughing and speaking.

“I should go mingle with the others for a bit. It was nice meeting you.”

“And you as well.”

You turn away, moving through the crowd until you find the familiar face of Nathaniel Richards. He’s one of the Avengers who has permanent residency here in the Tower, just as you and a few others do. He also happens to be the one who invited you to become a member in the first place.

It's only as Nathaniel's asking where you wandered off to that you realise you never got the beautiful strangers name. Something in you deflates at the realisation, turns to yearning as you wish you'd remembered to ask her for it.

You don't remember ever giving her your name either.

“Thorn?” Nathaniel’s voice draws you from the yearning that’s scratching at the corners of your heart.

You raise an eyebrow at him, only somewhat surprised he’s calling you by your hero identity rather than your civilian one. “Yeah, Iron Lad?”

“You alright?”

Your index finger taps against your drink, giving him a smile as you nod. “I’m fine. Just… thinking about something someone said to me once.”

Nathaniel doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he nods, returning to the conversation with the others. He’s not one to pry unnecessarily with you; it’s one of the things you like about him.

You think he doesn’t pry not because he doesn’t care, but because he trusts that you (and the others as well) will come to him, Kate, or Elijah if there was something serious you need to discuss. It’s nice, having them trust you like this. It’s been this way ever since the day you showed up at the Tower looking for an escape from the tomb of Xavier’s School.

When finally you peel yourself away from Nathaniel and the others close to an hour later, you turn to seeking out the beautiful stranger. Moving around the room to chat with a few other Avengers and mingle with guests, you try your best to find her. Every time you excuse yourself from a conversation, you look around, trying to find her. You even spend half an hour sitting at the open bar while you people-watch everyone.

There’s no sign of her the rest of the night.

When you finally leave the gala to head upstairs to your room, it’s sometime past two in the morning. All your attempts to find the beautiful stranger failed. It leaves you with an ache in your chest, a sense that you’ve missed something quite unlike what you’ve felt since the Blip’s abrupt end. Something that, if you’d had the chance or the time, might have bloomed beautifully.

You collapse into bed not long after the clock ticks past 3am. Exhaustion fills every bit of your body, but even now that beautiful stranger lingers at the forefront of your thoughts.

Somehow you don’t dream of eyes the colour of spring grass, or hair dark as a raven’s wing. At least for that night.

@ladydracona @huntress-artemiss @sarahscribbles @mischief2sarawr @pbs-theundeadmaggot @loki-cees-all @infinitystoner

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one-flower-one-sword · 2 months

Note

Hello! I’m new to your blog so it’s possible you may have shared similar thoughts. I recently finished the novel and just wanted to share some random thoughts. :-D Did you figure out Hua Cheng was Wu Ming before the novel revealed it? I was spoiled on this before reading and so saw the hints leading up to it. I don't know if I would have figured it out beforehand, but I just think it's interesting seeing some of the hints. One being when Hua Cheng and Xie Lian were running on the rooftops of the Heavenly Capital, trying to get to his guoshi. Xie Lian felt a sense of deja vu I think. And then Hua Cheng's reaction when Xie Lian made a joke about being stabbed and turned into mush. I just thought that was really good foreshadowing. _____

I’ve seen some of the jokes about Hua Cheng being a stalker and I have to say again just how not true that is and it’s not even something I want to joke about. Seeing how Jun Wu actually stalked him, tormented him and all the pain that caused Xie Lian. Hua Cheng never did, and would never do anything like that. This man has such a visceral reaction to any pain Xie Lian has that it would be, at this point, like going against his very nature to do so. He is so careful about not wanting to cause Xie Lian harm by his own actions ( and of course by others).

—--------------- I was reminded from a TGCF discussion thread how young Hua Cheng was during the time Xie Lian was the White Clothed Calamity. He was 16-17 or 17-18. After all the suffering he saw Xie Lian go through, of course he was ready to burn the world down for him. It’s completely understandable even if one doesn’t agree with it. And as soon as Xie Lian changed his mind, he put aside his own desire for revenge and helped Xie Lian stop it by sacrificing himself.

I once read a thread where a comment was made that Hua Cheng encouraged Xie Lian to commit genocide because he asked why wait 3 days to inflict the Human Face Disease and it bothered me because that just wasn’t the case. And I feel it kind of does a disserve to Hua Cheng - missing out on the fact he too had just witnessed his beloved stabbed to death. Ofc, he wanted revenge but he never let that desire override what Xie Lian ultimately wanted to do.

I remember a fanfic I read kind of addressed how back then Hua Cheng didn’t try to stop Xie Lian from doing something that would’ve hurt him mentally and emotionally. Hua Cheng said at present he would say something to Xie Lian if something were to happen again. Although Hua Cheng didn’t deny he’d ultimately follow through if Xie Lian persisted, Xie LIan said he wouldn’t because he’d listen to Hua Cheng. I know it’s fanfic, but I thought that was the best way to surmise how things would play out because Hua Cheng at present wants Xie Lian to keep from being hurt in all ways, not just his body, but of course will ultimately follow whatever Xie Lian says.

I guess I just wanted to know, from your reading and thoughts on the characters, how do you think Hua Cheng would respond to Xie Lian if he was on the verge of doing something of that nature again?

Sorry for the word vomit, happy to clarify anything that got too jumbled up! And if it's too much to answer, any thoughts you'd like to share about anything I mentioned is just fine. :) Thank you!

hi, thank you so much for your ask! I'm honestly still really humbled people want to know my tgcf opinions, I did not expect this much interest at all when I started posting.

I was also spoilered for Hua Cheng being Wu Ming, but yeah, the foreshadowing in this novel really is amazing! as with the Black Water arc, every time I reread the novel I spot another small bit of foreshadowing.

I also feel your frustration in regards to the "Hua Cheng is a stalker" thing, I'm continually baffled when it comes up in fandom - because like you said, it was Jun Wu who repeatedly displayed this kind of violating behavior towards Xie Lian, not Hua Cheng. I've mentioned it in previous meta posts, though I've not yet talked extensively about it. I have a longer post in the works though where I tackle several takes on hualian's relationship that seem popular in fandom yet I feel are directly contradicted by the text.

In regards to your last questions, I've also wondered about these kinds of what-ifs, though I think the point of this storyline was that Xie Lian ultimately did choose kindness and forgiveness, and also that he was only brought to this point after suffering through the trauma of incredibly brutal violation and torture and the loss of his parents through suicide. and in regards to Hua Cheng, like you said it needs to be kept in mind what witnessing Xie Lian be violated and tortured like this did to him as well. it's very obvious both from Hua Cheng's wrath against anyone and anything who causes Xie Lian pain - including Hua Cheng himself when he feels he's failed Xie Lian in some way - as well as his unflinching self-sacrifical protectiveness towards Xie Lian, how deeply he was traumatized by what he witnessed people do to Xie Lian. unfortunately i feel like the complexities of the whole situation often get flattened out or outright ignored in certain fandom circles in favor of takes like "and that's why hualian is a toxic relationship" and other such nonsense.

also like you said it's often a disservice to Hua Cheng in particular, who I've several times seen described as one-dimensional and "walking red flag of a person". honestly one of the reasons I've been focusing so much meta on him is because of how baffling and frankly annoying I find these kinds of takes.

I think I may have read that same fanfic btw! that conversation feels familiar :3 I don't remember all the details but it did make sense to me.

don't apologize for rambling btw, always feel free to send me your thoughts! I feel like this reply ended up also quite rambly, I hope my answers were at least somewhat satisfactory anyway. some of the things you touched upon I will definitely address with more detail in that longer post I mentioned on hualian's relationship that I've been working on.

#answered asks #tgcf #hualian #hua cheng

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aita-blorbos · 10 months

Text

FAQs

You've asked, and we've answered! ...a lot! Here's a compilation of (most of) the questions we've been asked, all in one place.

What types of submissions are not allowed? Anything that 1. makes the mods uncomfortable or 2. is inaccessible (... for people using screenreaders, for people with low vision, for people with migraines, etc). There's a list here, but that's just stuff that's come up often enough we feel the need to mention it. A good rule of thumb is that the closer it is to any real-life horrible thing, the less inclined we are to post.

Genocide, especially if your ask can be summed up as "AITA for submitting/being the victim of genocide?" (Also, if you explicitly term what the POV character has done as genocide, we immediately stop caring about if that's actually accurate.)

SA of any kind, especially if your ask can be summed up as "AITA for committing/being the victim of SA?"

Incest, especially if it is really central to the submission (Also, we may have a different definition of incest than you, so be warned in advance in case your submission that you thought was fine gets sent back or deleted.)

Suicide, especially if your ask can be summed up as "AITA for committing suicide/making someone commit suicide?"

Extreme violence towards children, especially from the POV of the person doing the violence.

Anything that could be alternately summed up as "AITA for being a bigot?" Yes, fictional bigotry counts.

Submissions about real people.

Harry Potter submissions.

All-caps asks. Depending on what software is being run, this can mess with screen readers.

Small-text asks. These are hard to read for people with low vision.

Leetspeak asks / typing quirks of any kind. Again, screen readers, but this time it's for all of them.

Colored text. It can cause migraines.

... For the last four, if your ask makes minor use of caps, small text, leetspeak, or colored text, it will probably get posted with tags like "small text," "not screenreader friendly," or "colored text."

Excluding, to the best of our ability, Harry Potter, we do not delete submissions based on what the source material depicts. 9 times out of 10, we don't know what the source material even is.

Can I submit something about real people if they've been dead for a long time? We would still prefer that you not. If your media of choice is something like SIX, Hamilton, Our Flag Means Death, or any other fictionalized account of real peoples' lives, we may choose to delete your submission even if we recognize the fandom... or there may not be enough to distinguish it from real life, and delete it because we thought you were submitting something about the real Anne of Cleves.

What about Jesus? Jesus was probably a real person but we'll make an exception.

Are 'sequel' submissions (the same scenario from another point of view, a followup, etc) allowed? Yes! However, it's up to you to figure out a way to tie back to your previous ask. You are welcome to do this in the form of a reblog, but we probably won't see it.

Can I submit an ask about my OCs/fanfic/roleplay/other non-canon thing? Sure! Though if you're submitting something about someone else's fic, we'd prefer if you had the author's permission. Same principle with roleplay--everyone involved should be OK with it going here. (We won't know if you don't have permission, but we'd like to remind you that it's polite to get it.)

Do I have to tell you if I’m submitting something from a fic/roleplay/AU/OC/whatever?

You do not! You can if you want to but it doesn’t make a difference to us.

Can we post stuff that has spoilers for X media? Yes*. * Please don't send in submissions for stuff that's less than a month old, as we can't realistically tag spoilers.** ** The exception to this is remakes/adaptations/remasters/etc, which we don't consider to be "new"*** *** Unless something new actually is added, in which case only that specific thing is considered "new." So, if you have a scenario that utilizes that specific thing, please wait a month. If not, you're good.

Can I ask if you've gotten my submission/if it's been queued? Yes, but only off anon, and we will only tell you if it's in the queue or the askbox. We want to answer asks like this privately instead of clogging up peoples' dashes with them, and we do not want to dig through our blog for a specific post. You do that.

If I submitted something off anon, will you let me know if you decide not to post it? Yes, we will answer your ask privately to tell you why we do not want to post it.

How many times do you post a day? 12 posts are published a day.

Can you post more? No. This is an irritating question. You are encouraged to make your own blog if you don't like the way this one is run--we don't have a monopoly on this idea!

How long is the queue? A few days to a week, usually, including stuff in the askbox that hasn't been properly queued.

What do these acronyms mean? YTA = you're the asshole NTA = not the asshole (this means someone else is) JAH = justified asshole NAH = no assholes here ESH = everyone sucks here INFO = more information is required to make a decision

Some of the characters I want to post about are nonbinary. how should I format my submission? We do not require submissions to include the age or gender of any characters. However, if you want to include this, what we've seen other people do say is 18NB or 18X.

Can I put trigger tags at the top of my submission? Yeah that's fine! We also try to tag common triggers, although we don't tag for murder or human death because so many of these stories involve murder.

Right now we tag: - Unreality (every post) - Animal death - Suicide - Rape/CSA - Child harm/death/endangerment - Abuse - Kidnapping - Stalking - ... And a whole bunch of other stuff

All our trigger tags are just the trigger with no CW/TW

#not aita #faq

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gunsandspaceships · 4 days

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FAQ

I see this post is needed.

What is the purpose of this blog?

Analysis of the MCU and its characters, with a main focus on Tony Stark. Why? Because he is the most misunderstood character in the MCU. Sometimes I write/reblog about Comics versions too. This is not a "pure fun" blog, it's a meta blog about a fictional universe. I use sources, facts, educated guesses, all that scientific stuff.

Are fandoms just for "pure fun"?

No, they are for people. People like different things, not just "fun" ones.

"Fun" varies from person to person. My fun is science.

Are Comics Universes and characters the same as the MCU and its characters?

No, they are not. See this post and this one. Examples from different comics universes: 1610 Tony had a "tumor" in his brain, which was actually an Infinity Stone. 616 Tony never had tumors or Infinity Stones in his brain. 9810 and TRN591 Tonys are Sorcerers Supreme, while 616 or MCU Tonys are not. 1610 Nick Fury is African American. 616 Fury is white. I can go on forever.

Does Comics Canon apply to the MCU?

No (see previous question), unless the traits shown in the MCU are the same as in the Comics. Example, Tony Stark has 3-7 PhDs in 616 Universe, but in the MCU he has 2 (see this post). Another example: Steve Rogers had a smoking habit in the comics, but in the MCU he doesn't smoke.

MCU canon is canon only for the MCU. 616 canon is canon only for 616 Universe. 1610 canon only canon for 1610 Universe. The canon of your favorite fanfic is the canon of that fanfic, etc.

Am I anti-Steve?

No, I am not. Do I criticize him? Yes, when there is something to criticize for. The same applies to any other character: Rhodey, Pepper, Wanda, etc. It is science. Deal with it.

Do I hate anyone?

No, I don't feel hate. Can get angry and annoyed though. In this case - sorry if I bite you.

Do I ship Tony with anyone?

I ship Tony with Happiness. If he is happy with Pepper - great. If he is happy with Steve - I ship it. If he is happy with Stephen - I ship it too, and so on. But if they hurt him - I don't like it. Do you expect me to like it? What would be weird. The ideal option is when everyone is happy, loves and cares about each other.

How to react if I wrote a comment on your post/reblog of my post?

If you're open to discussion, great, that's what comments are for. If you are overly sensitive, can't stand other people's opinions, or deliberately ignore the facts, then it is your right to ignore my comments. And it is my right to write them. Remember that. It is called "communication", and that's what Tumblr and other social networks are for. If you cannot communicate with other people - talk to yourself.

Will I come to your post to write a comment about how wrong you are?

Am I so terrifying? If I see something is wrong, like 2+2 is stated as 5, and not 4, I will probably tell you about it. But I don't do it for headcanons. Headcanon is your HEADcanon. You can have any headcanon you want. It is your right 100%. But if your statement about CANON is incorrect and I can prove it - I can come to you. Remember, it is my right to do so.

Examples:

You have a headcanon that MCU Tony is of Italian descent. I will not correct you because the MCU never mentions what his origin is.

You stated that MCU Tony has a drinking problem. I will come to correct you, because this is not true and I proved it here.

If you said 616 Tony has a drinking problem, I will not correct you because it's true.

You said that in fanfic N a kitten was saved by Clint, but it was actually Natasha. If I read that fanfic, I will come to correct you.

I think it's fair.

Do you have any questions?

Ask anything - my doors are always open. And I don't block people if I don't like what they say.

#tony stark #iron man #marvel #mcu #the avengers #steve rogers

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cypherverze · 1 year

Text

CHAPTER FIVE

Hardest Part of Ending is Starting Again

an avengers x john wick crossover fanfic

You can access the previous chapter here: Chapter Four | Series Masterlist Access

PAIRINGS: avengers x teen!reader (platonic) , tony stark x niece!reader , john wick x daughter!reader , peter parker x female!reader

SUMMARY: After having a self declared immersion in the continental, you began thinking about your life choices. Things that happened in your past and of what will happen in the future, and these thoughts had given you an answer to Tony’s offer.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hello! here’s chapter five. yay for progress (?) anyways, i hope that you’ll like this chapter. chapter six is already in the works, if i finish them soon, i’ll be able to post it on the weekends. likes, reblogs, and comments are very appreciated. thank you for sticking with my story! as always, pls excuse the typos ><

REMINDERS: this story is pure fiction. i do not own the characters of avengers, spider-man, and john wick franchise. this work is originally written by the author (me), please do not copy or repost my work in other platforms.

WARNINGS: foul language, violence, guns and knives, mention of death

WORD COUNT: 3,155

You almost gave Peter your marker.

Keyword, almost. But after what had happened back at Abram’s warehouse, you felt like it was your last day. You’re not going to lie to yourself though, a man had put a plastic bag in your head, you found it very hard to breathe that you almost past out, and you were thankful that you had managed to get away. You had never expected for Peter at all, of all people to come bursting in the warehouse and helping you. You still find everything crazy.

As you walk along the pavement, the sun was already rising when you had arrived in the continental, you greeted the concierge and grabbed your new set of keys. You just want to rest and sleep, maybe go AWOL for a day or two.

“We have taken it upon ourselves to move you belongings to your new room, Ms. Jovanovich.”

“Alright. Thank you so much.” The concierge nodded.

The new room was much better than the first. You locked your doors and hoped that the repeat of the incident last night won’t happen again, but you’re sure of it. After the stunt that Anya pulled, she won’t be able to enter the hotel anymore. She almost killed Lee, and it’s one of the most important rule in the hotel—no blood in the continental, it doesn’t matter if Lee was saved or not, there had still been a blood spilled in the continental. It’s wise if she should just steer clear, but no matter how much she ran away from it, she’ll still about to get executed by the management anyways.

When you had finished freshening up and changing to some comfy clothes, you laid down on the bed, certainly missing the comfort of it after being seated on a chair for god knows how long that it made your butt numb. You stared at the ceiling, grabbing your blood oath marker on the bedside. You looked at it, and opened it.

“I almost gave you away, huh? It’s hard for us assassins to ask for a help, but if we asked for help from others as a last resort or had been helped by others because they needed to—which is a rare occurrence for the latter, who the hell would help an assassin anyways? It’s silly that we always turn to you as a sign of owing someone for the help that they did for us. A small metal thing as an exchange for their help.” You chuckled.

“I don’t really want to owe someone. But if ever it’s Peter, then it’ll just be alright, I guess? Peter is a far much better choice than those people under the High Table.” You sighed and put back the marker on the bedside.

You’re planning on staying at the hotel for another two more days, and heading back to the avengers compound. At some point, you are considering on accepting Tony’s offer of staying at the compound, maybe you can live with him while your house is getting rebuilt—in which you have to start planning on, and accepting his offer as well in transferring to Midtown. Maybe this can help you get Abram off of your trail, the more you’re surrounded by a lot of people, the better. It’s least likely for Abram to target you out in the open that’s full of teenagers.

You continued on staring at the ceiling, until you felt your eyes closing and falling completely asleep.

It was three weeks later that you found yourself checking out of the hotel in the middle of the night. You were about to leave after two days, but ended up leaving after a whole ass month. You figured out that you needed a couple weeks of silence to yourself. No thinking of everything, just a couple more weeks to be by yourself. Basking in the temporary safety that the hotel gives you before going out again in the real world.

“It’s a pleasure having you with us, Ms. Jovanovich.” The concierge told you as you were checking out of the hotel.

“Likewise. Please send my thanks to Winston.” The concierge nodded.

“We hope to see you again soon.” You nodded and began walking towards the exit.

As you leave the continental, you began walking the direction towards the compound, blending once again into the night.

It was at around five in the morning when you arrived at the compound. You would’ve arrived a bit earlier, but you stopped by for a coffee at one of those 24/7 coffee shop and managed to have a chat with the nice girl that was working the graveyard shift. You pretty much had lost track of time, and when you arrived, you saw Steve doing some laps around the compound, and saw you.

“Hey, where have you been?” Steve said as he gave you a hug, “You’ve been gone for a month.”

“Out on a business trip. Didn’t Friday told you? I left him a memo to pass to you guys when you arrive from your mission.”

“Yeah, we did. But still wanted to know directly from you.”

“I’m back now, no need to worry.” Steve smiled at you and ruffled your hair.

“Good to have you back at the compound, kiddo. The rest of the guys are missing you, you’ve been gone for too long. Especially Tony, been calling you and you never answered, been driving him on the edge.” You chuckled.

“No phones allowed on business trips.” You shrugged and smiled, he laughed.

“Well you go on now and get some rest.”

“Thanks, cap.”

“No problem, kid.” You hugged him and made your way to the entrance.

The compound was still quiet, no sign of any of the team being awake yet. That’s good, you’ll be able to go to your room in silence. You took the advantage while everyone is not up yet, you want to deal with their questions once you’ve fully regained your energy, because some of them won’t make it easy for you.

Arriving to your room, you see Koda sleeping on your bed. You missed your little fluff ball so much. When Koda noticed you, he quickly jumped off of the bed and tackled you. You closed your room to block the noise from coming out. You lift him up and put him down on the bed, you changed into a comfy clothes and joined Koda on the bed.

“Hey buddy, how are you? Were you a good boy while I’m gone?” You ruffled his head, “Hey Fri?”

“Welcome back, Ms. Jovanovich. What can I help you with?” The AI greeted you.

“Thanks, Fri. Was Koda a good boy while I wasn’t around?”

“Yes, Koda was a good dog. Mr. Wilson had taken him out with him for a run every morning while you’re away,” You smiled, happy to know that Koda is getting taken care of amazing people, “He would also accompany Mr. Barnes when he goes to the city, he spends time with Mr. Banner and Mr. Stark on the lab, sometimes Mr. Parker takes care of him.” You smiled, happy to know that Koda is being taken care of amazing people.

“Mr. Stark had built Koda a dog bed inside the lab.” Your eyes widened at what the AI told you.

“Did he now? So much for no animals allowed in the compound, yet he had spoiled Koda by making him a bed, in his lab out of all places.” You chuckled, “Thanks, Fri. That’s all.”

“Okay. Have a good rest, Ms. Jovanovich.”

You laid down on the bed, with Koda beside you, and staring at the ceiling again—it had been your favorite pastime, staring blankly at the ceiling while you contemplate everything that had and will happen in your life. It did felt good to be back home again together with the team. You mentally noted that you needed to talk to your uncle later when you wake up.

It was already 10:30 in the morning when you woke up, you had decided to sleep in and not getting up at your usual time. You stretched your limbs and got out of bed, heading to the bathroom to freshen up. Koda was already waiting by the door and is excited to go out, so you two went out of the room and head to the dining area to grab some coffee.

“There’s our little killer superstar!” Sam’s voice boomed, “Sleeping beauty finally awake.”

“Morning.” You laughed at Sam and greeted everyone, guessing that they just woke up too because they are all just beginning to eat their breakfast.

“Hey pretty girl, come on and join us for breakfast.” Natasha smiled and gave you a hug.

“Lady (Y/N)! It is good to have you back. Friday said that you were away on a business trip, I was afraid that I won’t be able to see you before I leave. How was it? I reckon you had a good time!” Thor said while smiling at you.

You were touched by what he said, it’s rare for you to see Thor in the compound, so you make the best of it. He’s a really fun guy, you get along with him very well.

“The trip was fun,” You said as you sat beside Wanda, “Was productive, at most. Not done with it yet, though. I may be leaving again real soon.” You took a sip of the coffee that was handed to you.

“How soon?” Wanda asked.

“Maybe in two months? Not sure yet, depends.” You shrugged.

“Well, we’re glad to have you back again. This time, in one piece and no scratch.” Natasha said.

“Had taken a few hits, and my wounds had managed to heal back just in time. But can’t speak too soon Nat.” You took a sip of your coffee again.

“Good, you’re here!” You heard your uncle’s voice, “Been waiting for you to come out of your room ever since Friday informed me that you’re already back.” Tony hugged you.

“That’s great then. Needed to talk to you as well about something.” You finished your coffee and put it on the sink.

“Alright, you know where to find me.” Tony left right after he got his coffee.

“Hey buddy, I’m just gonna go and have a talk with uncle Tony, okay?” You pat Koda’s head.

“Speaking of Koda, can we take him with us?” Sam asked.

“Where to?” You raise an eyebrow at Sam.

“Wilson and I will be going out to run on a few errands.” Bucky said.

“Yeah sure, no problem. His leash is in my room, by my shoe rack. You can just go there and get it.” You decided to tease them, “You two gonna be going on a date?” Everyone laughed.

“Hey! You getting back at me with all the spider boy teasing that I made at you?” Sam fired back at you.

“You always both bicker like an old married couple, so…” You shrugged, “Maybe or maybe not. But hey, enjoy your date with Koda!” You winked at Sam and Bucky and left the dining area.

“Hey, guys.” You greeted Bruce and Tony when you entered the lab.

“Hi, (Y/N). Welcome back!” Bruce said as he hugged you.

“Thanks, Bruce. Mind if I borrow my uncle for a while?”

“By all means. I needed a break from him, he’s been cranky the past few days, up until now.” You laughed.

“Care to walk with me around?” Tony nodded at you.

He dropped the tools that he was holding and followed you out of the lab and the both of you began treading the halls of the compound, until you had reached outside. It’s a cloudy and windy day today, so it’s perfect for both you and Tony to take a walk around ghe compound. The surroundings are also quiet, so you both have a little bit of privacy.

“I need to talk to you about something.” You began.

“What is it? Don’t tell me your pregnant.” You slapped you hand at his arm, causing him to laugh.

“No! What the fuck! But hey, I’ve been thinking about your offer.” You sighed, placing both of your hands at the pockets of your sweats, “Of transferring to Midtown and living here at the compound.” Tony smiled at you brightly.

“But I can only live here temporarily, until the house had been finished rebuilding. Which I haven’t gotten onto yet, but I’ll be in touch with some professionals later when we get back inside.” Tony rolled his eyes at you.

“Hmm, don’t you think it’s time for you to move? If you keep on rebuilding it over and over again, those people that are after you would just come back for you there, because they know that you frequent there.” Your uncle reasoned out.

“You know that I can’t uncle Tones. That house holds a lot of memory for me, I can’t just throw it away that easy.” You sighed, “We have already been over this a hundred of times.” You frowned.

“Look, you can’t really blame me for being worried so much for you. I am always worrying about you when you go home. It’s much better if you stayed here with us permanently, where you’ll be around of many people from time to time.” You’re about to say something, but he quickly cut you off, “I know what you’ll say. I know that you can protect yourself, but until up to what extent? You’re a kid, a teenager, I know that there’s one hell of a fighting spirit in you. But don’t you think it feels so much better if you can be at ease and be in a place where you can feel safe? Even at least for a bit?”

Your uncle was making a very valid point. After spending weeks at the continental, you never felt so at ease. It feels good to be in a place where you can at least feel safe. You had been set on not involving the avengers in your business, and maybe you had been too strict with yourself. The people that you’re with, they’re a freaking superhero with actual super powers, they are the people who you can count on. Maybe it’s not that bad in permanently staying in the compound, Koda won’t ever be alone when you go on business trips. Maybe it’s time for a change, I’m sure that if you’re father is alive, he would want you to make the choice.

“Okay, how about we compromise.” You sighed, “I’ll be moving here permanently at the compound, but I want the house to be rebuilt and you’re going to help me with it. I will live here, but I’ll be visiting my house from time to time.” Tony smiled at you.

“I’ll gladly help you with that. We can even put some Stark tech on the house, for safety measures.” You smiled.

“Now that it had been decided, we now move to the second agenda to talk about. About me transferring to Midtown.”

“What about it?” He crossed his arms behind him.

“While I was back at the continental, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I wanted to feel like a normal teenager, I wanted to know what it feels like, just for once. I have been living in fast forward, to the point that I have forgotten what’s it like to have a normal life. I’ve never even set foot on an actual school, I’ve been homeschooled all my life. I wanted to know what it felt like to be surrounded by a lot of people that are close to my age, not with a bunch of old people that wanted me to kill someone for them all the time. I know very well that my life will never ever be normal or peaceful, because none of what I do and involve myself with is normal and peaceful to begin with, it was a choice that I had made, but I would like to experience it at some point in my life. Before the time comes and it gets taken away from me.”

You sighed and looked at the ground while walking and felt an arm around your shoulder. You felt Tony’s gaze linger at you, and you looked back at him, shrugging your shoulders.

“What? You can’t convince me otherwise that it’s not true because it’s really true. It’s the reality of it. It’s the reality of what I do.” You chuckled bitterly.

“No matter what happens, I’ll always be here to support and help you, you remember that, okay? You’re the only memory of Helen that I have, the only blood related, a kin that I have.” Tony pulled you in for a tight hug.

“Speaking of my mom, do you want to come with me and visit them?” You looked up at Tony and smiled at him, “Been planning on visiting them again, and please remind me to get some flowers. It’s already embarrassing enough that their daughter doesn’t visit them that often and when I’ll visit, I always forget bring any flowers at all.” You scowled.

“I would love to, kiddo.” He smiled back at you and ruffled your hair, “So when do you plan on starting school?” You both continued walking.

“Not really sure. Don’t know how it really works.” You shrugged and scratched the back of your head.

“How about we visit the school and take a look?”

“You sure? Aren’t you a big shot or something? Wouldn’t that be weird if the Tony Stark suddenly went to Midtown on a completely random day?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“We’ll go there when the classes are in session, if you want. To avoid a few people.” He shrugged.

“That’ll work.”

“Then it’s settled, we’ll go first thing tomorrow morning.” Tony smiled at you.

“Huh? Don’t you have one of those fancy businesses meetings to attend to?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, so?” He replied, “I decided to reschedule it. My niece comes first, business second.”

“Wow, I’m touched.” You put a hand on your chest in a dramatic way.

“You should be!” Tony sassed, “Imagine, the Tony Stark rescheduling his business meetings for his niece.” He began walking faster.

“Hey! Wait up for me your old geezer!” You shouted and ran to catch up to him.

“The hell did you just call me?”

When you had catched up to him, Tony quickly put an arm around your shoulder, placing you in headlock and ruffling your hair, looking like a chicken had ran on it, and you were laughing so hard. The last time that you had laughed this hard is back when you’re father was still alive.

You are happy.

Finally happy, and you pray that it won’t get taken away from you in just one blink of an eye.

TAGLIST:

@sirimiripetrichor @nimo-jay @preciousbabypeter @graysonmalik2550 @khaleesihavilliard

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clonemedickix · 6 months

Text

Rating: M

Word count: 7.5K

Pairing: OC Clone Medics

Warnings: Mention of medical trauma, mention of medical procedures, mention of prehospital care and trauma, discussion on pediatric care, alcohol use, implied substance abuse/impairment, implied sexual activity, medical humor, prehospital humor (it's snide y'all, that's the reality)

Excerpt Summary - Day One of the 1st Annual GAR Medic Conference

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If you'd like to see more of my fic works, click here.

First Day: Watch Out For That Drop!

Clones started to file into the appointed lecture room for the first class, finding tables laden with breakfast pastries, cereal and blue milk, large steaming carafes full of caf. There were a lot of bleary-eyed men wandering about, hungover from the previous night of drinking, laughing and story telling at various restaurants and bars. The group was fairly quiet, considering how loud and raucous they'd been the night before, and Volte was secretly feeling quite smug over the rest he'd managed to get before starting classes that morning. It wouldn't last; Kix was not about to agree to another night of simply going to bed. He'd come to party and relive stories, and he wasn't going to let Volte's boring personality drag him down.

Sawbones and Whiskey sauntered into the room, also looking more bright eyed and bushy tailed than most of the others gathered around the table. Sawbones quickly moved to the caf table, giving a few of the younger, hung over clones sharp looks that had them shifting out of his way. He even growled "MOVE!" at one that hadn't gotten the message from his body language. The groggy medic looked up in surprise, blinking as if the light were too hard, saw the grizzled old clone's expression, and quickly moved as ordered.

The first day of classes started with a bang, almost literally. "Advanced Airway Management for Facial Trauma: What To Do When Holes Are Present That Shouldn’t Be" discussed such things as facial trauma from shrapnel wounds, blaster wounds, and stab wounds. The medics were all educated and most, though not all, were seasoned by having been in the field in some capacity. Airway management was always critically important; the C-ABCs were the most crucial steps in first response to save a patient. One of the younger medics, Chance, leaned over to his neighbor, Heron, a medic from the 218th Company, and asked "What do they stand for, again?"

Heron stared at the little shiny brother for a moment wryly, as if wondering why the fresh kid was asking something so obvious, and then muttered back, "Catastrophic Hemorrhage, Airway, Breathing and Circulation."

"Ahhh, thanks, 'Vod," Chance whispered back, flashing him a little smile.

The subject matter and attendant images were pretty harsh for a first-thing-in-the-morning class, but medical people were strange. They could handle looking at evisceration over a plate of spaghetti, or discussing dismemberment and gross bodily functions while eating dinner. An outside observer might wonder what was wrong with these people - how they could be so numb to horrific images - but the men all sat sprawled back and half awake in their chairs, sipping caf and munching on breakfast pastries while listening attentively to the lecturer.

A particularly gruesome image with an attached story was of a nat born civilian injury, in which someone had contrived to shoot them in the face. The front of their jaw and a lot of their lower face was missing, creating an airway nightmare scenario for the medics to ponder. The presenter stopped the class for a moment to take ideas on how the students would secure the patient's airway.

Stretcher, a noticeably taller than average medic with the 327th Star Corps spoke up. "Was the patient breathing on their own? I mean, if they're getting air, maybe just support, scoop and run."

The lecturer nodded, saying, "That's one idea. Any others?"

Volte leaned forward a bit and spoke up. "Intubate the patient. Follow the bubbles - where the patient's breath meets blood there will be bubbles and that should identify the airway. Secure it with a laryngoscope blade and pop a tube in there, because there's no guarantee how long they'll be conscious enough to keep breathing on their own, no matter how fast you run."

"Good, very good. Following the bubbles is a legitimate method. Would you use a facial mask over a patient like this?," the teacher asked.

Heads shook to say no. Bagging a patient like that would cause the remaining airway, teeth and tongue structures to collapse and further occlude the airway. It would be a disaster without proper jaw thrust to keep the tongue from falling back over the trachea; better to use a high flow face mask until real securement was in place.

"Very good, class. Any other suggestions?," the lecturer asked. This was the last discussion portion of his class and always generated some good feedback.

Once again, Volte spoke up. "One could always place a surgical airway, bypassing the entire upper trachea and the wounded area, but there's also a couple of types of airway adjuncts from my General's home planet, called the Combitube and King Airway. They're a blind intubation method - they can end up in the esophagus and yet still provide oxygenation and ventilation because of the position of their side holes. They were designed for things like this, when you have to just stuff the tube in blindly and hope for the best."

"That's very interesting. Have you used these tools, or seen them in real life?" The instructor seemed quite intrigued; this whole convention was about teaching new methods, updating education and showing off new technology. He'd love to get his hands on these tools being discussed.

"I have seen the King Airway, used it in fact. My General has brought us several implements from her home world to use in the field. I've found they help a lot - cut down a lot of the time to treatment element and help us get the wounded off the field quicker." Volte held up his data pad. "I've got some images stored on my data pad I can show you."

Kix coughed loudly and covered his mouth as he gasped out, "Be sure it's not the pinup pictures!" Several men heard him and chuckled as Volte looked over at him with a disgusted grunt and elbowed Kix in the ribs.

Volte snapped back something he'd heard General Lin say in jest when telling a trooper to shut it and leave. "Get thee gone Satan, or I will smite thee with my data pad and tape your mouth shut with conduit tape." Kix chuckled and walked out the door to stretch his legs while Volte and the instructor had their nerd moment over the airway adjuncts.

The class emptied out for a break before the next session started, "Rapid Sedation: How to Restrain Your Patient in Fives Seconds Without the Use of Conduit Tape." As the men trickled back in from the refresher and more caf, Volte and Kix grabbed seats near their little core group, seeing all of the Corries clumping together as well. Sedating patients was always a topic of discussion and sometimes jokes with medics, especially the Coruscant Guard, who as a general rule had to contend with the element of drunk partygoers or recreational substance use on all levels of the Capital ecumenopolus. Even the rich, famous and Senatorial types weren't innocent of the occasional dalliance.

To everyone's surprise, the speaker was an old nat born training medic from Kamino, famous for her assertive, indomitable will, her small stature and fierce eyes, nicknamed 'Pockets'. Few patients or students ever crossed her, afraid of seeing the wrath boiling in her cool blue eyes. Pockets was small, but a hurricane-like force of nature, and those who'd challenged her in the wild always found she was ever ready to sidestep the battle with a quick stab of a needle in a well placed muscle. She was not there to play games, she'd say. Pockets was there to help, even if it meant taking you out of the picture so she could do her job.

The group of clones were fascinated that such a small female could do so much with so little; the men were all no shorter than six foot two, give or take a couple inches either way. It was a rare day when someone out of their head challenged them, but it still happened occasionally, and every clone to a man believed that little Pockets would have a bull reek fully immobilized in less than five minutes, by herself. Sawbones gleefully imagined her strapping him to a bed with tape and having her way with him - he liked bullheaded, assertive girls that didn't back down.

"There are hundreds of medications spanning the range of emergency antipsychotic medications to straight sedation and pain classes, which can also serve the same purpose. In extreme cases, where a patient's psychosis or high goes too far and they require the aid of us assisting breathing, a small cocktail is required." Pockets paused, glancing around the room at her attentive audience. They were all breathtakingly handsome, and their dark eyes blinking back at her wiped her train of thought for a second. She cleared her throat, grasping at the threads of her lecture once more. "It was actually developed for the use of sedating and securing the airway of mothers in obstetrical distress, needing immediate surgical delivery and a patient airway. Given in the appropriate order and dose, the treatment team was able to knock the patient out without causing them to vomit reflexively, putting the airway at risk due to aspiration.” Pockets took a quick breath and then finished by saying, “So thank the next pregnant lady you see for rapid sedation protocols- they did you a favor.”

The lecture continued on in the same vein, as she covered the different medications, a short blurb about their history and pharmacology, pharmacokinetics, dosing and route of administration. She covered a few medications that could be given without intravenous access, which still had to be injected. "Sometimes, it's just satisfying to stab a truly unruly patient with a needle and watch them finally hit the wall of sleep. Definitely more humane than what one former partner of mine did. He used every roll of conduit tape in the ship to mummify the patient to the spine board after the guy decked me. I fell out the back of the ship, which was thankfully still on the platform, and really cracked my head hard. My partner didn't take too kindly to that, and since we had a trainee aboard, he and the newbie wrapped that guy head to toe with the tape to hold him down and keep him from hurting anyone else. They left his eyes, mouth and nose free of course, but it's safe to say the guy got a free waxing he didn't plan for when he started his day."

Pockets retold the story with a pretty neutral tone, though her eyes glimmered a bit with laughter. To some, the story probably seemed a little hard on the patient, but to others, like the Corries, it was all too familiar, recalling the many times some patients were less respectful, kind and cooperative, bordering more on the side of unsafe and dangerous to the medics and their crew. No medical crew should ever have to fear for their lives for simply trying to help a person. The forward operating medics all shot glances at the Corries, knowing this was more in their realm of expertise; it was rare that a wounded man in the field acted with such abandon and violence toward their medical officers. Sure, they could and would use the knowledge gained from this class to better care for their brothers, but they didn't plan on having to sedate them for behavioral issues. Now, doing it as a prank... that conduit tape mummification gag sounded pretty attractive to several of them, eyeing their neighbor a little mischievously or thinking of a certain brother they'd love to see strapped to a board. A few day dreams included visions of toting said brother around the base while still taped on the backboard, leaning him against the wall like he was nothing more than a curious object while continuing on blissfully with their lives...

Jab, a junior medic attached to Phoenix Company, chuckled softly and murmured to his neighbor, Captain Jaro of the 16th Medical Battalion, "Those injectable sedatives would be fun to carry in some of our autoinjectors. Can you imagine? Guy gets rowdy and you're like, 'Calm down or you're gonna get a poke.' Guy keeps fighting, 'One, two... stabby stab.'" He chuckled again; he was notorious for giving meds off count - it always took the men by surprise, as they trusted him enough to believe he would get to three before poking them, but no, not Jab. He believed in getting the negative stuff over with as quickly as possible.

The Corries as usual were all sitting together in a group, and Voodoo leaned over to Patcher, saying, "So, this means we're completely justified in sedating unruly supervisors that don't take care of themselves too, right?"

Patch laughed and answered back, "I'm not sure what YOU did was necessarily within the protocols, but justified? ...Maybe..."

Siren fixed Voodoo with a stern look and said, "Fox completely deserved what you did! If he wasn't going to look after himself, it's the medic's job to do so. When it comes to the health of the troopers, the medic is in charge."

Voodoo grinned back at the support of his brothers. Their Marshall Commander, Fox, had a bad tendency to work himself to death and refuse food and sleep until whatever obsession was on his plate was taken care of. When Voodoo was still somewhat new to the Coruscant Guard, he'd seen the man get particularly haggard and ground down after a long hitch of watching Senators for some big wig meeting in the Capital. When the rest of the men started to complain about how short tempered, hangry and down right bitchy Fox was getting, Voodoo decided to take matters into his own hands. He made a pretense to visit Fox in his office, moved to look at something over Fox's shoulder, and quickly stabbed him in the neck with an autoinjector of sedatives.

Fox had reacted like a snake bit him, shooting out of his desk chair with a strangled, "What in karking HELL did you just give...me..." as he crumpled to the floor and immediately drew in a stuporous snore.

Voodoo stood over him with triumphant grin, then hailed Thorn over his comm device to come help him get the Commander to some place more comfortable than the floor. When Fox woke up two days later, he found a warm, nutritious breakfast spread on the table next to him, as well as a note from Voodoo that simply stated, "And I'd do it again."

When the class broke up, the men all wandered off to find lunch. They had a good while before the next class started, so some of the medics headed back to their rooms to relax, nap, read a book, watch some holo net. Kix and Volte left the convention center to walk down the street, in search of food they hadn't tried as yet; they didn't want to burn out on hotel food when there were small Hosnian Prime native shops within reach to try.

The after lunch program started off with one of the most taboo and terrifying subjects in the medical world: pediatrics. As a general rule, most people were afraid to treat children. They often approached that patient population with the attitude of 'children are just small adults', and 'a silent kid is a dead kid, but a loud kid is annoying.' About the only medic actually excited to attend the class was Minder, who ambled in quickly, found a spot on the front row of the class, and waited eagerly for the speaker to climb the dais. Volte and Kix decided to sit just behind their friend; they didn't want to seem too excited about the topic.

Volte was wary of kids, but wasn't averse to treating them. His General, in fact, kept a job on her home world of treating children hospitalized for various illnesses, and had told him many times of long term patients she'd gotten to know. She seemed to hold a real affection for small patients and always patiently imparted tips to Volte on how to get on their level, gain their trust so that treating them was easier. General Lin always asserted firmly that treating kids was FAR better than dealing with adults, hands down.

There were low chuckles, murmuring, and a few gasps when the presenter climbed up to the podium. The instructor was a small, sprightly young woman, dressed in a costume that looked like a cat, whiskers drawn on her face, with little pointed ears sticking out of her curly hair, and a long tail trailing behind her. She placed a small sheaf of papers on the lectern and looked up at her audience, seeing hundreds of wide, amused to shocked brown eyes staring back.

"Howdy! Welcome to 'How to Approach Younglings: They're Not Armed Bombs.' I’m Madi, and this lecture is going to contain a lot of personal experience, maybe even some tips you might find helpful in the future. The biggest take away I want you to learn is that kids don't have to be terrifying. They're all unique, fiercely brave little souls that will all make a mark on you in some way, most likely permanently. You'll never forget these little patients going forward, especially if you are lucky enough to form a bond with them."

Volte and Kix had both sat up to attention when they saw the speaker’s attire, and Kix looked over at Volte with an amused expression. Her costume was very telling; it left little to the imagination about her form and figure. Kix was staring guilelessly at the woman, amazed that she had the spirit and courage to appear before a room full of single, handsome rakish men dressed as a sexy cat; he was salivating over the thought of getting her comm channel numbers. Volte was simply trying to look attentive and interested for the speaker. Sawbones leaned forward to mutter in Volte's ear, "I'll definitely never forget her wearing that outfit, going forward..."

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I chose to dress up like a cat for you. Let me tell you why, because it certainly wasn't to feed your filthy imaginations." Madi squinted at Sawbones knowingly; she'd seen him say something to Volte that had made the medic shift in his seat uncomfortably. "On my home world, medical professionals that specialize in children often dress up for different occasions, because wonder and imagination are both so important to a child. There is a whole day dedicated to dressing up as someone or something else for fun, and going around asking for candy from adults. At the facility I work at, we have a party on a sky bridge, where all the medical workers dress up for the children, to hand out candy and toys." Madi paused to see more of the clones were intrigued at the thought of her interacting with child patients on some distant planet, dressed up for the part in some tantalizing costume or other.

"Another important thing to remember about kids - they're not just small adults. A child's body is not mature; it's still going through a very complicated growth pattern, as is their mind. It's important to know the different developmental stages for a child, so you know how to interact with them appropriately. For instance, a toddler may hate you on sight, regardless of what you do, because it's within their developmental stage to be afraid of strangers. If you luck out enough to land on a character they're familiar with, you might be able to approach them more easily. Otherwise, you might just be in for a small rodeo."

Volte heard Voodoo mumble, "The kriff is a 'rodeo'?" This was something Volte had a lot of experience with; people were generally confused at many of the quips his General said in the course of a conversation. Even her own men were often forced to make her clarify what she was talking about, and would remind her “Basic... General. Basic." So it made Volte smile a bit seeing General Lin wasn’t the only person who needed a translator for their little euphemisms.

Madi looked at Voodoo a little dryly and huffed out, "Rodeo = wrestling match, same thing."

Sawbones laughed darkly and muttered, "I'd wrestle with her any day, and she can call it whatever she likes."

Rolling her eyes slightly at the male commentary, she continued on, outlining the different stages of mental and emotional development for children, then discussed multiple physical changes that occurred with growth. She wasn't to let their locker room humor stop her from enlightening them about pediatric care. "I've ended up watching holo shows and playing games with multiple patients of all ages, in order to gain and keep their trust. It's actually a very rewarding thing, knowing the kids look to you as something of a friend or protector."

She moved on to the next subject. "Gaining intravenous access on small children, especially infants, is incredibly difficult for those who don't use the skill on a daily basis. Those little veins are hard to see, tiny, and frequently like to roll away from the needle. In that case - and I've checked with your typical supplies - you have intraosseous needles that can be drilled either by hand or by purpose made drill, into the bone." Madi stopped and picked up a strange, burgundy colored power drill with a rather wicked looking, long plastic and metal needle on the end. She hit the trigger and the drill made a noticeable high pitched burrrr and Madi smiled a little wickedly, like an evil scientist with a surgical instrument. Kix's breath caught, his mind throwing images of her securing him to a bed and holding that thing over him threateningly. She stepped off the podium and handed it to Minder, telling him to pass it around so everyone could see it.

"What you're passing around now, is called the 'Easy IO' on my home planet. It's a purpose made power drill that holds an IO needle on the front by magnet, which makes it far easier to access the bone marrow. You find your appropriate site, hold it steady, hit the trigger, and drill that puppy home. Pop it off the drill, unscrew the top and voila, there is a connection beneath to attach IV tubing to." She paused as she saw Jab playing with the drill, his eyes a little dreamy about using it in the field. "Now, the two biggest problems with IO access is pain and pressure caused by infusing through the marrow, and securement so the line doesn't infiltrate into the surrounding musculature and tissue. That's a bad, bad deal. Down the road you also have to worry about osteomyelitis since placing these are always emergent and not usually the cleanest insertions; however, they can stay in up to 24 hours."

The drill had made it back to Carpal, who was hitting the trigger and watching the needle spin in a fascinated, morbid way. He'd heard everything she'd said; he had his hearing aids in so he could catch all the important information. When he got tired of listening, he would sometimes turn them off and snooze in his chair, so that he looked present, or at least like a body occupying a seat.

"These drills have made placing IOs FAR easier than in the past. Once the only choice was to manually insert the needle, by grasping the patient's leg, holding it as steady as you could, and drilling that wicked thing into the bone by hand. I've seen grown men shaking like leaves while inserting them, knowing they were causing pain but doing their best to help the child in question. And if your hand slipped, you could stab yourself through the back of the patient's leg - it was a rough procedure on everyone involved." She saw multiple clones wince in horror. "So the point is, drills are good, getting access is golden, medicate with a numbing adjunct first thing before you infuse volume or meds of any kind - it truly helps with the pain. Any questions?"

Madi surveyed the room with bright eyes, waiting to see if any were brave enough to ask anything. A few were. They tossed back questions and answers for a good thirty minutes and then were dismissed for a break before their next class. Minder immediately stood to corner the little speaker, to ask her more about her personal interactions with pediatric patients, generating trust between them, and how to cope with some of the harder cases. Kix grumbled in Volte's ear as he walked by “Gonna get her comm codes, watch me! See if I can't make that kitten purr,” he said with a salacious grin. Volte shook his head and kept walking; he imagined the girl had teeth and claws to go with her feisty personality, but he knew Kix was nothing if not persistent and bold.

The clones shuffled along to their next two classes in an upbeat mood; the day was nearly over and while it had been a long one, they'd learned a lot of valuable lessons and new information. They all felt it had been a productive day, and were looking forward to getting out, hitting the bar for drinks and camaraderie and laughs...maybe a pretty girl to flirt with or two. Kix had almost decided Hosnian Prime had no females, and that they'd come to some kind of torturous dating desert. Volte had laughed at his complaints, listening to him whine and grumble about the dearth of ladies to talk to, especially after the pediatrics instructor had turned Kix down hard; the rakish clone was still simmering with angst over his failure to woo the cute lecturer.

The last two lectures dealt with communicable disease and infection prevention. The first, 'Preventing Infections: As Easy As Wash Your Kriffing Hands!', dealt with exactly that - how hand washing was the most simple and expedient way to get microbes off of your skin. First, the man took roll call of every clone in the room by their CT number, making sure all were present. He called Kix's number, "CT 6...1...1...6...," waiting for a reply. When Kix didn't answer immediately, because he was too busy whispering something to Minder, the man repeated his number again in a sonorously boring voice. "CT 6...1...1...6...? No? He's not here?" Minder finally shushed Kix and gestured for him to answer the teacher back, so the man would move on. The speaker then blandly, monotonously explained how it was crucial to clean under fingernails while washing, as very harmful bacteria and viruses could live there as well, waiting like little ninja infection warriors to spread and attack new hosts.

He told horror stories of how some people, now infamous to history, had inadvertently spread diseases among the general populous. There was Dragon Pox Mary, who had been hired as a cook for a wealthy and influential family, and unknowingly spread Dragon Pox to them in their food, because she didn't believe handwashing to be necessary. And there was Nurse Katarina Belforto, who'd unfortunately not washed her hands either, and spread another deadly illness to babies under her care, killing or permanently maiming them. It was surprising that such a small thing as handwashing could be the single answer to saving lives.

The clones all sat back in their seats, many with their arms crossed over their chests, staring back at the utterly dry and boring teacher. The stories were vaguely gruesome and grim, but they couldn't over the speaker's dry, droning, slow way of talking. The instructor reached up halfway through his long session and pushed his thick glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, never looking up from the pages of his notes as he ambled on in his speech. If he'd looked up and chanced a glance at his students, he'd have seen glassy, tired, stunned eyes staring back at him like the empty windows of a vacant home - the men were just that bored by his monotonous drone. A few snorts and snores became softly audible after a few minutes, and Volte saw Whiskey suddenly jerk himself back upright after nearly falling out of his chair, having dozed off to sleep. Kix chuckled quietly and glanced at Volte out of the side of his eyes, his expression practically screaming, 'Holy kriff, this guy is boring!' Thankfully the class finally ended and the men all virtually sprinted from the room to wake up for the final lecture, hoping to get their blood pumping and find enough energy to make it through the homestretch of the day.

When they all filed back in for the final class, the men saw the presenter was a doctor at least a few of them had met before at the Grand Republic Medical Center. "Welcome to the final class of the day, men, 'Communicable Diseases: How to Avoid Them While Sitting in a Small Enclosed Space With Others.'" The men all chuckled a little at the title of the class, glancing to either side at their brothers, fellow prisoners of the current enclosed space.

The lecturer continued on, "I am Doctor Eric Coli, and we will discuss some of the finer points of how diseases can spread so easily in small areas, to some extent due to a lack of handwashing, as my fine colleague Sten Bein covered in his lecture." He paused, seeing the clones' eyes all start to glaze over at even the slightest mention of the previous discussion, and laughed softly. "I know you were all positively riveted by that class...," he said, completely devoid of irony. There were a few titters of laughter and a few murmured comments among the crowd; they knew the doctor was being sarcastic.

The medics all found Dr Coli to be witty and entertaining, as he described the horrors of some diseases and how they could spread like wildfire in small communities. He opened the floor up to take commentary on ideas about containing such contagion, since the clones to a large extent were not well versed in infectious disease. While violence was a disease, trauma on the battlefield was not, and the clones were all healthy, genetically enhanced, illness free men. They generally had no need of education on such subjects. To a man, they got their eyes opened that day.

Dr Coli discussed more than one awful disease, such as colonovirus, a notorious sickness that seemed particularly attracted to cruise ships. Victims found themselves overtaken within hours of exposure with severe vomiting and diarrhea, ideation of death (actually, wishing they could die because they were so miserable), and the urgent need for a refund on their trip. It was a yearly malaise, and had picked up multiple nicknames along the years such as 'The Cruise Ship Disease' or 'Montezuma's Revenge', or 'The Curse of The Out of Order Refresher.' The doctor even laughingly read them a poem he'd written about the awful malady when he himself had contracted it after a pleasure cruise to Naboo.

"Oh colonovirus, why dost thou assaulteth my bowels?

Each day I make offerings to ye gods of the refresher in stool softeners and fiber.

How hast I offended thee?

I pray, oh greatest of calamities, return to the depths of the hell from whence thou climbest!

I shall suffer the slings and arrows of your cursed hold no more.

For I shall defeatest thou by means of moist wipes and the washing of my unworthy hands.

By the power of the warm and comforting bidet, I shall vanquish thee!

The clones were all crying tears of laughter by the final stanza of his "Ode to Colonovirus," and all of the men present for the lecture agreed he'd won the best lecture of the day title, (clean) hands down.

He also covered a nightmare respiratory virus that was somewhat new to the galaxy, which up until recently none had any immunity to. The medics all vaguely recalled hearing about the disease and how the general public had reacted to it. People were barred from standing within six feet of each other. All had to wear masks that covered nose and mouth to prevent exposure to droplets. The general populace at large became terrified of their neighbors, terrified for their families, separated and isolated from any and all people. The galaxy had weathered the awful contagion as best it could, though in the end they were forced to more or less suffer through it until immune systems became well acquainted enough to fight back. Vaccines were created, medications patented, but millions of lives were lost before the disease began to release its vile hold on the galaxy.

The poor doctor had worn something of a haunted look while retelling the experiences of the awful virus. While the clones had been isolated and protected on Kamino, they realized the rest of the galaxy had suffered and died, losing loved ones, friends and family alike, fighting a different sort of war, though just as real as the one the clones were battling. The discussion got very real, very fast, and when the class finally ended, the men left feeling immensely lucky for having coasted right by that plague without any issues.

The sports bar was positively hopping with the raucous energy of the clones, finally freed from class and still brimming with amazement at the displays of the vendors. The new technology coming out had them buzzing, most especially the planned medical - evacuation dropship, complete with six bunks for patients. They could feasibly load a couple more in the floor of the ship, taking eight critically wounded with them on a first run. It had the men dreaming excitedly about the possibilities of saving more brothers from death or permanent maiming, if they could cut their field to treatment time down.

Volte and Kix were holding court at the bar, having shouldered their way in for a place there, and refused to give it up. Kix had pulled Minder in next to him so he could sit at one of the bar stools and rest his leg, while Sawbones stood next to Volte, a keen, watchful eye on the crowd of milling clones as they all chattered away about their classes for the day and whatever free goods they'd been given by the different exhibitors.

Whiskey ambled up, ordering a drink and then settling in next to the small knot of clones he'd taken to hanging out with. He and Sawbones started chatting, raising their bottles in greeting when Quarter strolled up to them.

Excitedly, Quarter asked Whiskey what he thought of the new medical platform. He knew they most likely would never need it on Coruscant, but it was neat to dream about it anyway. "I saw it had respiratory gas hook ups, built in monitoring cables that go to a central monitoring system, and even a suction system!," he burbled on. "That's got to make the forward operating medics happy, having all of those hardwired in."

"Oh heck yeah!," Sawbones grunted in reply. "It will come in handy that's for sure." Saw took a sip of his drink, his eyebrows quirking up at a thought, and mischievous light coming into his hard eyes. "Though that built in suction thing isn't a new idea. Right, Kix?"

Kix looked up when his name was called and said, "Huh? You summoned me?"

"Yeah! I was telling Quarter here that the built in suction system on that evac platform isn't a new idea. Is it, Vod?" Sawbones waggled his eyebrows a little and grinned at Kix in something almost of a leer. There was a story lurking there, which was backed up by the dull blush that crept up Kix's neck into his high cheekbones.

"Not nice, Sawbones," Kix said in a low voice, trying to warn his brother off of telling all his dirty secrets.

"Oh, I think it's completely necessary, don't you Quarter?" Sawbones grinned over at his other batchmate brother and saw him laugh, realizing where Saw was going with this. Kix gave Quarter a withering look, his face moving into a very resigned expression, knowing what was coming.

A small crowd had grown around their little group; somehow people always *knew* when tea was about to be spilled and gravitated toward it. The group had expanded to Scope, a medic serving under Commander Bly and General Secura, Friendly, an outgoing medic that typically patrolled Hutt Space with his battalion, Chance, a very young, red headed clone still working out of Kamino, Siren, Patcher, Patch, Voodoo, and Sentinel, the CMO of the 117th Recon Battalion. All were standing around, eagerly awaiting the gory details of the story about the infamous Kix of Torrent Company as a cadet.

"So, when Kix, Quarter and I were all baby medics back on Kamino, they had us go up on a training mission in one of the newer LA ATs that had some medical revisions. The two old training medics with us - they were like gods, you know? Full of knowledge and experience, untouchable by us shinies." Saw's eyes took on a slightly faraway look as he remembered back to the day in question. "Anyway, so these two clones, Duran and Morrow, take us up and were explaining the different switches and buttons on that particular ship, while we all sat around staring at them like dreamy kids. And I guess Kix looked particularly ripe for this little prank, because they focused on him."

Sawbones laughed ruefully, the memories making it difficult to get it out without giggling maniacally. "They were all, 'So this button is the suction button. When you push that button, it makes the LAAT go up, because this scoop on the bottom drops down, and changes the ship's altitude. Got it?' And Kix man, he was so wide eyed, like some young quivrey, staring back at them like they wore halos and light shone out of their ass.” The men in the group were starting to smile, a few low chuckles breaking out, envisioning the look on Kix's face as he bought this bantha shit story from the salty old medics. All of the men had been there in some way too; they were no strangers to hazing. Kix looked on with a sour expression on his face, though he was starting to smile against his will.

"Duran then goes on to tell Kix and the rest of us, 'So, if you hit the button again to turn off the suction, the ship will drop, because the scoop closed and it's no longer pushing the ship up, got it?' And Kix nods like the good little shiny he was - Vod was completely sold on this karking story," Sawbones laughed gruffly.

“Morrow like, leaned back in his seat and said, 'Okay kid, hit the button *now*, test it out.' And Kix did what he was told. And damned if that LAAT didn’t climb, just like they'd said it would." Saw paused to take a sip of his drink, while everyone shot some looks at Kix, half suspecting what was coming next.

"They had all of us at that point - we'd bought it hook, line and sinker," Quarter interjected with a low chuckle. "Gullible little babies that we were." The group all grinned and giggled, starting to realized what was about to happen.

Whiskey picked the story back up, "So then Duran tells Kix, ' Okay kid, hit the button to turn it off *now*.' Kix is all do do doooo (as Sawbones mimicked a silly kid ambling along cluelessly), hits the button, and then proceeds to scream like a girl as the ship bottomed out, dropping - I kriff you not - at least 500 feet in a second. We were all basically floating in air, zero gravity for a minute, watching our very short lives pass before our eyes, as Duran and Morrow laughed like two gargoyles at the group of shinies pissing themselves in front of them." Sawbones had forced the last sentence out through a stream of gurgling, wheezing laughs, while the rest of the group chuckled and gave Kix patronizing yet sympathetic looks.

"You know, those two karking a-holes never apologized for scaring a few years off our lives. I legitimately thought we were going to die," Kix snarled out, the embarrassing post, near-death experience still stinging. He looked back on it with humor, though he couldn't admit that to the group at hand. Kix saw Volte take a sip of his drink to hide a gleeful smirk, while Quarter chuckled at the memory. Kix gave his batch mate a hard look and sputtered, “Quarter, you've got no room to laugh - you screamed just as loud as I did and I know you had a short run of V tach. I thought we were gonna have to hit you with the paddles!”

Quarter positively giggled. “I can't deny it, they got us good. Those two jokers were some of the best training officers on Kamino. Force knows how they got away with even half of the stuff they did." Quarter shook his head in memory of the unparalleled shenanigans Duran and Morrow were famous for.

"Volte what about you? Got any good stories to tell from serving with the Dragon General?," Voodoo asked. "I heard Echo's first time up with her on that thing, it dove for a vulture droid and he screamed like a child over the open comm channels.” The group started laughing at the mental image of one of the more famous ARC Troopers embarrassing himself in such a way.

Volte chewed on some ice for a minute out of his glass, pondering the question. There were so many stories from Dragon Company, actually, most of which never saw the light of day. General Lin was rather infamous for tomfoolery herself, let alone the stuff she condoned within the ranks. "I wasn't there when that happened - that story was from the Battle of Teth and we weren't a Company yet. But she took Captain Primer up one day with her on that beast of hers, and when they got back he was holding onto her waist with his eyes screwed shut so tight we had to pry him off of her." The group all tittered with chuckles at that; Primer was known to be a brave, completely competent clone commander. They all struggled to imagine him afraid of anything, thought they all thought to a man they'd probably have taken any excuse to get their arms around General Lin if given the chance.

Quarter muttered softly into his glass, "You sure he was holding onto her purely out of fear?" He took a quick sip and then looked at Volte more squarely. "I've heard through the grapevine that he follows her for more reasons than just orders..." He saw Kix grin and gave his vod a wink, while Volte cleared his throat a little loudly and very obviously took a swig of his drink, shooting a quelling look at Quarter.

A new clone had joined the group about midway through the story, named Cheese. He was from the Mist Squad, under the 767 Recon Division, and the man loved anything related to gossip. Photography was a hobby of his, and he like to take group photos of his brothers when the opportunity struck. His eyes were sharp as he listened to the tea pertaining to the infamous General Lin. He suddenly pulled a data pad off his belt and held it up to snap a picture of the group, quickly blurting out "Say Cheese!," as he hit the photo button. The others stared back at him a little blandly; tolerating Cheese's habit was something most were used to by now. He'd already made the rounds through most of the clones getting proof of life many times over. They would soon realize the benefits of having allowed the somewhat socially awkward medic to record the conference in photos; the men would have many images of their brothers enjoying lighthearted moments, camaraderie and fun to look back on. Some of the men he captured in the holographic images on his data pad would not be there the next time the conference came about, and while all knew this, it was an unspoken, dark truth that moved beneath the surface like a cold current of air.

The party rolled on as more clones stuffed themselves into the bar, and Kix's night was made when Madi the young pediatrics lecturer popped up at the bar next to him, a little mischievous smirk on her cute face, one eyebrow arched as she watched Kix's face for a reaction. Volte did a double take at seeing her there, then laughed when he saw Kix's eyes nearly fall out of his head realizing she was there in person, waiting for him to speak to her. Volte looked over at Sawbones and Whiskey and sighed. "Guess I'll be crashing in your room tonight, boys."

A perky, bright voice answered him back from the other side of Kix. "Oh no! I wanted to get to know both of you."

Volte choked on his drink, his eyes going wide as he looked back at the girl in shock. She smiled back impishly.

Sawbones, Whiskey and Quarter all traded glances around, and Sawbones muttered, "We can leave the door unlocked in case you need the two of us to come rescue you at ANY point, Vod." He elbowed Volte and gave him a salacious wink, grumbling "Lucky bastards," as he sipped his drink, watching the trio head off out of the bar. Volte looked back over his shoulder, eyes wide like a prisoner stumbling off to the gallows, unsure of just what he'd suddenly been roped into, but unable to stop his feet from following the sprightly, cute girl leading him by the hand with a cheshire cat grin on her face, as Kix walked beside like a king ascending to his throne.

Credits:

Kix - CT 6116 Medic of Torrent Company, 501st Legion

Volte - CT 2403 Dragon Company CMO, property of CloneMedicKix

Sawbones - CT 2697 Wolfpack CMO, 104th Battalion, property of Wizardofrozz

Quarter - ARC 2525 Republic Intelligence medic, property of Hetalianskywalker

Whiskey - CC 6891 CMO 104th Battalion, property of Banks's-rat

Voodoo - CT 0127 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sev-on-Kamino

Cheese - CT 2437, Medic of Mist Squad, 767 Recon Division, property of Homemade-clones

Friendly - Medic of 387th Battalion, 13th Sector Army, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Chance - CT 5243 Medic of Phoenix Squad, property of The-Bad-Batch-Baroness

Patch - Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sunshinedaydream

Patcher - CT 1110 Coruscant Guard CMO, property of Stargazingbunny

Siren - CT 6161 Coruscant Guard medic, property of 523rdrebel

Sentinel - CT 26-0207, CMO of 117th Recon Battalion, property of Liluthenerd

Scope - CT 4466 Medic of 327th Battalion, property of Mythical Illustrator

Stretcher - CT 3880, Medic of 327th Star Corps, property of A-single-tulip

Heron - Medic of 218th Company, property of King-chaos-world

Jab - Junior medic of Phoenix Company, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Captain Jaro - CT 1926, CMO of 16th Medical Battalion, property of Sweetmugofcocoa

Minder - CT 6334-2 Jedi Medical Company, property of Mythical Illustrator

Carpal - CC 6666 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Mythical Illustrator

Taglist!

@mythical-illustrator @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @moonlightwarriorqueen @523rdrebel @king-chaos-world @starrrgazingbunny @the-bad-batch-baroness @swarovski-yoda @homemade-clones @hetalianskywalker @a-single-tulip @banksys-rat @sev-on-kamino @vodika-vibes @sunshinesdaydream @liluthenerd @sweetmugofcocoa @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @villanousace @theogfulcrum22 @starrylothcat @anxiouspineapple99 @mire-draws-things @cloneloverrrrr @mandos-mind-trick @padawancat97 @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @isthereanechoinhere96 @jediknightjana @wackylurker @starqueensthings @dickarchivist @amorfista @marierg

EMS dividers by MEEEEEEEE!

Final Dividers by @dystopicjumpsuit

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