#and all of that gets muddled up by using a wrong language

[varjopeura]

.

[inknopewetrust]

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

summary: you are recruited to the spider society after conducting a batch of vigilante actions against the men who killed your husband, miguel and well... their leader isn’t like the man you remembered.

pairing: miguel o’hara x spider-woman!reader [wc: 12.7k]

warnings: language. this has got everything: backstory, meeting, conflict, angst, sadness, tie-ins with the film, (i hope you're reading this in a stefon voice), ethical dilemmas, vigilante shit, violence, romantic love strains, etc., etc.

Manhattan was rainy. It was always rainy.

But let’s do this again, shall we?

The skyline was high. Muddled variants of blues and reds, the colors that had painted your life for a decade now. It was silly to imagine a world of color beyond that–it's all you knew, you had nothing left.

And all of that nothing was the consequences of the dealings of a few bad men.

You breathed in deep. They were right there, right below your feet.

Their laughter in their indifference to life was vexing. It made your blood broil and bubble to the surface where you thought your eyes may have been red and your grip on the stone building was onerous.

In the distance, police sirens blared across the city where crime did not take a backseat because their most treasure hero was rogue. People were in trouble but you saw cessation of hope with every second that passed and those in charge did nothing to avenge your husband.

Husband. Nevertheless, what you had was gone and never coming home to you. The least you could do was try to find the justice to be brought by your own hands.

"Nah, man..." One of the men–a blonde, high-tech worker from the east side of town–shook his head. "We can't go there. They've got cameras all over the place! Ain't no way we are gettin' out free."

"Well then we go downtown and hit one alongside the river. We'll set up a boat and get us to Brooklyn before they can even suspect anyone was there," another collaborator said. Blondie shook his head determined.

"You think Spider-Girl isn't gonna be waitin' for us?" He scoffed, scuffing his shoes against the pavement. You perched straighter as you peered down. Spider-Woman. It was Spider-Woman.

“She got Mikey last week, Simon two days ago… we don’t have much left and if you think robbin’ fuckin’ Wall Street is gonna save us, you’re wrong.”

A sensible criminal with blood on his hands. Nice.

“Besides, they got the police captain on her ass and while they’re out lookin’ for her, they won’t sweat the small stuff,” blondie pulled a black ski mask from his jacket.

“It’s now or never,” he slipped it on and walked to the door of the bodega on the corner. He held out his hand as if his friend was actually a true friend and not a piece to his own networked puzzle.

Your stomach turned and the sight made your spine tingle.

Outside on the sidewalk of the street in the rain of New York City, the two men who were left of the dirty dozen walked into the grocer with no intention to buy anything.

It hadn’t dawned on you that as you dropped to the pavement, you weren’t wearing your suit or mask.

The hub was quiet.

In this slick world, everything was silver and green and the headquarters were no different — yet too different for Peter to know that he wasn’t from this universe and always felt out of place.

A picture on desk that wasn’t his grounded him to a separate reality; one of love and hope and a small child’s laughter.

Spider-Byte’s was typing away on the keys beside him while he tapped away on the table top.

Nothing exciting had happened since the… glitch. It had been a long nine months without the glue that had put him back together.

That was until Spider-Byte’s computer started beeping in a manic fashion. It was a sound neither of them had heard before. A high pitched siren blaring loudly from a machine the the left of Peter, a button glowing red and flashing.

“Uh,” Peter pointed to the button, “you got any clue what that’s about?”

Spider-Byte shook her head as she pulled up a database on a screen. Her tech hands glided over the keys like music, fluid and fast and working with a purpose.

“Some system Miguel’s got here,” she muttered and Peter attempted to cover the small speaker beside the button with his hand—it didn’t work.

“Where is he? He said he’d be right back and now we’re facing the end of the wor—“

“I doubt this is the end of the world, Peter!” Spider-Byte cut him off harshly. “Now would you be useful and go find Miguel?”

As the dutiful Spider-Person he was, Peter rushed out of the central lair and into the bright white halls of the headquarters. Everyone he passed he asked the same question:

“Hey! You’ve seen Miguel anywhere?”

“Yo! Seen the big man around?”

He slid up to a group of variant Julia Carpenters as they sipped on coffee in the cafeteria. Peter gave them a sly smirk, trying to be cool, and snapped his fingers.

“Have any of you seen the boss today? Looking fine as usual.”

Synchronized, the Julia’s pointed to the empanada station and sure as shit, there was Miguel, talking with the vender who yes, just happened to also be a Spider-Man.

“Miguel!” Peter screeched from the table and Miguel’s mind went soured. A violent jolt to his instincts as the new father came barreling toward him.

“¡At no…!” Miguel mumbled to himself as Peter skidded to a halt, dropping his hand on Miguel’s shoulder with a clunk.

“Hey, Boss! Whatcha… watcha doin’ out here?” Peter chuckled nervously and Miguel narrowed his eyes. “You said you’d be right back.”

“I did,” Miguel drawled. “I told you five minutes and it’s only been three, Peter.”

Peter laughed, glancing around the space as confused gazes began to pick up on the pebbles of sweat that dripped from his temple.

“Oh! You don’t say?”

“What’s so impo—“ Miguel began but never finished. Lyla appeared out of thin air with a casual urgency unlike Peter’s frantic one.

“We’ve got a doozy here for ya, boss.”

With Lyla, everything came to life smoothly. As she snapped her fingers, holograms of screens appeared like magic and on them, an un-masked, Spider-Woman was beating the shit out of thieves in a bodega.

“Jesus,” Peter whispered to himself.

“He doesn’t come here,” Miguel replied without a smile nor a chuckle but it took Peter back.

Miguel was watching the woman carefully. This Spider-Woman was not apart of the society and was actively doing what no Spider-Person should do. However, Miguel knew the actions. He felt them deep within his bones and the mistakes he had made as a newly minted Spider-Man 2099.

“Name’s Y/n L/n… a former nurse who got mixed up in a bad batch of blood for a transfusion. This isn’t the first time we’ve been alerted about her,” Lyla debriefed and Miguel snapped.

“What do you mean, ‘not the first time?’”

“These are a group of men she’s been targeting. It’s got to do with her,” Lyla cleared her throat that was nonexistent, “canon event.”

“We have to bring her in,” Miguel began walking away from Peter and Lyla followed. “I am NOT having some vigilante shit show up on this doorstep. Peter, get Jess, brief her and get a day pass to bring along.”

“Miguel,” Peter wagered, “what if this is associated with her canon? What if she’s just an anti-hero in her world?”

“She’s not,” Lyla piped back in. “She’s a hero, hero. And this isn’t part of her canon event. You’ve gotta know how grief moves people?”

Miguel grunted, Peter sighed.

“Get Jess. I’ll wait for you,” Miguel pushed on Peter’s shoulder to send him the other way.

Once alone and down the winding halls near the center of the headquarters, Lyla spoke again perched on Miguel’s shoulder.

“Miguel, I think there’s something you should know?”

“Know what, Lyla?” Miguel’s attitude had always been sour—she had been there from his creation and it never changed. He never truly smiled, he never truly laughed.

Miguel O’Hara was a tough nut to crack in a world full of people who lived off joy and laughter.

But she could feel the sensations radiating off of him. Those strident lines of afflictions that were masked by the way he covered his face. The tense nature of his shoulders as he walked further and further away but closer to a person he’d never thought to face again.

It felt like an intrusion all over again.

“You know what, Lyla?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she defended, hologramed hand squeezing his shoulder. “But there are a million Peter’s and Gwen’s and MJ’s out there.”

“This isn’t her,” Miguel huffed. “She would never do this.”

“But she is, Miguel… and her canon event is you.”

“So a possible disruption?”

“It’s already happened,” Lyla explained, giving immediate explanation to your actions. Miguel did not know you in this way, but he could imagine why such feelings would manifest in violence.

“Good, good.”

Lyla scoffed, hopping to her feet. “I wouldn’t say it’s ‘good,’ boss. You died in her world. You were married in her world. I think she’s gonna wanna slap you for even existing in another timeline.”

“Why?” Miguel quirked a brow. “You know her or something? Keeping secrets from me now?”

To save her, Peter and Jess entered the lair with their bands glowing. Lyla simply shrugged and disappeared before they jumped into an Earth that would feel like they own but be nothing like it.

“Miguel," Jess was already shaking her head. Three months pregnant and still doing work, both Peter and Miguel would not be surprised if the child arrived wearing a suit of their own. "There's no anomaly there–there hasn't been a case in that world of a villain glitching from another."

"It's not about the bad guys," Miguel walked toward them to meet them in the middle. "What she's doing no Spider-Person has done before and what's the purpose of a society if we don't help one of our own?"

Lyla appeared between the three ready to open the portal.

"One last thing, folks!" She walked around casually glowing and pushed up her heart shaped glasses to her hairline. "She's not wearing her suit - so if you don't work fast, her identity will be known to the public and well! We just can't have that, can we?"

"Fantastic!" Peter complained as Miguel opened up the portal. "They are a bit suffocating really, if you asked me."

"Well we didn't," Miguel gruffed.

"What's her name? Just Spider-Woman?" Jess asked. "Should we just yell 'Hey! Spider-Woman! Stop it! You're actually a good person!'"

"Y/n. Her name is Y/n and don't freeze up when you see her, alright bud? Alright! See you all when you get back! Have fun!" Lyla waved, patting Miguel's leg as she walked the floor and disappeared once more.

Stretching out his legs, Peter did not miss the glare Miguel gave Lyla. His eyes cold and hardened; he knew so little of this leader but felt he knew so much. Miguel wasn't like the other Spider-People and well, he assumed perhaps you were not either.

Peter missed that he should have recognized your name.

He had been there with Miguel when the other world collapsed.

"Anything else you wanna tell us, boss?" He pushed. Miguel shook his head and slipped on his mask in more ways than one.

"She's disturbing her own canon by going rogue. I'm not going to let her destroy it because she's... upset."

Jess laughed and Miguel was indignant. "If she's a bad egg, she's a bad egg, Miguel. You can't save everyone."

"She's not a bad one!" Miguel scolded her, pointing out toward the darkness of the portal. "She's not supposed to do this and we need to fix this! Y/n is good!"

Peter smirked, wiggling his brows. He could sense Miguel's anger muddled with a nervous fear he never had. "Y/n, Miguel... first name basis already and we haven't even met her. You move fast, don't you?"

"Oh, you are so fucking annoying! She was my wife!"

Peter's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Oh no! Not again, nope!"

"She doesn't exist in this world anymore, Peter," Earth 928, "and in another timeline, she's taken the mantle."

Jess jutted her hip out as the whirring of the portal loomed over them. "So you exist in her's too then? This won't be too confusing. It's just like Peter and MJ or Gwen in the thousands of realities that exist."

"Sure, sure," Miguel said. "But there are only three realities where she exists and," he cleared his throat as he looked down the portal, "this is the last one left."

"We shouldn't risk it. We can't collapse another world."

"We won't collapse it."

"How do you know that?" Peter questioned. There was always a level of selfishness when it came to those someone loved most.

"I just... I just know! You're not in charge here, Peter. If I don't have any hesitations right now, then neither can you."

"Well then," Peter strutted through the portal and turned around before his body was completely gone, "Let's go get us another Spidey then, yeah?"

And he saluted Miguel and Jess before jumping in.

"You've been monitoring her world?" Jess asked and Miguel looked to his feet. She had never seen him so bashful. Never one to make a scene of rash emotional actions, the causation would need

"I watch over many worlds."

"Yeah but come on," She dug, "this is a lot different than those worlds. You know her."

"I don't know her," Miguel defended himself and took a step further into the portal. "She isn't my wife. She's just a version of her that I don't know."

"Mhm," Jess hummed and drummed on her arm as they remained crossed from the moment Miguel said you were his wife. "Let's go meet her then. Then you can go on and on about how she's everything you remember but not the same."

And she walked through the portal before she disappeared to leave Miguel alone.

With clenched fists, Miguel breathed in deep and appeared in a reality he promised never to interfere with.

Inside of the bodega, the two men bartered with one another in the aisle. They looked to be two friends having a conversation in the middle of the shop but their intentions were not pure.

The bell above the door rang as you entered. Shoulders and hair wet from the rain, the cashier paid you no mind as he changed the station on his portable radio sat on the counter.

There were three civilians inside. One, the cashier who was oblivious and that is the sole reason these thugs decided to hit the bodega. An 'easy' target to get in and out. Two, a woman who was going grey at her temples. And three, a teenage kid with untied sneakers.

You ducked behind a shelf as you watched them in the aisle beside you. Between the chips and pretzels they concocted their idiotic plan in the presence of innocent people as they always did–it was how their bank robbery disaster went sideways six months ago.

When civilians are present, one of them will always try and become the hero. It is what Miguel did and now he's six feet under in a cold box.

"Excuse me, Miss," the older woman pointed to the bag of chips that your hand was resting on. She turned your attention away from the men. "Could I get one of those? I don't mean to be a–"

The men began to make their moves and you were distracted by the woman. She had kind eyes. Easy and familiar and a familial feeling to them as she waited patiently for you to move.

"Yes, yes," you replied as you got out of her way. "Sorry."

You didn't know why you apologized. Maybe you felt sorry she found herself in this bodega at an hour such as this.

"No worries, dear." The boy wasn't far from her either. He was shuffling through a freezer looking for a drink that wasn't there.

As she grabbed onto the bag, the radio dropped to the floor and turned off. It startled everyone inside and the cashier filled the silence with his desperate pleas.

"Oh my," his jaw chattered, "please... I don't have anything.... I-I-I I've gotta lot of student lo-o-oans and I really n-need this job."

He was staring into a silver barrel of a gun by the hands of the blonde who orchestrated everything. The older woman screeched behind you and the freezer door slammed shut with a "oh hell no!" following its thud.

You imagined the fear they felt was the same Miguel felt that day. Sitting there, hostage on the bank floor with a check to cash from his mother for his birthday.

The check was in evidence splattered with his blood.

In the neon light of the bodega, you made a choice to never let that happen again.

The cashier kept muttering whole-hearted pleas and the friend reached over the counter to open the register's drawer but it was locked.

"Unlock it!" Blondie ordered, shaking the gun closer and closer to the cashier who looked close to wetting himself. Behind you, the older woman crouched to the floor began praying to herself.

"Unlock it now, you son-of-a-bitch! You wanna end up on the floor? Open it!"

The cashier, who now you realized had a name badge on that read 'Max', began to reach for the keys that were hooked onto the counter.

Fear in his eyes, anticipation in theirs, anger in yours.

Anger always caused the tides to turn.

You reached your hand forward in a quick motion and the web that released itself from your wrist snatched the keys from the hook. Max flew backwards in a jolt of despair and the barrel was soon pointed at you.

"Oh you have got to be kidding!" Blondie screeched and fired a shot. He missed. It was sent right into a chip bag and exploded them all over the floor. You tossed the keys to the older woman and went for the gun.

Like child's play, the gun flew across the bodega and into your palm to be crushed like a piece of fruit. It was still hot from being fired and its pieces crumbled to the floor.

"What the fuck–" the woman stuttered.

"So," Blondie spoke and you hated his tone. Condescending and mighty. "Spider-Woman has a face..."

This friend pulled a bracelet from his pocket that lit up green. It glowed as brightly as the neon signs in the window blurred by the rain.

"She does," you replied. "And it will be the last face you see."

He laughed. They always did. It was an inescapable pattern of dealing with enemies who thought they would win. They never did, and they all thought the same way.

"Is that so? I would really hate to have the Bugle's headline to read: Spider-Woman killed innocent civilians at the 6th street Bodega." He let out a series of tisks with a shake of his head. "Who knew heroes could be so bad?"

He looked to his friend. "Herman..."

The friend, Herman, locked eyes on you and approached quickly and with a heavy hand charging with the green of the gauntlet. You could hearing the whirring and the loading of the power.

Instead of moving out of the way, you turned and pushed the older woman away. She slid on the slick floor into a corner with her bag of chips still in her hand.

The shock hit you with a staggering power. It blew you backwards into an ice freezer in the back of the store. As you landed on the ground, the woman whimpered in the corner and the boy caught your eye underneath a table by the restrooms.

He couldn't have been more than fifteen.

And he wasn't going to die today.

So, you got back on your feet and brushed off your jacket. The residual sting of the shock began to wear off and the men looked at you with a challenge.

"Who knew fighting the Spider would have been so easy?" Blondie laughed. "Where were you when we started? It would have been a much more fair fight."

"Busy," you spat.

"Huh," he hummed with a nod of his head. It was like he was trying to clock you–the way his eyes squinted and he tilted his head just a bit higher than it normally would have been. "Say, have we met before?"

"I'm sure I would remember. This is certainly a pleasurable encounter."

Blondie didn't let the words sting. You weren't a Spider who stung with a bite.

"I've seen your face before..."

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," you quirked a brow and Herman charged his gauntlet again. "Is this the worst you can do? Threaten a few innocents and have your friend do all the work? What happened to real criminals, huh?"

"Funny," he walked like a villain. Hands in his pockets, shoes scuffing the floor. "I've heard that one before." His mind raked the last time he heard that.

"Well it must say something about you then."

Herman went to shock again and you shot a web at him. He went soaring into a wall, head hitting it hard.

"I know!" He snapped his fingers like a lightbulb went off inside. Clarity now in a world filled of unclear ways. "I've seen your picture before."

"So what?" You matched his movements as he moved toward the center of the store. Every tight aisle blocked your view like a shutter.

"'Is this the worst you can do?' Someone told me that a short time ago. A man who tried to get in my way."

Miguel.

He was at the bank. He had his check ready, he was at the counter. Miguel had his wallet out and prepared.

He had a photo in his wallet.

"And I think you know how that turned out for him. But here's the thing, Spider-Woman... I don't hate the idea of having that same fate met you tonight. I imagine being so deep underneath the ground it gets a little lonely."

He stopped at the center, so did you.

"I think it's time for you to join him."

But all you saw was red.

There was an intense pulsing pressure inside of the bodega. You weren't sure how much time had passed as your fist dug deeper and deeper into the man who spoke too much and had little to act upon.

Whimpers of those left inside were deferred. The begging of his friend fell on deaf ears.

In the corner beside the three civilians–the woman, teen, and cashier–a glowing hexagonal portal opened to the dimension in which they lived. It hummed like a freezer and moved like something from the cinema they watched last year but instead of aliens appearing from the abyss, three people emerged no different than the way they walked.

They were people, human. Three Spider-People in a world that already had a Spider-Woman.

In their perspective the heroes were welcome. They were terrified and huddled within one another as one robber was webbed to the wall and the other was being beaten to a pulp by a woman with super-human strength.

"Peter," Miguel motioned to the civilians in the corner, "get 'em out of here."

The humble servant Peter was, he acted quickly. His nervous high-pitched voice soothing their fears with panic and disbelief that three masked people walked through a portal as though it was any other day.

"Get the man down, Jess," Miguel pointed to the guy webbed to the wall. Jess tipped her head to the side with an amused, sly grin on her face as he wept. Chick's a badass, she thought.

A violent one at the moment, albeit, but a badass nonetheless.

Fist hovered in the air, you went rigid as the sensations coursed through you. A striking feeling that felt more like a severe headache that came on too quickly, the immense pressure your body suddenly took on wasn't unfamiliar.

You had felt them before. It happened when something in the air changed. When something you knew could disappear or when time was suddenly running short. There was no term for it nor did any other person in this world feel what you felt.

The man below you gurgled. It was, just like the sensation, a sound that awoken something within you. It cleared the vision from red to reality and suddenly the harsh lighting of the bodega and the reflections of the neon signs on the linoleum filled in the edges.

"Shit," you stammered as your grip on his body lessened with every second.

Those consistent strums of radiating itching went from the top of your head to the base of your skull. A humming in the distance turned into a whirring sound that was too extraneous to come from a small place such as this one.

In an instant, the aluminum window covers were pulled from the ceiling by a pair of red, glowing lines reminiscent of webs. It shut out the outside world and the rain that had been pouring down for hours. The neon lights no longer reflected themselves on the flooring.

A hero, a villain... at some point those had all become the same to you.

The ideas that propelled them to act were all based in something that made them feel passionate enough to target an opposing force. When a hero turns to the fragmented middle of the road and balances the line of enemy and friend, the revelations of such shame grow from a deeper place of pain.

"Let him go."

The voice in your head sounded so much like Miguel.

And once your senses stopped going wild, your heart lept into your throat at the thought.

You buried him. You buried him six feet under.

The door to the bodega's alley opened and closed.

"Come on," the voice said again, "let him go and we can clean up this mess."

"Stop," you mumbled, shutting your eyes as your fists clenched the man's jacket harder. The one that had been in the air dropped to his chest. It was wet with the mixture of sweat and blood.

"Stop it please. Please stop it."

"Those civilians are gonna go get the police," his voice was low. It was that kind of voice that Miguel would use to talk you down from a nightmare–or maybe what this dimension had made you.

"And when they get here, what do you think they're gonna do when they see you sittin' over him?"

"Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking–" you repeated again and again. A thud in the distance set the blonde's friend on the floor and a web kept him in place once more.

"Boss they're gonna take her," another voice, not one you had ever head before filled the room and suddenly you were terrified that it wasn't voices you were hearing in your head. "We gotta bring her back with us."

"Alright! Three darling innocents saved again by, you guessed it," a far too cheerful voice added to the collection, "me."

You were curled into yourself over the blonde. Peter saw a woman, not dressed in a traditional uniform, use her powers for bad. But he saw the destruction of the man and knew that it wasn't from sheer wickedness.

He had seen you care so much before. It had to come from a place of caring.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "this is... a lot." And then he blanched.

"Jess," Miguel motioned to your static figure. He turned around and walked away as if to say 'you got it.'

There was an inflection in his voice that made Jess bristle. She hated the tone; removed and vacant. He was already living a humorless existence and the idea that this dimension made you act this way fractured himself in a new way.

"You heard him," Peter went scouring the aisles, plucking a bag of dried beef from a shelf to shove his mouth with. "You got this!" He gave a half-hearted thumbs up.

So, Jess had this.

She didn't crouch down. She didn't attempt to place a hand on your shoulder or help clean off your hands.

Jess kneeled on the other side of the man and your distant eyes met hers to know you weren't alone. You weren't alone in your pain and you certainly weren't alone in this world.

Your first thought was that she was pretty. Your second thought was that this woman was pregnant and that made you sad.

"Looks like you've gotten yourself in a bit of a mess," she spoke quietly but acted quickly. She placed her fingers on the pulse of the man.

He was breathing.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Jess."

"Jess," you repeated, "and Jess comes from...?"

She saw your lip tremble, eyes welling with tears. Jesus, she thought, she wasn't ready to be a mother if she couldn't deal with a thirty-something spider-woman who happened to be Miguel's wife in three different dimensions.

"Earth–404."

"Earth?"

"You felt that, right?" She motioned to her head, mimicking a tingling sensation with her fingertips. You nodded.

"Well, a lot of us have it... and I mean people like you and me... and I know it makes no sense, but if you can fight mutant enemies, maybe you can imagine there are other worlds out there."

"Like planets?" You sniffed and your hands began to shake. Everything bubbling to the surface of pain and anger. "You're from another planet?"

"Not really, but kinda, sure," she agreed for your sake.

"And your friends?"

"Different planets too."

You breathed in a shaking breath. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the sirens begin to blare. It may have been 10 blocks or 6 blocks, but they were coming and they were coming in fast.

"Now," Jess cleared her throat, "it looks like you've gotten yourself in a little situation that needs a bit of help."

Jess was the most sympathetic she had ever been. The way your hands shook, your tiredness expanded beyond you. Maybe it was the fact she knew what made you go off the deep end that made her feel more thoughtful.

"They, um-"

"It's ok," Jess said and didn't let you finish. "We just need to get you somewhere safe, ok? Me and my friends can help you."

The sheen in your eyes was cloudy. Face wet and brushed with splatter of a man who was not yours, there was a lifeline to get you out of here and you had to take it.

You shook your head softly before it became more frantic. "I don't have anyone to go to... I don't have anyone."

"You do," her hand hovered over the man's body as Peter came back and lowered himself beside Jess. "You're gonna have a whole group behind you if you let us help."

"We'll get you all cleaned up and then introduce you. There is a whole universe of us out there."

"Us?"

"Spider-People?" He questioned, brows furrowed. Jess hadn't been explicit.

"A society," she drew back from Peter. "Like myself and Peter," indirectly introducing him, "and you and–" she stopped short.

"And you want me there?"

"Yeah," Peter said. "I mean, we could use some more badass Spider-Women around."

"But I–"

"Don't worry about all this, alright? We all have our moments."

Peter reached out his hand for you to take. There was a certain level of hesitancy you felt; perhaps it was a trick or maybe you were trapped in another nightmare. But Peter gave a small smile. He gave off a warmth that Jess had exuded and made you nearly forget that there were three voices and not their two.

You took Peter's hand.

The man was breathing, he would live even if he didn't deserve to. The sirens were no more than 3 blocks away.

"You gonna need one of these," Jess held out her hand to reveal a rubber bracelet.

"A day pass," she explained, "to help you adjust."

"Adjust?"

"It's better to ask fewer questions," Peter scrunched his face. "Less confusion for you."

You slipped on the bracelet.

"We good here?"

It was that voice again, the one from the back of your head.

"We gotta go. Time is ticking."

Except this voice wasn't the back of your head now that you've realized there were others in this bodega. As you rose from the floor and began walking as Jess led the way, the friend was passed out on the floor and a glowing hexagonal portal was lingering in the back of the store.

The sounds, the sensations... it meant something.

"All good, Boss. The robbers will live."

The man in the blue suit–from what you could tell–nodded and looked in your direction but said nothing. There was something in your body that was sending alarm bells to your mind but you ignored them.

They weren't like the sensations you had felt before. These were different in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Right let’s, ah,” he hesitated as his hands rested on his hips. You looked at him and he looked away. “Get moving then.”

“What’s going to happen when I go through that thing?” You pointed to the portal.

He didn’t look at you. He couldn’t look at you. All he saw was his wife who used to laugh at his corny jokes and rest her head on his shoulder in bed. He saw, in one dimension, the mother of his child and he saw a happy, generous nurse who loved her job.

But when he looked at you know, part of that image was shattered.

You were a little bit broken and a little bit worn down by the world you lived in. You had blood-splattered clothing and tear stained cheeks and it was enough to make his heart ache more than it already did.

“It will pop you out just where we want you,” Peter said as he took a step into the portal and his body began to glitch with the moving sphere around him. “Just walk in and it will do the rest.”

“And it’s safe?”

“So far, yeah!” And he ran off before he disappeared.

“I’ll see you there, alright?” Jess turned to you, then looked at Blue before giving a smile that was as flat as a dead man’s heart beat.

She walked in just as suave as she came.

Suddenly, it was just the two of you and it felt strange.

There were so many feelings lingering that you couldn’t grasp onto. The air was comfortable but hesitant; there was a barrier of distrust and burden, but one that itched to reach out a hand to help.

“You know,” you sniffed back a chuckle, “I half thought I was crazy for a second.”

“About what?” He asked. “The fact that you almost killed a man or the portals? Both are equally crazy.”

In any other circumstance you would have thought he was being sarcastic.

You shook your head. You were beginning to feel the weight of your actions.

“I thought I heard voices… a voice in my head.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah,” you glanced at the portal.

A lull. The whirring of the portal, the sounds of police cars went mute when you looked back. Blue was looking at you but you couldn’t see his eyes. You couldn’t see a thing and indeed, you didn’t know his name.

Blue.

Miguel’s favorite color was blue.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly. “For coming here. I think I’m still a bit shell-shocked,” you laughed and he knew you were, “but maybe I was waiting for this… I don’t know.”

“It’s our job.”

Blue was done with the conversation at that point. He walked to the portal, his body glitching just like Peter and Jess’s did.

“Come on,” he motioned to you.

“What’s your name? The other two—they introduced themselves.”

“Spider-Man.”

“That’s not your name.”

He let out a huff. “You wanna be caught by the police? Fine.” He began walking again and the glitching became more erratic.

“Who’s to say you’re all not some group of aliens trying to kidnap me? At least the other two looked like me!”

His patience too was skating on thin ice.

“Come on, kid, let’s go.”

Maybe you weren’t crazy.

“What did you just say?”

He turned his body back to you and walked out of the portal. On the precipice of where you stood just beyond and where he did, he towered over you.

“I’m giving you a chance here. You come with me now or you’re dead here.”

“Kid. You said ‘kid.’ Why did you say that? Why did you say I was a kid?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, let’s go.” Like a rhythmic pattern, he turned back around.

“I’m not crazy. I know I’m not fucking crazy.” You sure as hell looked it. “Why did you say kid? Who told you to call me kid?”

“No one—“

A sudden banging on the door to the bodega caught the attention left in the room. Blondie started to gurgle, you stood steadfast, and Blue was agitated.

You took a step into the portal. Progress.

“Nobody calls me kid, no one. Why won’t you tell me your name? Who the hell are you people? Who are you?”

“We don’t have time for this!” The way he said your name that followed was one you had heard a million times.

It was just like Miguel used to say.

“Take off your mask.” You demanded and stepped further again.

“Take off your fucking mask or I’m stepping out of this goddamn thing and going to prison.”

The police began to feverishly hit the glass with their batons.

“Take it off,” you begged, “please. Please let me see you.”

And how could he say no to his wife who begged so mercilessly?

There was a time where you replayed that moment over and over in your mind.

You could still feel the way your breath caught in your chest. An immense wave of emptiness washed from you and filled with a jittery dismay that had no outlet.

His eyes were no different; the way his lips sat and his brow furrowed.

You felt the silent shed of tears mask your face before the glass breaking set Miguel moving toward you, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the portal.

His touch was the same.

And when he opened his mouth, what he sounded like was different from what he said and you were quick to realize that this Miguel was not your Miguel.

This Miguel despised people who lived happy lives.

This Miguel was mean and callous and demanding

This Miguel worked beyond reasonable hours and made being a Spider-Man his life’s purpose.

That was not your Miguel.

There was no making sense in that moment. You either believed it or you didn't and if you didn't, then they'd drop you back off in a world that had your face plastered on wanted posters and big screens in the middle of the city.

So you made sense of it and made some semblance of life within the four walls of the Spider Society headquarters with the Grade A asshole known as Miguel O'hara – not your husband.

The grief of that worked in waves. It came and went when life continued to move. It was strange to think that what brought you here, to this future, occurred one year ago.

Sat by a window looking out into an Earth that was not yours, you swung your legs as those thoughts crossed your mind. The chatter of a thousand Spider-people filled the space around you.

A thud sounded on the beam a few feet from you. Soft, nearly mute shoes tapping their way beside you. Green. The color of artificial grass in a children's playset, nearly blue.

"Watcha doing?"

There was never a moment of peace here. But you closed you eyes, sighed and a smile quirked on your lips.

"You daydreaming? I wonder what it's like out there..." Gwen Stacy joined the Spider-Society three months ago. "It looks so... contempo."

"Contempo? Where did you hear that?"

"I read you know," she tipped her head up in mock offense. "Kids do read when they're in school."

"Yeah, yeah," you brushed her off.

"So... what are you up to today? I was thinking we could monitor the dimensions with Jess and maybe catch a bad guy or two–" Gwen's fists mimicked boxing, "–and then Peter said he'd bring Mayday around–"

"Slow down," you chuckled. "I am up to nothing, thanks for asking and if that's what you want, sure."

Her eyes lit up when on most days they didn't.

"Really!?"

"Mhm, yeah, sure."

"Great!" Gwen got to her feet and wrung her hands. "Jess was in the control center so–"

"Control center?"

Gwen hummed, hands clasping behind her back comically.

"Yep! Just... chillin' by a screen. You know, she's got that baby on the way and all so we thought it'd be best to keep her inside for the time being and she doesn't like that but she said–" Gwen went on and on as the words came pouring out.

"Gwen."

"–that she would rather die than have to sit here and watch screens all day. I told Peter she would hate it and he agreed with me but sometimes he brings–"

"Gwen."

"–Mayday around just to cheer us up that we haven't gone on that many missions and its always well... you know... and we feel like we can't do anything to help out sometimes–"

"Gwen!" You shouted at her. She stopped her rambling; blue eyes wide and ears listening. "Just... take a breath, alright?"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"You don't have to be sorry," a sharp breath steadied you. "I'm not going to go with you to the control room."

"Please," she begged. You imagined this is what it was like having a teenage daughter who wanted the most unattainable of things. "I promise it will be fine! Miguel's not even there so you don't have to worry about what he said last time!"

"That was three days ago, Gwen!"

"So what!?"

The last time was three days ago.

Ever since you arrived, it had been nothing but anger and hostility pushed toward you from him but you were not easy on him either. It was hard facing a piece of your past that had every connection but no foundation at the same time.

Earth 9591 was in ruins and the screens replayed the horrors of the people over and over. It was desolate. Earth was crumbling in on itself and a medieval Rhino had found itself in the mess as Earth 9591 Peter was on his last leg.

According to Miguel, this Peter was supposed to experience this.

"We can't just let him die, Miguel," you argued as he stood up on his platform above you and Peter. "There is a chance he could live and we're reducing him to nothing because of his goddamn canon?"

"We can't mess with it, you know that." Miguel's patience was running thin. "Every time we can't interfere you come here with the same argument and the answer is always no. It will always be no."

"Why?" You pushed. Sometimes just seeing his face now made you mad. The questions of why this Miguel got to live when your's didn't was something that constantly simmered within you.

"You plucked me from my Earth and brought me here so why can't we do that for him? He'd be healthy and safe here."

"This is supposed to happen to him," he huffed your name as he turned back to the screens. "Not every battle is going to be one that Spider-Man wins and if we mess with it, we threaten that whole dimension."

"Well it sure as hell looks like it's in a bit of trouble, boss," Peter let out a nervous chuckle.

"And so it is."

"But what of Rhino, hm?" He hated the way you rose your eyebrows in question. Every version of you did that. "That's not supposed to be his fate."

"One less villain we have to worry about."

You let out a frustrated groan. "When did you become so heartless? We save people here, Miguel. We don't let them suffer."

"I'm not heartless. I'm being realistic and the fact is that 9591 Peter isn't gonna live and his world will become uninhabitable. That is part of his canon, end of story."

"So my canon said to bring me here?" You asked, hands on your hips. Peter inched backwards from you because he could feel the rumblings of the volcano bubbling.

"Take me from my home and bring me here for what? To have another person go along with every decision you make? Newsflash, Miguel, that's not going to happen."

"Oh, really?" He laughed, sarcastically, and looked down at you from above.

"Yes, really. Maybe this canon bullshit is just that, bullshit. Maybe you made a mistake–"

"I didn't make a mistake," he defended loudly. "I am not letting other worlds get destroyed because of stupid decisions."

"So it's only a stupid decision when it's a reality that we both exist in?"

If Peter hadn't known any better this would have sounded like a fight between a married couple.

"That's not what I said," Miguel brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and squeezed. "We can't go around making those same mistakes. I am not putting any other lives in danger."

"But you did it when it benefitted you."

Miguel mumbled to himself up there. You couldn't hear. Peter took more steps back and Spider-Byte ducked behind her consul. Miguel's brown mop of hair slicked back with the motion of his hand.

"Well you would've liked that world too."

"I liked the one I was from."

God, some days he really disliked you.

At the same time, when Miguel looked down at you, he saw the wife he knew in a different capacity and it sent his mind spiraling. He didn't sleep, he barely took the time to care for himself because all he could think about was the dimensions of happiness that you both had and the one you've both found yourselves in now.

He hated that he loved the body of the woman he knew but couldn't fully trust the version of you that existed now.

"We're not going."

"Miguel,"

He lept from the platform and onto the level you stood on. Still as large as before, his shadow filled your space before he did and for some ungodly reason, the presence of this Miguel made your heart pump furiously as your husband had.

Miguel had that look in his eyes that made them appear red. Fist clenched at his sides and that same lingering sadness emitting from his person.

"Not another word."

He hated the challenge you took from him.

"Why is it ok that you took me from my dimension? To serve some sick purpose of remembering your wife?" You spat at him.

You were just like her... just a little more broken.

"I'm not her, Miguel."

"You think I don't know that?" His voice was nearly caught in his throat. "You think I don't know that you're not her? It's pretty goddamn obvious you're not her."

"Oh yeah?" Your voice was no different.

You hated when you fought with Miguel in your dimension and that didn't change in this one.

Peter thought he should look away.

"Well she's not here, is she?"

Miguel stared at you. He couldn't help the way his eyes moved over your face. He saw the same eyes, nose, and lips. You were his wife just as he was your husband.

"No," he said as a ghostly whisper, "she's not."

"And maybe I'm not like her but you're not like my Miguel either... so don't make this fall on me. I didn't ask to come here."

"You're here now," Miguel's voice was devoid of feeling. "So get used to the rules. We're not going."

And he stalked off with Peter following on his tail.

If you closed your eyes you could see fragments of Miguel. Now, however, this Miguel was beginning to eclipse those memories.

"Shit..." Spider-Byte snickered from behind her monitor. Her blue glow filling your vision as you looked at her. "I wouldn't take that, mama. I'd kick his ass."

Miguel wasn't there. He was off saving a dimension because canon was all that mattered and Jess was monitoring that other universes just as Gwen had said.

It was a relief.

So, you sat back and watched as Jess and Gwen flipped through the different footage from the dimensions that either lit up red for an anomaly or maintained green for a perfect balance.

Jess flipped through them quickly. Every world passing by your face within a second of seeing the light on the panel turn green. The few instances of red sent her pressing on a communication button before Gwen could complain that she wanted to go out and fight.

Gwen lingered on worlds. She looked at the images as though she wished to be a part of them.

She hesitated moving on from a boy in a black suit just a second too long.

"Gwen?" You asked her as her hand hovered over the button. She was intently looking at him as he moved about the fire escape.

"Gwen?" You reached out a hand to shake her shoulder. She bristled out of her spell and pressed the button before you could ask any questions.

It would be several months later that you'd learn that the boy was the source of it all.

Miles Morales had heard a million versions of the same story.

It all began with a name and that named person being bit by a radioactive spider that magically gave them powers and they used them to save the world, or fight street crime, or kill mice (in the case of that Spider-Cat he saw in the lobby).

They were all the friendly, neighborhood hero that the world needed.

Until the collider messed with their functions and required a society such as this to take on a much larger purpose.

And Miles was taken aback.

He had never felt so seen sans the moment he walked through the doors of the complex. Every turn he made, a new Spider-Person was uniquely fit into their world so different than his own.

Within the chamber of villains from other dimensions, he saw a Spider-Woman without a suit.

"So people like, live here?" Miles asked Gwen who shrugged.

"Some do. We can stay for as long as we like and then go back to our dimensions when we need to."

"And suits are optional?"

Hobie turned around and gave Miles as questionable gaze.

"A uniform is binding, man," he told Miles. "Use what makes you comfortable."

Gwen nearly galloped ahead to the Spider-Woman with a digital portfolio. Miles saw the way Gwen's eyes lit up just as they did when they saw each other again.

Hobie was the one to introduce you. Your named rolled off his tongue like butter–so casual and cool in a way Miles did not believe he ever could be.

"She lives here," He explained. "Can't really go back to her dimension so she does a lot of cataloguing. The main man doesn't want her out of missions... you know," Hobie spun his finger near his forehead, "little crazy that one."

"I'm not crazy, Hobie," you called out as Gwen pointed toward your group.

"No, you're right," he corrected himself. "He's the crazy one."

"That's more like it," you smiled and Miles felt a boyish crush form in his stomach. "Hi Miles. I've heard a lot about you."

You did. Gwen had been giddy in the way she reminisced about her time with Miles. Even Peter put in his two-cents about the way he trained him and it went incredibly poorly for the greater part of their journey together.

You missed a good chunk of time by not being present when they all converged on the same dimension. It may have saved you from yourself.

"Hi," he waved back nervously.

The party kept walking with your addition. Beyond the orange cells of villains captured and waiting to be returned home, a center of technology he could dream of appeared in front of him.

It was just a tour.

Lyla appeared beside you.

"Miguel's hangry," she complained as she looked at her non-existent nail-beds.

"He's probably just angry."

"No," she shook her bob, "it's the hangry kind. You should have the kid pick up something for him... a gift."

"Gift," you chuckled. Miles looked so green. He was amazed by the technology of the go-home-machine that you weren't sure how he would react when he reached the hub. Walking through all of the test technology before going to Miguel's station... he'd be on cloud nine.

"He'll be expecting the party soon."

"I'll stay behind."

You were certain Miguel would be able to hear this conversation but Lyla had a mind of her own–she was artificial after all.

"You should come with. Miles could use your perspectives."

"What perspectives?" This was the longest conversation you had ever held with her. "Oh, Miles," you mimicked, "don't beat criminals to a pulp... um, don't let your anger get the best of you... don't kill people.... yeah, good advice."

"I meant a motherly figure here."

"I'm not a mother, Lyla. Besides, he's got Jess for that."

Lyla glitched to the other side of you. "Jess hasn't taken to him like she did you and Gwen."

"He's got Peter."

"But he could use you too."

You gave a tight-lipped hum.

"Or," she countered, "maybe you need someone like him. It's always strange what effect kids have on adults... makes them... soft or something. You should see the videos of Miguel!" She laughed, you didn't.

"He liked to play soccer with her."

Her. In another dimension, you had a daughter.

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked her.

She waved her hand dissuasively. "Miguel's not going to, so I might as well."

The party began to make their exit. Down to the liar they went and as they walked, Lyla floated in the air beside you. Miles kept peaking back like a child on a holiday.

"Miles," you called out to him.

"Yes?" He turned around quickly and at attention. He was a cute kid. So nervous and out of his element. If it weren't for his merry misfit group of friends, Miguel was sure to eat him alive.

"Do you have a question or is there a reason you keep looking at me?"

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. Miles then pointed to Lyla.

"Is she a Spider-Person too?"

"No," you told him and Lyla glitched to him. "An A.I. that Miguel created. She knows all."

"She flatters me," Lyla murmured back a smile.

Miles turned back around and continued on with his conversation that bounced between Gwen and Hobie. Lyla disappeared from the hallway as the sounds of old, tinkered experiments and Miles' struggles painted a picture of a much different boy in your mind.

While his struggles were not yours and you'd never understand them completely, his want to belong struck a chord with you in a way it did with Gwen.

There was a family that could be built here if the realities of pain could be ignored.

Above on his floating platform, Miguel slowly descended as Miles gaped in a slight awe. Yes, it was dramatic. Yes, it was unnecessary and it made you roll your eyes.

Hobie stuck to the wall in the back. Gwen took Miles to the edge and you leaned up against a pillar not far from Hobie.

"Miguel O'Hara," Gwen introduced, "meet Miles Morales."

And then Miles butchered his introduction with cheer. He offered up those empanadas which Miguel slipped right into the trash.

And like Gwen, he fumbled his words by rambling about how to catch Spot.

Miguel threw the trash can at them both only for Hobie to sneak the empanada out of the box and into his hand without blinking.

And then everything spiraled out of control.

Miguel's meter began to spike an angry red as the frantic nature of his focus within this world had been protecting the multi-verse. Here, in this room, Miles was the supposed source of it.

If it wasn't for Miles, many of his problems wouldn't exist and he'd be grateful but he can't be, simply because they are truly real.

"Hey Miguel!" Peter's voice broke through the silent seconds. Miles perked up at the sound. "Come on, go easy on the kid. He had a terrible teacher. He had no chance."

"Peter!"

The two hugged like old friends.

"Miles!" Peter put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be afraid of my friend Miguel. He just looks scary. He's got no bite."

He had seen it once. He chose to ignore it.

So he went on with his little break up of Miguel's serious moment and you watched unfold from the shadows, the orange glow of your tablet keeping you busy while Mayday swung around the room and Miles exasperatedly came to terms with Peter being a father.

"-You always say the 'fate of the multiverse' and my brain dies."

You chuckled to yourself, glancing up at Peter as he circled Miguel. Miguel was holding Mayday like he had never held a child in his life.

That was the kind of thing your Miguel did.

"You guys smell that?" Peter sniffed into the air. He swiftly picked up Mayday and swung right by Miles and Gwen and straight to you.

"You smell that right?" He held her up high. Yes, yes you did smell that.

"That is entirely your problem, Peter."

"Miles–" Miguel caught their attention again. "–You disrupted a canon event."

"Canon event?"

"The kid wasn't thinking," Peter interjected. He held onto Mayday as you strung a web for her to bounce on. Miguel was half torn between the conversation he tried to be stern about and the watching you weave a web for that little girl.

"That's not how he works."

"That's insulting," Miles commented.

Hobie got up from the floor to stand next to you. He caught Mayday in the air, saluting her with two fingers.

"Taking a crap on the establishment... I salute you."

"What are you upset about?" Miles furrowed his brows as Miguel stepped off the platform and walked towards him. The boy would be amiss if he hadn't felt his stomach drop to his feet in the menacing way Miguel O'Hara walked.

"When isn't he upset about something?" You murmured from the back.

"I saved those people."

Ah, yes. Pavitr's dimension. Miguel had been in the go-home-department when it happened.

"And that's the problem," Miguel clarified. "Lyla, do the thing."

As she always did, Lyla appeared with a semi-oblivious nature.

"Huh? What thing?"

"The thing... what do you mean 'what thing?' The information explaining thing!"

She gave a casual 'ok' and the room changed before you.

You had never seen everything before.

Jess had talked about it, Peter mentioned what it looked like, and a few others who had seen it claimed it left them more confused than anything.

It was a bright blue tree, in a sense. Woven with a variation of color that reminded you of the sea at mid-day and the sky at night, everything was a timeline of complete facts of the world. Every moment of every person's lives were tied to this one branch of 'everything.'

Expansive and high, the tree of everything bloomed over your heads and Miles was the one trying to come to terms with the sincerity of it. However, just as he had begun to grasp the idea of everything being resembled by a tree with branches that diverged from its timeline, the room changed to a red web.

Hundreds and hundreds of webs interconnected by lines that captured the very lives in that room. All of them facing convergence by multiple lifelines to different events, canons, and realities that make up a person's existence in the, as he had coined, the Spider-Verse.

"The lines... where the nodes converge?" Miles asked aloud.

"They are the canon."

Every web around him had different nodes. Some had more than others, some had barely any. He noticed a cluster of three big webs with few canon nodes.

"Their chapters apart of every Spider's story, every time. Some good, some bad... some very bad."

Miguel pulled down a cluster to showcase the very bad. You had a sinking feeling somewhere along the line the 'very bad' also included you.

A row of Spider-People emerged in the same position. He saw Peter, he saw Gwen, he recognized you, and then himself leaning over the body of a loved one who perished too soon.

Like a story, Miguel walked through varied canon events that were to occur in many Spider stories. A police captain, a lover, the event that turns someone into a hero, the struggles of the hero.

Miles looked at each of you as a fragment of your past appeared before him.

"That's how the story is supposed to go. Canon events are the connections that bind our lives together and those connections can be broken that why anomalies are so dangerous. Inspector Singh's death was a canon event."

A police captain.

"You weren't supposed to be there."

Even though you weren't there, you saw it unfold from the safety of Lyla's simulation. People running, a bridge nearly collapsing.

"And you weren't supposed to save him. That's why Gwen tried to stop you."

You could see the gears in his brain turning. He was hurt, misguided in his efforts to be a good Spider-Man because it was suddenly becoming a conflict for him. Miles tried to be good. He tried to save people and even doing so, he seemed to mess up.

It was so different from the Spider-Woman you used to be.

"I thought you were trying to save me," Miles admitted to Gwen who had turned her back from him. She kept her eyes to the ground.

"I was. I-I was doing both," she took a chance to gaze back at him only to see the hurt.

She was just doing her job.

"And now, Miles," Miguel sighed and he walked around the space. He planted his feet beside you and Miles took a glance and couldn't tell who was friend or foe.

He didn't know where he stood himself.

"Because you changed the story, Pavitr's dimension is unraveling. If we're lucky, we can stop it. We haven't always been lucky."

Miguel looked at you. He looked at you with a sheen in his eyes that you'd hadn't see from this version of him. For once, he looked as sad as he felt on the inside.

And for once, he wasn't fighting with you about what was right or wrong in that moment.

"That wasn't me!" Miles defended. "That was the Spot."

"It's what happens when you break canon."

"How do you know?"

"Because I broke it once myself."

There was a part of you that wanted out. You wanted out right that second because you had seen enough. You had seen the destruction, had been part of some destruction, and seeing Miguel's world crumble animatedly in front of you wasn't something you wanted. But your feet stuck to the floor. Planted, like mud, waiting to be freed.

It was your story too and you didn't even know what happened.

"I found another world where I had a family. Where I was happy."

In the web, the cluster of three was connected by one single strand to a much larger web with varied canon events. Whatever this was, Miles imagined, was Miguel's universe.

"At least a version of me was. And that version of myself was killed."

This time trying to catch a thief who stole a woman's purse. Not a bank robbery.

"So I replaced him. I thought it was harmless."

You looked away at the scenes. Miguel with her. A little brown haired girl who loved soccer and he did her homework at the kitchen table with her. A father who looked adoringly at a daughter who was joyous and knew no pain.

"But I was wrong."

Then the world began to collapse. In his arms, the girl disappeared as though she had never existed.

"Isn't that right, Peter?"

Your head shot up towards Peter who looked away from you. He had seen you before, in a different reality where you too were happy with the life you lived and where you were happy with a daughter who loved Miguel too.

"Peter?" You gave a weak call to him. He shut his eyes tightly. "Peter, you knew?"

Miles felt the way you felt. A shell of a hero without a purpose with people who made very choice feel like a mistake.

You walked up to Peter. Miles saw the white-knuckle grip you had on the pink robe. This was more than just friends making choices feel like a mistake.

"You knew me?"

Miles glanced back at the web. The three small webs that had little to them stuck out like a bouquet of flowers. Each their own small story.

“Whose is that?” Miles gestured as he tried to ignore the way you prodded at Peter for answers. Perhaps Miles already knew that Miguel had made this more complicated than it needed to be.

He had already destroyed one reality for happiness. Miles imagined that this man could ruin many more if it meant one more second of living.

“These ones?” Miguel pointed to the web of three.

You knew it was yours without even realizing it.

“That’s mine," you breathed in deep.

Even though you hadn't gotten along in this world, Miguel felt the weight of his secrecy fall heavily onto his shoulders.

“You see, Miles,” Miguel started, “there are infinite dimensions were we exist. All these webs here,” he pointed to the connecting lines that reappeared of many lives, “are realities were someone like you may exist. Maybe not as Spider-Man but as something.”

Miguel looked to you and for the first time since he met you in your reality, he saw the woman he fell in love with.

“And her dimensions look a bit different.”

“Why?” Miles questioned. “Why don’t ours look like that?”

“Because you can exist in infinite realities, Miles,” you told him in a voice that reminded him of his mother telling him a relative died. “And I can’t.”

“There is only three of her that exist in our… Spider-Verse, as you put it,” Miguel stated. “And one of them collapsed.”

In a hologram, he saw you in the world they had all just witnessed disappear from reality. Miles saw you running and running and he could see the destination, Miguel and that child, so close yet too far away.

And then there was nothing.

“Oh,” Miles felt sadness creep within him. Gwen wanted to comfort both you and Miles but couldn’t muster it in front of Miguel.

Peter wasn't sure what to do.

One strand of three disappeared.

“And in the other, she’s not here anymore.”

"What dimension is that?"

Miguel sighed. Hands on his hips, he met Miles' intense stare instead of yours.

"This one."

“So there is only me now,” you have a half-hearted smile.

“I thought you said you were the only Spider-Man in this dimension?” Miles asked Miguel as he tried to make sense of this world he found himself in.

“I am,” Miguel clarified. “She’s not from this dimension. Her… alternate self isn’t here anymore.”

He recalled the images of all the Peter’s and Gwen’s and Jessica’s mourning their canon disasters. Loved ones, friends, lovers.

The second strand of three disappeared.

“Does that mean if you…?”

You nodded your head at Miles. Peter put his hand on your shoulder at the admission.

Miguel focused on that hand. He saw the comfort, he saw the friendly love and knew he had wasted time. He had wasted months being angry at you when you weren’t the cause of it.

He had watched over your dimension to keep you safe while you struggled and in his own pain, he made the unity between you strained and unrealistic.

But he also knew the greater purpose.

“I guess I just have to pick the right side.”

You tried to bring levity.

You didn’t realize that you’d be picking Miles and your friends or Miguel and the person you knew because if you didn't you'd lose everything.

And you needed to save yourself in one dimension you still existed in.

Earth 42.

A/N: this isn’t proofed yet. I can totally see a million different sequels to dive deeper into the relationship between reader and Miguel.

As always, comments and reblogs are the best feedback a writer can ask for. I love reading any comments you all leave 🥺. Thank you so much for reading.

Tags:

@csmt-m @er4tous @gracielou0518

[daisynik7]

hey! :) if you dont mind doing my request here it is! angst/smutty/fluff where reader fucked up they argue and it was really bad but goes to jean appartment to apologize and they have makeup sex :3 thx u

Pairing: Jean x f!reader 

cw: established relationship, language, angst, fluff, smut – daddy kink, PIV sex (doggy style), sex without a condom, cream pie

Author’s Note: WEEEEE my very first Jean fic EVER. Thank you for the request, anon! I had fun writing this one. I hope you like it! 😘

“Jean, what’s wrong? You’ve been quiet the whole car ride.” 

He stands beside you in silence, arms crossed, watching you unlock the door to your apartment, brows knit in a tight scowl. You open the door, entering first, hearing him slam it shut, startling you. “What the hell? Seriously, what’s wrong?” You hang your jacket on the coat rack, slipping your shoes off simultaneously. 

He looks towards the kitchen, avoiding your gaze. “Nothing.”

You roll your eyes, knowing damn well it’s something. “Please, baby. Just tell me.” Stepping towards him, you wrap your arms around his neck, pouting. 

He sighs. “You were flirting with Eren all night.”

The accusation makes you laugh at first. But when he continues to glare, you stop. He’s actually serious. “I was not flirting with Eren.”

“You were. You wouldn’t stop talking to him.”

“We were sitting right next to each other; I didn’t want to be rude,” you defend.

“And he kept touching you, and you just let him. It’s like I wasn’t even there.”

You try to recall how the night transpired. The two of you attended Mikasa’s birthday dinner at a swanky restaurant. The entire gang was there, including Eren, who Jean is always weird about for whatever reason, despite being good friends with him. They’ve known each other since they were kids, always pitted against one another, a constant competition in all aspects of life. Who’s stronger, who’s smarter, who gets the most action. Even as adults, they never grew out of it. Jean always felt bested by Eren, which didn’t help with his insecurities. But the one thing Jean has that Eren doesn’t is you. And maybe that’s the deeper meaning behind why he’s so upset tonight. 

It might be the wine from earlier muddling your memory, but you don’t remember Eren touching you. Well, except for his hand on your shoulders, laughing at whatever funny story you were telling him. Or when he brushed his fingers along your neckline to inspect the dainty gold chain Jean gave you as an anniversary gift two years ago. And there was his palm resting on your bare knee underneath the table, slowly creeping up your thigh before your boyfriend had to pull you out of your seat to use the bathroom. In the moment, you weren’t aware that whatever was happening between you and Eren was flirting. Honestly, you’re still unsure, but now that you think about it, you can see why Jean is upset. But being immature and petty, you won’t admit to it. You don’t take his claims seriously, deciding to tease him just a little bit to push his buttons. 

You grin, squeezing his cheeks between your hands. “Well, I can’t help it. He’s hot. I wish you weren’t there.”

Immediately, you regret it. It’s a mean joke that preys on his insecurities, and you only realize that now as you see the look on his face. His jaw hangs open, eyes betrayed, staring at you dumbfounded. “Are you serious right now? Why would you say that?” He escapes from your grasp, stomping into the kitchen for a glass of water.

You swallow hard, knowing you fucked up. “Jean, you know I’m kidding. It’s a joke.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he replies sarcastically, chugging his drink. 

“Baby, I wasn’t flirting with Eren. Maybe he was flirting with me, but I was definitely not doing it back.”

“Oh, please. You were giggling at all his jokes, batting your fucking eyelashes at him. You were definitely flirting, don’t give me that bullshit.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“I think I’m reacting the perfect amount, actually. I mean, how would you feel if I started rubbing my hands all over Christa? Or Mikasa?”

Annoyed, you scoff, muttering, “Like you haven’t already tried.”

His expression worsens into a grimace. “What?”

“Nothing,” you respond, almost certain he understood you.

He stays silent for a moment, letting the situation sink in. Eventually, he murmurs, “Fine. If that’s the way you want it to be, I’m leaving.” He makes his way towards the door, face red with anger.

“Jean.” 

“Go ahead and call Eren. Since you didn’t want me there in the first place, you’re free to do whatever you want now. Go fuck him, for all I care.”

“Jean!” You yell out, tears welling in your eyes.

He doesn’t look at you as he exits the apartment, slamming the door shut without another word. 

~~~

Jean sits in his own apartment, sulking on the couch in front of the blank TV. He’s got the remote in his hands but hasn’t bothered pressing any buttons because his mind is reeling over the fight the two of you just had. This might the worse one yet. And he’s not sure how it can be salvaged after what was said. 

He’s mad at you for making his insecurities a joke. He’s mad at himself for yelling at you instead of explaining that is actually hurts him deep down. Both of you could have handled the situation better. But, of course, emotions get in the way of logic, causing a bigger mess than necessary. 

It’s been almost an hour since he stormed off. He checks his phone for any notifications. Nothing. The urge to call you is strong, but he resists. Maybe he needs a bit more time to collect himself.

The buzzer rings. Heart thumping, he presses the intercom. “Hello?”

“Jean. It’s me.” There are bits of static on the other end, but it’s undoubtedly you. “Can we talk?”

He sighs, relieved and excited to hear you. Without saying anything, he buzzes you in. Within minutes, you’re knocking on his door. When he opens it, he finds you cuddling the Pompompurin plushie he bought for you at the Sanrio store ages ago. Your eyes are swollen from crying, clad in your favorite sweats. Unable to contain himself, he wraps you in his arms, resting his chin on your head. 

“I’m sorry!” you cry out, sobbing into his shirt. 

“I’m sorry too,” he says, squeezing you tighter, the plushie suffocating between your bodies. He waddles the two of you into his apartment, kicking the door closed. 

“I shouldn’t joke about it. I know how you feel about Eren. It was mean and I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I was jealous and insecure, and I was taking it out on you. I know you weren’t flirting with him. I know you’d never do that to me.”

“And I was riling you up on purpose. I shouldn’t have done that. I was being cruel and petty for no reason.”

You finally let go of Pompompurin, tossing it to the floor to embrace your boyfriend fully. The two of you stay in each other’s arms for a while longer. Finally, you peer up at him, sniffling. “I got your shirt all wet.”

“I’m going to take it off soon anyways,” he says playfully, bowing his head to kiss you on the lips. 

You giggle into his mouth, kissing him back, tugging lightly at the hem of his t-shirt. He grabs your hand to lead you into the bedroom, stripping off his clothes in record time, boner sprung stiff against his abdomen. You follow, removing all your clothes until you’re naked, laying on his bed, thighs spread wide. He immediately positions himself between your legs, lapping at your clit. 

This is how most of your little fights conclude: in the bedroom, having the nastiest makeup sex. Jean continues to slobber all over your pussy, sucking and flicking his tongue on your bud until you’re whimpering for him. He slides his middle finger inside you, curling at the tips. He adds his ring finger in, pumping his digits in and out of your wet slit, mouth still latched on your clit. You come like this, a high-pitched whine escaping your throat as his fucks his fingers inside you, the wet squelches lewd and arousing to your ears. He dribbles his spit on your swollen pussy lips, smearing it around you, getting you extra wet for his cock. 

Sliding down the edge of the bed, you turn over to wiggle your ass for him. He smacks it, watching the flesh jiggle upon contact. “This is all mine, right princess?”

Craning your neck to face him, you grin, shaking your ass some more. “All yours, daddy.”

He bites his lip, grabbing your cheeks with both his hands, spreading them. “Daddy’s gonna give it to you so good right now. My little slut is gonna get pounded by this fat cock.”

Your knees tremble with anticipation, eager for him. “Give it to me. You always give it to me so fucking good.”

He slides his cock in smoothly. “I do, huh? I know how to make my baby girl cream all over this cock.” His thrusts are rough and fast, exactly how you like it. “Fuck, baby. You feel so fucking good around my cock.”

“Yeah? You like this tight pussy?” You throw your ass back, his dick stuffed in your pussy, hitting that sweet spot. 

“I love this tight pussy. Fuck,” he curses, gripping your hips tightly as he pounds away at you. 

He’s buried so far into your womb, you almost feel it in your belly. “Fuck! Right there!” you whine, hand pressed to your abdomen. 

“I give it to you good, huh?” He tightens his grasp on you, railing you harder. The bed squeaks below you noisily. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

You gulp down whatever saliva is gathering in your mouth, wiping away the drool leaking down the corner of your lips. “You’re the best, daddy. The best I’ve ever had.”

“That’s fucking right. You’re so good for me. Such a slut for daddy, fuck.” 

He finishes inside you, filling you up with his load. After he pulls out, he watches the cum ooze out of your slit, fingering some of it back in. You turn to lay on your back, face up, smiling at him. He spoons you from behind, sliding his arm around you waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I love you. I’m sorry about tonight.”

“We’re a little past apologies now, aren’t we?” you joke, interlacing your fingers with his. 

He buries his nose into your neck, inhaling your familiar, sweet scent. “I know. Still, I hate it when we fight.”

“Me too,” you respond, snuggling closer to him. “I love you.”

It’s silent for a moment, before he asks, “So, do you really think he’s hot?”

This time, you pretend to fall asleep, a clever smile on your face. 

[screemnch]

The Pathologic Russian and English analysis: Clara Saburova the Changeling Part 2

I am finally free to have a single month of summer vacation, so I'm taking this opportunity to finish up the last of the healer to healer communication analysis. Are you excited? I sure am.

As the Haruspex: I uhhh… Don’t have much to say specifically about the differences between Clara in Russian and English that I haven’t already said. Like yeah, she acts differently with Artemy than she does with Daniil, but that is present in both of the versions - she is much more vulnerable and emotive with Burakh, while she is a lot more deceitful with Dankovsky (which is sorta muddled by the fact that he’s the only one of the two to meet her "twin"). She refers to Artemy using exclusively the informal “you” and has a very stubborn and argumentative way of speaking for most of it. The instances of the “biblical” way of speaking that I pointed out in the Bachelor route are less frequent here, and Clara comes across as, well, just a girl. I uh… Also think that the dialogue website I’m using might be missing the bit of dialogue on day 11 when Clara actually offers to help Artemy? It has the dialogue for when he’s already in the Kaiur, but not beforehand (and the wiki tells me that they do talk in person before that. Correct me if I’m wrong). Sooooo yeah, that’s about it. This analysis is a bit more… Explaining the references and intertextualities within the dialogue rather than discussing what translational differences imply, but I think it’d be a cool insight nonetheless. So let’s get started!

This is… Completely unrelated to any translation stuff, but I did want to provide a little bit of intertextual context for “Suok” to allow all the fans that don’t speak Russian to speculate about this on their own. I tried to look up and see if there were any other potential sources for this name, but haven’t been able to find any alternative ones. So here goes. Suok is a last name, which served as inspiration for a character name from the Russian story book “the Three Fat Men” by Yuri Olesha. Very briefly the story is about a town being held under the oppressive rule of the titular three fat men, who had each taken control of one of the town’s resources (that sure reminds me of someone). Suok in this story is a young circus performer, who pretends to be the previously broken doll of Tutti - the Fat Men’s heir. She does so to free one of the leaders of the revolution that has been captured and sentenced to execution. It is revealed in the story that Suok was actually the twin sister of Tutti, which is why the doll looked so like her - it was made to replace her. It’s not the most well known of Russian stories, but it’s recognizable enough for an expat like me to remember. Thematically I do think it’s funny that there’s a reference to a story where three powerful people attempt to squash a revolution (which is by the way led by two men), and a little girl with a twin ends up saving one of those revolutionaries from certain death. And the doll theming. However, if I’m just ignorant and there’s actually like… A Buryat or Mongolian name or entity that’s also called Suok and it’s actually a reference to that… I shall wear a dunce cap, or something, Idk.

I really wish that I could convey how… Story-like Clara’s way of speaking becomes here? Like, yeah, she does talk somewhat… “biblically” but this is not that. She’s not just reciting the events, the way the story is phrased and the language flows feels like she’s restating it word for word. Especially in the part where Clara talks about how Suok was unkillable by anything - it’s all one continuous sentence. It reminds me of, and this is truly truly obscure Russian stuff, that one cartoon about Kutkh the Raven and the four silly mice that kept annoying the life out of him (it’s on Youtube I believe, so go educate yourself on some fairytales from Kamchatka). Those stories have a way of being both lyrical and conversational at the same time - it uses improper grammar (like starting your sentence with “and”) and feels very casual in its sentence structure, but the words it chooses and the matter it discusses is grandiose and epic (in the literary sense). Also a fun little detail is that rather than saying that the abyss couldn’t claim Suok, Clara says that she “did not wish to return to the abyss.”

Adding to my collection of “Clara and Artemy are a comedic duo, actually” is this moment in which (while the English version makes it sounds a little ironic and cautious) Artemy just casually goes “wow, that’s just like us…” as Clara is telling him the Kin’s creation myth. Though you can’t tell me that he wouldn’t be the kind of person that looks at a Bosch painting and goes “that’s so me.”

More from the “fun Russian idioms” world…While we do have a translation of “a little bird told me” in Russian - it is exactly that - a translation. From English actually. The idiom used here is, as far as I know, an originally Russian one. Namely “a dog barks, the wind carries it” which is essentially just “yeah it’s gossip I heard on the street.” Nothing particularly significant about this difference, just thought y’all would appreciate it.

At this point I’m becoming painfully aware of the fact that calling these an analysis of a specific character is silly, because there’s always two people involved in the conversation, but the format has been set already sooo… I could wax poetic about how much more laconic Russian is in terms of threats (partially due to the fact that we don’t use articles and stuff) but also I can’t help but feel like this was much easily translatable? Like, the line is, essentially “let’s hope you don’t regret this!” which is very much a threat already. But I guess the translating team decided to take the road less travelled.

I think I may have peaked. It doesn’t get better from here, this is the ultimate achievement of this analysis. In the last instalment of the madness project I spent a whole paragraph trying to explain why the Bachelor calling Clara “trash” was actually a scathing, humiliating insult that was translated as “little tramp” for no apparent reason, which made it seem (at least to me) a lot less cutting. I’d ask you to look at that screenshot in the previous analysis to see if you spot anything familiar, but I don’t even have an exclusive tag for this madness project (I totally should tho) and I won’t subject you to the other stuff I’ve written in my ramblings. I’ll just cut the suspense here: In this dialogue Artemy uses the exact same word that was translated as “tramp” for Daniil. The word “дрянь” (dryan’), meaning trash or something too worn out and torn to be useful. I understand this must’ve been done because the Bachelor and the Haruspex are supposed to have very different vibes about them and because, as previously stated, the Bachelor doesn’t get to be nearly as aggressive as he is in Russian but like… Wow. I think I need this in a meme format or something, because it’s just so funny to me. To clarify, too: “дрянь” isn’t an explicit swear word. It’s an insult, but it doesn’t need to be censored or anything. Neither “tramp” nor “bitch” fits the translation more or less. And I think that’s hilarious that they translated it so differently for the two characters.

And we’re back in the realm of “interesting” instead of “baffling” and “confusing”. Instead of “dying” or “letting people die” the two of them specifically talk about “killing”. Artemy asks if Clara wants to kill Taya, making the situation a lot more malicious from Clara’s perspective (this is the whole quest with figuring out how the story that Clara started telling Taya ends). Pretty short for a note, but it’s also just interesting in terms of like… How malice is attributed to Clara in the Russian version, but seems impersonal in the English version.

Just as fascinating (and probably just as short of a note) is this line, where in Russian Artemy calls Clara “daughter” with a diminutive. A lot of Russian words have diminutives, but it doesn’t necessarily make them appear kinder. Actually with words like “daughter”, the non-diminutive version – “дочь” (doch’) – is used a lot less and usually feels colder and more distant. The version with the diminutive – “дочка” (doch’ka) is the one used in everyday conversations. If you want to add endearment to the word, you’d have to put in another diminutive, making the word “доченька” (dochen’ka). That being said, I guess calling someone who isn’t related to you “son” or “daughter” isn’t too uncommon (though I usually picture it being said by like… grandmas on a bench, or helpful fairytale entities), though your everyday person is much more likely to just say “girl”, “boy”, or “kid”.

Not a translation difference, but I’ve already included a bunch of intertextual references in this particular analysis, so why not one more, huh? The story that Clara tells about the crystal flower, while obviously being an allusion to the town and the polyhedron, specifically referring to the utopian ending (cutting down the living flowers instead of the crystal flower -> razing the town and leaving the tower to stand) also reminds me of a specific story within the “Malachite Box” collection of the fairytales by Pavel Bazhov (check them out if you can, it’s a bunch of folk tales from the Ural mountains and they’re fascinating and incredibly dark). Specifically “the Stone Flower” - a story following Danila - an orphan boy that becomes a master-stone carver, but struggles to finish an order that doesn’t fit his own particular standards. He is told of the Stone Flower in the lair of the Mistress of the Copper Mountain (a force of nature entity that’s recurring in the “malachite box”) and how seeing it will allow someone to understand the stone and how to carve it. However he is warned that all who’ve seen it have always remained in the mountain, working for the Mistress of the Copper Mountain. Danila does, indeed, manage to see the stone flower and return to his bride, but what only manages to stay for so long before he destroys almost every single one of his creations and disappears without a trace. It’s left up for debate whether he simply went mad and perished in the woods, or if he returned to the Copper Mountain. I do think there are some parallels to be drawn between this story and Pathologic’s polyhedron – specifically in how it relates to Peter Stamatin. Not a one to one comparison, of course, but there’s something to be said there about the madness that comes with creating or trying to create something bigger than yourself, to the point where it’s less of the human world and more of the world of miracles and myth.

Not a particularly drastic difference here, but just wanted to point out that the whole “your lies are so crafty…” bit of this dialogue isn’t… actually present in the Russian version? I think the translating team kinda got used to the fact that this dialogue is almost the same as when Daniil talks to Clara, so they’ve added in this line even though Artemy just says “I’m fed up with you”.

To sum it up: yeah, I don’t have much. Clara is a fascinating character to me, but I do think that she is fascinating in both English and Russian. She’s a multitude of contradictory things, and she is condemned by those around her for either not fitting into the category they believe her to belong to, or being exactly what they believe her to be. She doesn’t get a break. Most of the differences between English and Russian have been just slightly “vibe altering” ones, and it’s a bit difficult to place a finger on the reasons why those changes I made. Like, with Daniil I could generalise that in an attempt to make him seem cold and detached, he accidentally lost a lot of his emotiveness. I have made the argument that Clara’s Russian dialogue makes her come across as more meta-aware (and there’s something to be said about how I argued that Clara and Aglaya are very idealistically opposed about the exact same belief and how that notion is echoed in Clara’s dialogue with Artemy) but at the end of the day… Yeah, the translators did a pretty good job with this one. I’ve said before that it’s not really a good idea to have every piece of dialogue include a footnote explaining what every word means (at least in a game like Pathologic. A game focused on education would be soooo fun with those. Like Martial Law, for example) but to add to that: I think it’s pretty cool that Ice Pick Lodge managed to create a game that is so distinctly Russian, that even a city boy like me can understand, despite taking place in the steppe. And at the same time, you don’t have to be Russian to understand it. I’ve provided a bit of intertextual context here, but you don’t actually need it to feel and understand what makes it so compelling, as seen by the fact that this game is beloved both in and outside of Russia. And I love that for all of us.

And that is it, folks, at least for the three healers and how they interact with each other. Up next (and hopefully not several months later) I'm gonna examine the shared dialogue that the healers have with the townsfolk. I guess that one will be both comparing the similarities and differences between the languages and between the three of them. Yippeee.

[battlemaiden13]

Hello! I really want to write a fanfic and I’ve been trying to get advice and i mean writing tips and other words for ‘said’ and using their pronouns I’ve read your response for that other anon that asked you about writing advice but for me english is not my first language and i can’t describe stuff very well and my vocabulary is very limited i would try to write a sentence but then I'll get a brain rot and stare at the word ‘the’ on my laptop for ages And how do i start a chapter? -anon🪐

There is nothing wrong with Said everyone is lying to you. You can use said all the time, just throw in some other describing words when necessary. like when you can hear the words in your head and want to express that someone is excited, angry or distraught or any other strong emotion.

Also if the conversation is between two people you only need to use said the first two times to make sure audience knows whose talking. Example:

"I don't like juice" Asha said

"It's just juice" Damian said

"I just don't like it"

"That's not a reason"

"I don't need a reason to not like something"

"Most people have reasons for not liking things"

"I don't like you either, don't have a reason for that" Asha shrugged

You can also just google, other words for 'said'. I like to use replied if a character is replying to someone or hummed. I also usually use said then follow it up with an action or a feeling behind it. So If I were to rewrite the above conversation it'd be like this:

"I don't like juice" Asha said, turning his nose up at the glass.

"It's just juice" Damian replied

"I just don't like it"

"That's not a reason" Damian pointed out.

"I don't need a reason to not like something" Asha said, throwing his hands in the air in a huff.

"Most people have reasons for not liking things" Damian said with a roll of his eyes.

"I don't like you either, don't have a reason for that" Asha shrugged

There is nothing wrong with SAID and there is nothing wrong with simple descriptions. Said just gets muddled when you use it to close to one another.

I hope this helps? sort of? sorry if it doesn't.

[pascaloverx]

Invisible Bonds: The Power of Destiny

Author's Note: This fanfic contains possible strong language and explores themes of unconventional love. The relationship between the protagonists will be handled with sensitivity, without explicit scenes. If there are explicit scenes, readers will be warned. This fanfic focuses on the reader's relationship with Jungkook and Taehyung, separately.

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Chapter Thirteen

You feel like your eyes weigh a ton; it's hard to open them. However, the curiosity to know where those noises you're hearing come from is too great. They sound like people whispering, but you don't recognize any voices.But eventually, you finally open your eyes, coming face to face with a man. A handsome man, with a bewildered look and disheveled, bleached hair. He looks familiar, as if you've seen him before.

"Damn, you finally woke up. I can't... believe it. You have no idea how much you scared us." The man who was sitting in a clearly uncomfortable chair gets up and comes toward you. He must care a lot about you. That's all your mind says, even though everything seems like a blur now. He hugs you tightly, as if he doesn't want to let you go.

"Do you usually hug strangers in hospital rooms as if they were stuffed animals, or is that just exclusively my privilege?" You ask, pulling away from the stranger. He seems confused by your words, a confused sadness in his expression.

"But you're not a stranger. You're the woman of my..." He's interrupted by the entrance of a woman, a mature woman; around fifty years old, who has just entered your hospital room. She drops two bags of food on the floor as she rushes to your hospital bed in tears. Is she very close to you?

"My daughter, I can't believe you finally woke up. I mean, I dreamed of this day for six months, and finally, you're back." She's hugging me now, a hug as tight as the man's. He seems in shock since I said I was a stranger to him, while the woman who called me her daughter is so emotional that she hasn't noticed anything happening.

"I'll call the doctor. She doesn't... doesn't..." The man still seems unable to process it; now he just can't finish the sentence, still apparently confused. You breathe in frustration because you don't know what to say or do. Should you pretend to know who the handsome guy is because he seems like a nice guy? Should you return the hug from my potential mother? Or should you pretend to have fallen back asleep and go back to imagining faces for the voices you were hearing?

"How are you? In pain? Cold? You must be thirsty, right?" She asks so quickly that you can only nod affirmatively. Your head is muddled, but seeing her gaze at you while she covers you with a blanket is reassuring.

"So, the young lady finally decided to wake up from her beauty sleep. Know that your boyfriend and your mother have been with you since day one. In fact, there hasn't been a day you haven't been accompanied with a lot of love. But now, let's check your vital signs, and I want you to follow my finger and then look at this shiny device in my hand." The doctor enters the room along with the man who was here before. So, he's your boyfriend?

He checks you thoroughly, assesses if you're feeling your body normally, your blood pressure, your temperature. It takes a while until he informs you that you'll need to undergo more detailed tests, but as far as he can assess, you're fine. You sighed, almost relieved to hear the doctor say that, but something is wrong. You question the doctor about your memory loss. He says a neurological test will be done to assess your momentary amnesia but that it's probably a consequence of the trauma you suffered in the head at the time of the accident. You don't know how to react, whether to cry or just move on. You then ask the doctor to clarify the situation with your mother, who is outside talking to the man who could be your boyfriend. He informs that he will provide instructions on how to stimulate your memories and mentions how your recovery was almost a miracle. As soon as he leaves your hospital room, you watch him talking to your mother and boyfriend. They stand there for a few seconds, just listening to the doctor while looking apprehensive. Eventually, for some reason, the man who could be your boyfriend enters your room and sits beside your hospital bed. He remains silent for what feels like an eternal four minutes.

"So, are you really my boyfriend, or is the doctor mistaken?" You break the awkward silence with that question.

"I'm to blame. I think you should know that I'm to blame for this. For the accident. For you not remembering your life. For hurting you. Not that guilt made me stay by your side all this time. But I thought I should be the one to take the blame before Jung…" He speaks almost as quickly as you lose track of his train of thought. But another guy enters the room. A stormy entrance, he comes in and hugs you. A hug as strong as the others you received today. The guy hugging you has shorter, black hair. His scent is incredibly soothing, making you feel an odd urge to return the hug.

"I can't believe you finally woke up. I missed you so much. How could you be so reckless?" The man hugging you speaks while looking into your eyes, keeping the proximity of his body to yours.

"Let me guess, you're my second boyfriend and that's why my first boyfriend frowned when you came in?" Your tone of voice is unserious , as if you were telling a joke but both men in front of you seem to be in no mood for jokes.

"Did you tell her what you did?" The dark-haired man speaks while the bleached-haired man smiles slightly irritated.

"I knew you would say that, I was telling her about what happened." The bleached-haired one speaks quickly, interrupting your attempt to think about what to say before the two of them entered into an endless argument. You can feel that there is something very bad between the two men. You wonder if you're to blame for the tension in the air. Could these two attractive men have been in love with you?

"If you don't mind, I'd like to say that this conversation is making me uncomfortable. Honestly, I have no idea who you are, but you certainly seem to know who I am. I'd like to know if either of you wants to tell me who is who and what you have to do with me?" You say, cutting through the tension. The dark-haired one looks perplexed, while the bleached-haired one realizes that you are truly lost.

"I'm Taehyung, and he's Jungkook. And the whole confusion, Y/N, is because, somehow, you're in the middle of a complicated love triangle." Finally, you can put names to the faces in front of you and find out your name, which is a step forward, but it doesn't trigger any memories. As you suspected, you are in a love triangle, which would be exciting if you knew what you feel for Jungkook and Taehyung, but you don't.

"Correcting our dear Taehyung, you're stuck in a love square. The handsome guy there, before realizing he wanted you, was engaged. In fact, you got run over because you caught him reconciling with his fiancée." Jungkook speaks in a mocking tone, as if he wanted to attack Taehyung with his words but was pretending to be calm. You look at Taehyung, trying to figure out if Jungkook is telling the truth.

"If we're going to be brutally honest, you're in a damn love pentagon because our stud Jungkook, ever since he broke the soulmate connection with you, has been busy falling in love with every person who crosses his path. Not to mention that you guys are neighbors, so you can hear and see every new romantic conquest he has." Taehyung and Jungkook are staring at each other as if they might kill each other while you try to piece together the puzzle that seems to be your life. Then you feel a slight pain in your chest, as if you could feel your heart breaking. But after all, for whom is it breaking?

"Look, it's almost beautiful to see you summarizing what seems to be a disastrous love life, but I need some time alone. And you guys, could you not come back here for a while?" You say softly, feeling that it's the right thing to say. Both guys don't seem happy, as if they are genuinely sad.

"We can come back separately if that's the problem. We won't argue anymore." Taehyung says as Jungkook nods in agreement.

"I'll be more direct. I don't want you guys here. I want to recover without feeling like I have something to resolve. And both of you are literally walking problems that I will feel the need to solve. Enough. Whatever we had to sort out before, I don't want to remember it now. If Taehyung has a fiancée, let him get married and be happy. If Jungkook is enjoying his singledom, let him be the best single guy in the world without thinking about me. My priority is me, not you. Now, go away." You speak directly, without mincing words. For some reason, you feel proud of it.

"I'm not leaving because I want to, or because I want to enjoy the single life. But know that I'll be waiting for you." Jungkook says, getting up, kissing your cheek, and leaving while Taehyung seems to be processing what you said.

"You're not leaving…" You're not sure if you're questioning Taehyung or stating something, but he adjusts as if he's about to leave. Before he turns away, he quickly walks toward you, embracing you.

"You're the only person I can imagine marrying. No matter how many times you kick me out of your life, I'll be happy to have been rejected by you a thousand times." He says while hugging you tightly. However, you reciprocate the hug and feel a tear rolling down your eyes. Taehyung then leaves the hospital room, leaving you confused.

[firstprince-ao3feed]

How to get over Henry Fox: A list

by dazedandconfused Alex breaks up with the love of his life after five years together, hoping that Henry will find someone who wants the future Alex can't give him. They muddle through the year apart. Alone and together, doing things right and wrong, finding and losing people, and all the while never forgetting that before anything else, they were best friends. And maybe, in the end, their dreams aren't so different after all. Words: 36842, Chapters: 7/12, Language: English Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M, M/M Characters: Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Alex Claremont-Diaz, Nora Holleran, Liam (Red White & Royal Blue), June Claremont-Diaz, Percy "Pez" Okonjo, Beatrice Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Rafael Luna, David the Beagle (Red White & Royal Blue), Hunter (Red White & Royal Blue) Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Alex Claremont-Diaz & Nora Holleran, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Liam, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor/Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, London, 2002, Editor Henry, Lawyer Alex, Break Up, Post-Break Up, Medical Conditions, Mental Health Issues, Friendship via https://ift.tt/fjkwOTe

[drabbles-mc]

Long Fuckin' Year

Carmy Berzatto & Richie Jerimovich

Warnings: 18+, language, angst, talks of grief/mourning

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: It's the worst week of the year for me and I'm just trying to muddle through it the best I can. Sibling grief really is something.

The Bear Taglist: @garbinge @ashlingnarcos @narcolini @hausofmamadas @withmyteeth @darqchilddaydreamz @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

He’d been on more of a warpath than usual as the days went on. Everyone understood it, of course. That was always the thing—they all got it. It didn’t mean that they loved being on the receiving end of his tirades and angry hand gestures, but at least they knew where it was coming from. There was something to be said for that.

The restaurant wasn’t even close to open and he was already yelling like they were knee-deep in a Friday night dinner service. Everyone was in their own lane, doing their own prep. He was there because he had to be, because it was his restaurant. And it was really his restaurant now. Gone were the days when he could say that it was Mikey’s place that just got dumped on his lap.

That fact was fucking with his head too, on top of everything else.

“God fucking dammit!” he snapped as he went to pull open the desk drawer in the office and it jammed.

“What?” Richie poked his head around the corner, expecting Carmy’s yell to be followed by a crash, or more of an explanation that never came.

“The, the fuckin’ drawers on this shit,” he slammed his hand against the drawer that wouldn’t open, “never fuckin’—”

Without a word Richie reached and gently pulled the top middle drawer of the desk out just slightly. There was the quietest click as he did so, and then he calmly reached and pulled open the drawer that Carmy hadn’t been able to get.

“Shit locks ‘em all,” Richie explained, making sure to keep his tone even.

Carmy wished that Richie had come back with something shitty and sarcastic. It would’ve been easier to make a fight out of it that way, and he could really use a fight with Richie right about now. It’d been a long time since their last knock-down-drag-out and it was fucked up to say that they were overdue for it, but Carmy felt like his brain was starting to smolder at the edges, red starting to creep into the corners of his vision.

“Yea, I fuckin’,” he shook his head and ran his hands back through the mess of his hair, “I fuckin’ see that, Richie, thank you.”

Richie took a deep breath. He wanted to snap right back—Carmy had a habit of making it so easy for him to do that. But he was tying to be better. Even in moments like this when all he wanted to do was drag Carmy outside by his greasy little curls, he was trying to be better. So he kept his mouth shut instead.

Since he wasn’t getting what he was looking for from Richie, Carmy started flipping through the folders of paperwork that he had originally gone into the office to look through in the first place. Truth be told, he’d completely forgotten what he had been looking for. It seemed so fucking important at the time but now he couldn’t remember it for the life of him. The inside of his brain was so goddamn loud and Richie was standing there looming over his shoulder and Mikey was dead and the world was still turning and the restaurant was still going to open for dinner service and now he couldn’t remember what fucking paperwork he needed.

He didn’t have it in him to say any of that though. He didn’t have the wherewithal to say what was wrong, or that he had completely drowned out his purpose in that moment and now he had no recollection of why he was there.

Instead, he slammed the drawer shut. “Fuck!” He shook his head. “Nothing. N-nothing is where it’s supposed to be. Why is all this shit turned around like this?” he asked as he paced the small area of the office.

Richie was the only one there but he was also very aware of the fact that Carmy wasn’t talking to him. And since Carmy wasn’t talking to him, what Richie said next had nothing to do with what Carmy had been ranting about.

“Yo, cousin,” Richie chose each word purposefully as he crossed his arms over his chest, “we got it here.”

Carmy’s brows instantly came together, confusion washing over his face. It was a change from the anger for the moment, at least. “What?”

Richie cleared his throat, a split second of hesitation like he knew that what he was about to say was going to go over like a lead fucking brick but he knew he had to say it anyway. “Syd, me, fuckin’, fuckin’ Tina. We got it here if you wanna…” he trailed off for a moment before gtting his resolve back and looking Carmy in the eyes to say, “Maybe you should head home, Bear.”

Anger instantly reappeared on Carmy’s face, entwining with the confusion even though he knew full-well exactly what Richie was talking about. “Fuck you, I should head home.”

“Carmy—”

“No!” he cut Richie short. “No. Don’t, don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. Don’t tell me to go home, don’t tell me—just, just don’t.” He would’ve known even without looking at Richie what the expression on his face was, but he still looked anyway. Always the glutton for punishment. His voice was quieter, anger momentarily giving way to the sadness that was lurking beneath it. “I gotta be here. I, I, I just, I gotta be here.”

“You fuckin’ don’t, though.” In the years prior, the sentence would’ve come out mean, condescending even. But this time it came out like a reassurance, almost like a plea. Clearing his throat, Richie threw himself on the grenade and said, “It’s been a long fuckin’ year.”

Tears instantly welled in Carmy’s eyes. “Long fuckin’ year.”

“So go home,” Richie reiterated.

“To what?” Carmy snapped, exasperated. “To, to just be alone in my fuckin’ living room? No. No fuck that. It’s not, you know, it’s not like he’s gonna be there. He’s not,” he threw his arms up, gesturing to the office and surrendering to the reality of it all in one motion, “not fuckin’ here either.” He sniffed, shaking his head as he rested his hands on his hips, gaze dropping to the floor. “God dammit. Fuckin’ asshole, you know?”

Richie let out a quiet, sad laugh. “Yeah, I know.”

Carmy forced himself to look at Richie. “Why…how are you so…?” He made a vague gesture to Richie as a whole.

Richie chuckled quietly and shook his head. “I don’t know, cousin. In a couple hours maybe I’ll be a goddamn mess like you are.”

It got a real laugh out of Carmy, a short-lived one but it was something. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, well,” Richie allowed himself a small smile, “fuck you too.”

Carmy pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes for a moment, wiping away the tears that were there and trying to force any new ones to go back into their hiding places. “I can’t go home, cousin.” He paused, hands dropping to his sides. “Don’t make me go home.”

“I’m not gonna make you do shit,” Richie said with a shrug. “But if it’s fuckin’ you up being here then—”

“Being anywhere is fuckin’ me up,” Carmy said, voice quieter than it had been but still laden with frustration. “Not, it’s not about where. It’s just that he’s…not.”

Richie nodded. “I know.”

“How do I fix that?” Carmy asked, earnest as he’d ever been.

“Got no fuckin’ idea.” Richie clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” He watched Carmy for another minute more before asking, “You gonna…?”

Carmy shook his head. “I’m good. I’m gonna stay. Thanks. And, and I’m sorry.”

Richie nodded as he took a step back towards the office door. “Make sure you apologize to that fuckin’ desk, too.”

Carmy chuckled. “Right.” He watched as Richie backed all the way out of the office, leaving him alone for a moment to get himself together. He dragged his hands over his face, looking around the office like it was going to give him answers to questions that he hadn’t even put out into the universe yet. He looked over at the one pocket of wallspace that was still dedicated to Fenway, held together by Richie’s scotch tape surgery job and all. He sighed, muttering one more, “Right,” to himself before heading back out into the restaurant.

[watchingroger]

Douglas glanced up from his paperback. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?”

“You look puzzled.”

“Oh.” Martin closed his mouth. “I’m trying to understand the announcements.”

Douglas frowned and listened for a moment. “The ten-thirteen to Salzburg has changed to platform six.”

“Changed to six? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. There’s a lot of noise,” Douglas added, “I might be wrong.”

“Of course you’re not wrong,” Martin sighed. “But it’s kind of you to say.”

Douglas turned his gaze back to his book. “Trying out your language skills, dear?” He asked mildly.

“We can’t all be naturally brilliant. Some of us have to practice,” Martin sniffed. “For all the good it does,” he added.

“Isn’t it Swiss German you’re supposed to be learning? You’re bound to get muddled when it comes to the traditional sort.”

“I can’t even tell the difference between them.”

“Being in Munich should give you a clue.”

“Why do the Swiss insist on having so many languages?”

“To make life difficult for you specifically.”

“Thanks darling.”

“Just be grateful you were born an English speaker.”

“Is anyone born a speaker of any language?”

Douglas detected a hint of smugness in Martin’s voice and glanced up. His partner made no attempt to hide his smirk. “Fair enough,” Douglas said, choosing to let him have his victory. “I’m not going to thank god I was born an Englishman am I? Not exactly PC these days. Besides, I’m Scottish.”

“Psh,” Martin spat. He had brightened up considerably. “You’re as Scottish as I am.”

“Which must be reasonably Scottish, with a name like Crieff.”

“My great-grandfather.”

“Then I’ve got a generation on you.”

“Of course you have. You’ve always got to win.”

[magicalhideoutengineer]

Queenie & Grindelwald

Crimes of Grindelwald:

Alison Sudol: It's not so lovely for Queenie in this film. She has trouble because she doesn't speak French. She's not good at languages period. She has trouble with Newt's accent, so forget about Paris. So she's kind of getting a lot of information that she can't filter through in the way that she does. She's like clogged up by all of these information that she can't process, which is also part of the reason why it's easy for Grindelwald to manipulate her, because her instincts are not functioning properly.

- Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald - Makers, Mysteries and Magic: Chapter 6

Dan Fogler: I feel like she also reads heart shockers. If your intention is pure, then it confuses her. Even if you're an evil bastard, if you're intention is pure, she's like, "Oh, this person means well."

Alison Sudol: It's true, there's a purity … because her gift hasn't been something that she has been taught to use. She hasn't been mentored. It is literally, "Queenie, stop reading my mind." She could be one of the great witches of her all time with this gift, but it's seen as a nuisance. So, if you don't have mentorship, and you're taught that something about you is wrong – and you aren't developing it, it's only just happening to you – then the discernment between a pure intention and a pure intention of harm, you know, is quite confusing if it muddles the senses. That's what we encounter in this with her.

- Snitchseeker

I was wondering, wouldn't Queenie have noticed the change in Graves [Grindelwald]' thinking even though he looked the same?

JK Rowling: Occlumency.

- Twitter

Mads Mikkelsen: If I offer a character that is under distress and frustrated, alone, a misfit, if I offer some comfort and an ear that would listen, it's a smart way to get you followers.

Alison Sudol: Absolutely. You sense vulnerability and you use it, and it was painful actually. I know that might sound strange, but any time you are put in a position where you need to look more deeply into yourself or into humanity to learn about someone, I think it's really positive, because it just brings more understanding into the human condition really.

- Secrets of Dumbledore Interview

Alison Sudol: She made the mistake of believing Grindelwald could offer a better alternative. He used her vulnerability to his advantage, telling her what she wanted to hear, meanwhile separating her from everyone and everything she loved. He understands people's base desires and he plays into them. That's why he's so dangerous. It's something that happens in the real world all the time, a trap that so many young people fall into. We are not taught how to converse with our desires, we're taught to suppress them to fit in. It takes the considerable power of owning our feelings away from us and leaves it up for grabs, makes us a target for manipulation.

- Secrets of Dumbledore Production Notes

Alison Sudol: At the end of the second film, we see Queenie make a pretty shocking decision, something that no one really expected. But if you follow through the film, if you really think about it, she was sort of in one unfortunate circumstance after another because of the way that the wizarding world operates and the prejudice. Really all she wants to do is just be with the person she loves. The narrow-mindedness of the world she lives in puts her into a really vulnerable position where somebody that's really manipulative can tell her what she wants to hear, and that's gonna have an impact.

- Secrets of Dumbledore Press Conference

Alison Sudol: Well, Grindelwald told her what she wanted to hear, didn’t he? I mean, anyone with a little power of observation could see that she was desperate to be with Jacob legitimately, which was a much bigger deal at that time than it is today. She would do anything to be able to be with him. And because of the restrictions by the wizarding world, the narrow mindedness, the prejudice towards non-magical people, she was vulnerable to anyone who would say it could be different. Grindelwald pretended to be sympathetic to non-magical people to get her on his side. If the wizarding world had been more open-minded, she never would’ve been in this situation.

- Bearpost

Alison Sudol: In the last film, a lot of people were shocked by what she did, but then, as I thought about more and more about what happens in that film, she's abandoned by the people that she loves, and her sister's not there, and she and Jacob are fighting, and Newt humiliates her, and she's also up against a huge amount of prejudice, and Grindelwald offers what seems like an alternative to a world that is broken and is not allowing her to be with the person she loves.

- Secrets of Dumbledore Interview

“Grindelwald actually sounds like he’s all for love — if you love a Muggle, you should be allowed to be with them, and you should be allowed to marry,” Fogler reveals. “But wizards, he feels, should be on a pedestal. This is very tantalizing to some.

- Entertainment Weekly

Dan Fogler: Dumbledore can say the same thing and so can Grindelwald in his heart. That's why it's so easy for her. She's like, "Wow, he really believes this, that this can happen." This utopia that he's promising with his silver tongue. But there's a part of him that it's for love. So it's very confusing, which makes for really complex, dramatic, great scenes to play. Really interesting subject matter. 

- Sensacine

JK Rowling: We watch him corrupt an innocent, and we see his immense seductive duplicities, gift for speech in the final scene where we really see the danger of the man. 

If we look at what he is saying and analyse it, it does fall apart. However, if you're not paying a lot of attention to the substance and the inherent contractions in what he's saying, it sounds very seductive, very plausible, and it can persuade people that you or I might consider good people.

- ChicagoSciFi

'He's also a bit flirty,' says Sudol. 'It's the age-old thing of the good girl getting swayed by the bad boy.'

- Lights, Camera, Magic!: The Making of Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald

Alison Sudol: Grindelwald is very skilled at reading people, at understanding when someone is vulnerable and what they need to hear, and he also sees a part of her that she hasn't accepted in herself, which is this extraordinary gift that she has. There's a power there and there's a pull. There's no doubt about it.

- Secrets of Dumbledore Interview

Alison Sudol: So she is scooped up by Grindelwald in easily the most vulnerable moment that she's had in her adult life. She has very little at this point left to go to, so she's not protected by anything in that moment and he comes in, and it's very interesting the way that Jo's done this. Basically, you think of a predator or an evil person, a bad person's gonna come in and they are gonna be like an ogre and horrible and being like killing kittens in front of you and you are gonna be able to see that they are evil, but the thing about Grindelwald is that he's a master manipulator. He's all things to everyone that they need, and that is why he is so dangerous, and to Queenie, he very quickly understands that the way to get to her is through her giant heart, which is very open and very sore, and he comes in, he's vulnerable to her and sort of appeals to her and also reacts to her gift, which is a gift of being able to read minds, but Queenie's never been told that it's a gift. She's always been shushed, and It's always been a frustration and an annoyance to the people around her, and here you have this very intriguing, mysterious man who sees her as this powerful woman, and also he's saying, "I want what you want. I want you be able to love freely." She's been rejected by Jacob; it's no wonder she gets swayed by Grindelwald.

- Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald - Makers, Mysteries and Magic: Chapter 6 & The Archive of Magic : The Film Wizardry of Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald

Poppy Corby-Tuech: I think this is the power of Grindelwald, that he doesn't... He could've poisoned her, he could've drugged her, he could've used a spell, but actually I think he trusted that she would come to him in a really natural way and it would come from hers as opposed to her being forced. That is really the way that he's persuading a lot of people to do his very dark things around and it's not through mind games or through torture. It's through the sheer power of the words. Obviously, there's manipulation at the intent of it, but it's like, "If we lay the breadcrumbs, they will come."

- Speakbeasty

David Heyman: I think the fact that even Queenie can go over is really significant. The fact is that for me, Grindelwald is a much scarier villain than Voldemort. Because Voldemort was pure evil. People follow Voldemort as much because of brute, his power and brute force than his power of persuasion. The thing about Grindelwald is he makes sense or he makes sense to people. He speaks to the needs that people have. He understands his audience and he gives them what they want to serve his own needs. So I understand Queenie who wants to be with Jacob but where the magical laws deny her that possibility. You can see why someone who tells her in his world, in the world that he will rule, that she will be able to have what she wants. You understand why she goes over.  And that makes it to me, Grindelwald is relevant. He speaks to today. But he's also, because history repeats itself, a timeless villain and I think he's incredibly scary.

- Empire Podcast

David Heyman: Grindelwald is to me a much scarier villain than Voldemort, because Grindelwald makes sense to certain people. Voldemort's power is fear and intimidation. As Callum said, Grindelwald seduces. As much as we may hate certain politicians because they do not speak our language, we have to understand that they are answering the needs and vulnerabilities and insecurities of others. Grindelwald is doing that. That's why Queenie goes over. He makes perfect sense. I understand why Queenie does what she does. I may hate it. I may not like it, it may make me sad, but yeah [it makes sense].

- Coup De Main

His eyes meet QUEENIE'S in the front row.

GRINDELWALD —and for love.

We pan across QUEENIE, now heart and soul his .. .

- Crimes of Grindelwald: The Original Screenplay

Secrets of Dumbledore:

Alison Sudol: Queenie made a choice to take marrying Jacob into her own hands in the second film, which set off a chain reaction of unfortunate events that ultimately left her vulnerable and alone. Ultimately, she made a choice to cross over to Grindelwald’s side. It was shocking for a lot of people, but she was wounded and reckless. There was a lot of chaos around that decision, and it happened in a split second. Now in this new film, things have calmed down and the sobering reality of the world that she now lives in has descended. It’s not a world that she fits into, but she’s had to assimilate. Grindelwald sees her as a valuable asset for her power to read minds, which puts her in an important position among Grindelwald’s minions. That doesn’t mean she’s safe. She’s navigating this as best as she can, and it’s intense!

- Bearpost

Alison Sudol: So at the start of this film, we find her in a world that is very different than any world she's ever been in before. She's also being utilised for this tremendous power that she has, that she's either had to hide in the past or she's been made feel guilty about, and there is something interesting about that, about a person who hasn't actually been able to live fully as who they are, and I think a lot of young woman can relate to that as well, of what happens when somebody sees that thing, that burning part of you that nobody else sees. It's a tricky, interesting position. We don't really know where she's really to go and who she is and how she's going to move forward, because she's at a point in her life where she has sort of two ways to go, but she's made a decision that you can't really just say to Gellert Grindelwald, "Sorry, I actually..." It's pretty creeping, so maybe she won't be able to get away or mabye she will. That's what her journey is now.

- Secrets of Dumbledore Press Conference

Alison Sudol: Grindelwald's on a mission to become the leader of the wizarding world by hooker, by crook. He's not the kind of guy that's gonna do it the right way. He's gonna do it the way that makes it happen, and earlier on, she observes him do something completely unthinkable and cruel, disgustingly cruel to an innocent creature for his own benefit, and it's shocking, and it's unclear what she's seen up until then, but I don't think it takes her very long to realise that she's dealing with seriously villainous people.

- ChicagoSciFi

Mads Mikkelsen: He's an odd man, because he picks some allies that he knows are not fully on his side. So there's a little game for him. He seems to take pleasure in manipulating people that he knows are not a believer of him. But obviously if you can turn them over completely, it's a win-win situation. If you can't, he will have a very fun and good time with them. But also it's an old saying, right? Keep your enemies very very tight, very close. But she's a fantastic tool as well. She has the ability to read people's minds, and that can come in very handy.

- ChicagoSciFi

Mads Mikkelsen: Oh, Grindelwald doesn’t trust her at all. But there’s something about Queenie—she can read other people’s minds, but she’s also a very bad liar at the same time. So, Grindelwald has a hunch he can trust her to the degree that she can’t lie straight to his face. And then, as was said before, both Dumbledore and Grindelwald have this tendency to manipulate people around them. The difference is that Grindelwald doesn’t mind people around him that could be dangerous for him. He finds it interesting. It’s a little game. Life becomes more interesting when you have people around you that might turn on you. It keeps him on his toes.

- Bearpost

[fangirlstorycreator]

Hey sorry I was not clear enough but basically what I meant was 

But basically mateo has a 16 year old daughter who lives with him and u didn’t know u was pregnant until you give birth and u was scared to tell your dad but in the end after he was mad he was supposed of you and your baby and help as much as he can and Mateo the dad who is mad, but who ends up supporting her as much as he can and it is mateo and the child pov if that ok x

I think I understand now anon, I will try my best and I hope you like it 💚

School was a nightmare, yet again. The boy you had a huge crush on was ignoring you after the beach party you both attended, and he never even called you after you both spent the night together on that boat. You just tried to focus on your school work and hanging out with your friends too. But something had been bothering you for a few days, a pain that had been growing and gnawing away at you from your belly. As a teenager, your period was always mixed up and never came at the same time as before.

And you had been known to completely skip a period or two in a row, but this was a very long time now, and you were worried. You were at the legal age to have s#x, but you didn't want your mum and dad to know about that, especially not with your 17th birthday just 2 months away. But maybe there was something that happened to you when you slept with your crush that's making you feel this way? You didn't have a baby bump or any other pregnancy symptoms, so it couldn't be that. Maybe he was lying about not being clear of STI's? And maybe this feeling is that? Whatever it was, you needed to find out, and discreetly, before anything really bad happens.

When you got back from school, you passed your mum who was making a drink in the kitchen. "Hi honey, how was school?" "It was ok, I guess" You were born in Spain, but your dad was Spanish and your mum was English. So you were pretty much fluent in both languages, and used both depending on who you were with, just to make it easier. Dad knew English, but he did get his words muddled up sometimes, it was funny. "Are you ok? You seem a little distant" "I'm fine mum, I'm just gunna head out to the beach for a while. I'll be back soon" "Take your phone with you and text me if you need anything ok?" "Ok mum" Getting changed into something comfy, you head back out and walk down to the benidorm beach front with all the shops and bars on the front. As you were walking in the sand, water lapping on your bare feet as you hold your shoes, you hear a voice in the distance. You see your dad, Mateo, walking towards you. "Hola, cómo estás Y/N?" "Hola papá. Are you heading to the hotel?" "Yes, miss Temple-Savage is making me clean the pool after an old orange man nearly died in it" "What?" "He's ok, still orange but not dead. Are you ok? Where are you off too?"

"I'm fine, just going for a walk" "Ok then Y/N, mantente segura mi querida" "Lo haré, nos vemos pronto papá" Giving you a wave, he heads to the Solana where he works as you carry on down the beach and on towards the old town. Washing your feet in the water before coming onto the path, you see your friend Lacey walking down the street. "Lacey!" You shout, trying to get her attention. "Hey Y/N, how are you?" "Well that's the thing, I don't feel well" "Oh? What's wrong?" "I don't know...but I need some advice" "Ok?" "I think this illness I'm feeling is something to do with Jake" "Jake? Why Ja-Huh! No! You didn't did you?!" "Just, try and keep your voice down ok?" "You slept with him didn't you?!" "Well, yeh. Kind of" "Kind of?! I can't believe you slept with him! That's great! Oh...you said your not feeling well" "I've got this kind of numb and slightly painful feeling in my stomach" "Are you pregnant?" "I cant be, I slept with him nearly 9 months ago, and if I WAS pregnant, I'd have a bump. There's nothing there" "You certainly dont LOOK pregnant, what do you think it might be then?" "I don't know...maybe an STI?" "Did Jake use protection?" "He told me he did, and I saw him pull the condom out of his pocket"

"But did you SEE him put it on?" "Uuhhh..." "Oh my god Y/N....you've got to be more careful" "I know, I know, I've learn't my lesson" "Ok, do you know what your going to do?" "I'm going to go to the local doctors in the old town, can you come with me?" "Of course, lead the way" As you and your friend walk into the old town, it's very quiet, hardly anyone was there. And it seems that the pains you were having, were about to get worse. "Ouch!" "What's wrong?" "I felt...it felt really sharp right hear. Why the hell did-OUCH!" You fall to your knees, holding your stomach as it gradually got more and more painful. "Oh my god! Y/N what do I do?!" "I-I don't know! Call-call my mum! Please call my mum!" Lacey takes her phone out while still rubbing your back, trying to help ease the pain as she calls your mum. "Hello?" "Mrs Castellanos?!" "Is this Lacey? Are you alright?" "No! Something is wrong with Y/N!" "What's happened?!" "She said she wasn't feeling well, and we were going to the doctor in the old town. But she's in so much pain! I don't know what to do!" "Where are you?" "By tapas alley!" "Stay there! I'm on my way!"

Lacey ends the call and is back with you again. "Should I call your dad?" "He won't answer, he's working right now-hhhsss! Ooowwww!" Just as you thought this pain was going to be too much, your mum parks her car right beside you both. "Y/N!" "MUM! It hurts so much! I'm scared" "It's ok baby! I'm going to take you to the hospital now! Lacey, sit in the back, I'll get Y/N in" Your mother drove like she was in a race, she was extremely worried about you. She practically demanded a doctor to see you when she brought you into the hospital. Thanks to her, they got you your own room and were seen too immediately. The pain wasn't stopping, and you had no idea what to do. Your mother was there by your side every step of the way, holding your hand when the doctor was trying to find out the cause of your pain. "Mrs Castellanos! We need to sit her up in a more comfortable position, now!" "Why?! What's happening to her?!" "Just please help me, the baby is about to come out!" Huh? Baby? What baby? You weren't pregnant? Were you? Your mother looked utterly shocked as she helped you sit up, what was she supposed to think? What were YOU supposed to think? "Y/N? Honey, your pregnant?" "I-I didn't know! I swear!"

Another pain comes, and you squeeze your mums hand for dear life. "Alright young lady! It's time to push! Hold your mothers hand and listen to me ok! Take a deep breath, and push!" Doing as she says, you push with all your might, it was excruciating. "That's it! The head is out! One more push and the baby will be hear! Take another breath now, and push!" Taking the biggest breath you can, you push one last time, harder than you had before. And within seconds, the instant relief washes over you, and the sound of a baby's cry fills the room. You were shocked by this whole moment. You had just given birth! You WERE pregnant! And now there was a baby, hear, in your arms. "Congratulations young lady, it's a healthy baby boy" The doctor said, you couldn't say a word, you just look at the baby in your arms, unable to say a thing. It's your mum who speaks first. "He's beautiful........Y/N...why didn't you tell me?" "Mum, I swear, I didn't know I was pregnant. I had no bump, no morning sickness, nothing" "How is that possible doctor?"

"I have seen this before, but it is extremely uncommon. It appears your daughter had what is known as a "Cryptic Pregnancy" In most cases, the pregnancy won't show a bump and a lot of women have not shown any sign of pregnancy until 20 weeks. However, there are the rare few that don't show or realise they are pregnant, until they actualy give birth. Studies show that around 1 in 2,500 pregnancies go unnoticed until delivery" The doctor checked your notes while your mum was still shocked by the whole thing. "Can I have a moment alone with my daughter please doctor?" "Of course, just press that button if you need help" Once the doctor left, your mum held the baby in her arms and started walking around with him, smiling at him. "Y/N.... this is....I don't know what to say" "I'm so sorry mum" "It's ok honey, I just want to know why you didn't tell me you were s#xually active? Your only just at the legal age. Is this why you've been distant lately? And why you've been having bad pains?" "Mum, it was just one time, I swear. And he said he wore a condom, I saw it and everything! I honestly though this was some kind of illness, or STI. And I was going to the doctor today to try and deal with it. I'm so so sorry, I know your angry with me"

"No Y/N, I'm not mad at you" "Your? Your not?" "No" she says calmly as she walks back to you and sits on the hospital bed, carefully placing the baby in your arms. "I'm not mad at you honey, your a teenager who was doing what teenagers do. I am angry that this boy didn't use protection. And I am angry that YOU didn't double check, or take any birth control before hand. But, what's done is done...and this is what's happened. You are holding a baby, your baby" "I know....it's strange....but nice....really nice" "There are a lot of choices you have to make honey, but there is one incredibly important question" "What's that?" "Y/N.....are you ready to be a mum?.......do you want to keep this baby?" "I....I know that looking at him...makes me feel this feeling I've never felt before. It's something I don't want to loose....I don't want to loose him. I know this is going to change my life forever mum, I really do understand......and I don't care if I won't sleep for the next 18 years, I dont care about anything else anymore. Just looking at him....he's perfect" "It's a feeling that only a mum can feel, and that's what your feeling. So? Are you going to keep him? Yes or no?"

"But what am I going to do for money for him?" "Don't worry about that just yet, I work from home anyway so I can help you out. You can rest up from having him first, bring him home, and me and your dad can go and get some things he will need. A cot, a buggy, formula, clothes ect. And once he's settled, you can go and look for a job to help pay for him" "Oh god! Dad! What am I going to tell him?! How do I explain this to him?!" "Y/N, it's alright, I'll go and talk to your dad and explain what has happened" "He's going to be so angry isn't he?" "There is a possibility his anger may be directed at this boy who is the father. You and your friend Lacey have spoken about a boy at school many times before, is it him? Is it Jake?" All you can do is nod, feeling ashamed of what you've done. But your mum just kisses your forhead, and looks down lovingly at her grandson. "He needs to know about this Y/N, do you have any way of contacting him?" "I have him on instagram, but he's not answered any messages I've sent him recently" "Sounds like a normal teenage boy to me then. Right, what's his full name? I'll find his mother online and contact her and Jake. But first, I need to go and speak to your father. Let's get the doctor back in hear and get this little guy weighed and checked over, and once your both ok, I'll pop out to the Solana and speak to your dad, ok?"

"Ok mum" Once she called the doctor back in and she did the weighing and checks on you and the baby, your mum called Lacey into the room and asked her to stay with you while she was gone. Lacey agreed and was more than happy to sit with you and the baby. "Awwww! He's so cute! And so small" "He looks small, but apparently he was 8 lbs 7 ounces" "Really? Woh! Aww but look at his little face. Can I hold him?" "Yeh sure, just sit in the chair though" "No problem" Carefully you place him in her arms, and her smile is beaming. "He's so tiny.....your so lucky Y/N....have you though of a name yet?" "I don't know, in the space of one day, I've discovered I was pregnant, gone through labour, had him, and now planning in my head how I'm going to take care of him for the rest of my life. A name right now is a bit tricky to focus on" "I can try and think I some names for you if you like?" "That would be nice, yeah. My mums gone to tell my dad, which is scary enough. But I'm more worried about what I'm going to tell Jake" "Oh yeh, I hadn't really thought about that. How do you think he'll take it?" "I have no idea, and that's the thing that's worrying me"

Meanwhile, your mum had just arrived in the Solana, where she saw Joyce at the front desk. "Oh hello dear! What brings you hear?" "Joyce, I'm afraid there is a family emergency, and I need to take Mateo from you" "Oh! Yes of course, I'll go and fetch him for you. It's a quiet day today so he's a spare member of staff anyway" "Thank you Joyce" 10 minutes later, Mateo and Joyce walks back to the front desk. "Hola mi amor! Miss Temple Savage said you have come to see me? Some kind of emergency?"

"Yes babe, come with me and I'll explain everything. Your going to need to sit down for this. She took him to a seating area outside the hotel, and explained everything from start to finish. Your pains, going into labour and being in the hospital right now with the baby. And it was safe to say, that Mateo was more than shocked, his mouth was wide open and his eyes focused on your mother. "She.......my daughter.....how?" "She said it was a boy she had a crush on, she's been so worried about me telling you babe" "My baby has her own baby....I can't believe it.....is she ok? Is she in pain?" "No, that doctors said she had no damage, and the baby came quite quickly. She's resting in the hospital with Lacey now"

"And.....who is this boy who got her pregnant? Cabron hijo de perra!" "Mateo! Language!" "I'm sorry mi amor, I must hate that he's left her like that on her own" "He doesn't know. Hell! She didn't know until she was in labour! Once she's ok, we'll contact this boy and his family, tell them what has happened" "Ok.....I still can't believe it....my daughter is now a mother. We have a grandchild?" "A grandson" "It's! It's a boy!" "Yes Mateo, and I think we should go and see if both our daughter and grandson are doing ok" "....yes..." "Mateo, let's just walk up there and try to take deep breaths ok?" "Yes, I think I have too" Back in the hospital, Lacey had given you back the baby so you could feed him, and the more you held him, the more your love for him grew. "How is it possible for me to love someone who's only been alive for no longer than an hour?" "It must be what they call mother's instinct" "Yeh, I think that's what my mum said too. I hope my dad didn't go insane over this" It was as if his ears were burning, because as soon as you said that, him and your mum came into the room and saw you. "Dad!......dad I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't know I was pregnant! I thought I was just unwell-and then the pains started-and he came out-and-"

You kept trying to tell your dad what was happening, but he just remained quiet as walked over to you and sat beside you. "I know it's going to be hard, but I can't let him go-I love him dad-I don't want to miss out in raising him and trying to be a good mum! I'm...I'm sorry..." Mateo didn't say a word, just looked into your eyes in a softening way. Resting a hand on the baby, he leaned over and kissed his little hand. "He's beautiful mi querida, I'm so proud of you" You burst into tears, you were so glad he wasn't angry with you, and you pulled him in for a tight hug, desperate to show how much you loved your dad. When you both pulled away, you even handed him the baby, letting him hold his grandchild for the first time. "Beautiful....our little grandson" a few days later, you were able to leave the hospital with your baby, and your mum and dad helped you bring him back home. Where they had bought everything he could ever need. Your mum loved having a baby around the house, and your dad...well your dad was being extremely over protective of you and the baby. He would be super gentle with him, and not let you lift a finger, not even to do cleaning or dishes. He absolutely adored your little boy, everyone did. Well....you say everyone....you still hadn't heard anything back from Jake, but that was about to change.

You were due to take the baby to the registry office tomorow, but you had yet to think of a name for him, you were still unsure. You had just got him chaged into a new baby grow after feeding him, when the doorbell went, and when your mum opened it, it was Jake! And his mother. "Jake? What are you doing hear?" "I've uhh...come to see the baby" "Our baby Jake" "Yeh, I guess so" It was a little awkward, his mum seemed thrilled to see the baby, and Jake just sat beside his mum, not knowing what to do. "He's beautiful Y/N, he looks happy and healthy. It's so wonderful to finaly meet my grandchild" "Thanks Faith. You can hold him if you like?" "Oh yes please" You hand the baby to Faith, and she is so delicate with him, you felt happy knowing he was being held by another trustworthy mum. "Oh he's beautiful. Don't you think Jake?" "Uhhh, yeh" "Yeh? That's all you've got to say?" "He's just a baby" "He's YOUR baby! That you and Y/N created together. You should be thanking Y/N and her family for taking such good care of him" "Why? I didn't ask her to get pregnant" Anger built within you. "Seriously Jake?! You told me you used protection! You lied to me, you can't blame this completely on me!" "It was just a fling Y/N, why should I have to-" Your dad smacked his hand on the kitchen table, definitely getting Jake's attention.

"You got my daughter pregnant....you have a responsibility now, weather you like it or not. Don't you DARE disrespect my daughter like this, when she has brought your baby into the world!" "I ain't disrespecting her, I just don't see why I should have to do anything. She's the mum now" His own mother hits him in the back of the head. "Yes! And YOUR the dad! You are my son! And you will look after this baby, because it's your responsibility, as much as it is Y/N's!" "You can't make me mum" "Oh yeh? You live under my roof, you will do as I say. You are going to finish school in a few months, then the second you finish, you will find a job and pay child support for your son!" "What? That's not fair! I don't want a job! I don't want to be held down by a baby" "Well tough! Maybe if you hadn't have lied to this young girl, and actually taken the right precautions, you wouldn't have to be doing this! But your baby is hear now! So suck it up!" Jake just scoffed, not liking that he has to grow up. He thought for a moment, then looked right at you and said "Fine, I'll help out a little if he's named after me" "Excuse me?" "Yeh, he's my boy, I want him to have my name" "Like hell he will" "What? I can choose his name if I want"

"You haven't bothered to see him by yourself for the last few days Jake. You only came because your mum made you, and your refusing to pay for him. Why in the world would I name my child after someone who doesn't want to be a part of his life?" "Because I want him to share my name" "He will...your last name. Legally your his dad, he will have your last name, but that's all. I will decide his name, I have been the one who had been taking care of our baby since he's been born, not you! My mum and dad have been there for me every step of the way, and you look like your fed up being hear. I mean for god sake Jake! You haven't even asked to hold him! He's right beside you in your mums arms, and you won't even look at him!" "Yeh? So?" "Get out! I mean it get out!" "Seriously? Your being so stupid kicking me and my mum out?" "Not your mum, just you! Get out!" "FINE!" And with a slam of the front door, he was gone, and the anger was staring to go away. "I am so sorry for my son's behaviour, he's acting like a child" "He's his own person Faith" You say sympathetically, she comes and sits over with you, aswell as your mum and dad too. Your mum hugs you around the shoulders, then Faith says "He's going to pay for child support, he won't have a choice. But until then, I'll send you and your family some money for him" "Faith, you don't have too" Mateo says.

"No, I want to, I insist. You've brought my grandchild into the world, and I want to try and support Y/N, the baby, and the rest of you as much as I can" Faith was such a lovely woman, let's hope that Jake does actualy realise the importance of the situation, and actually wants to be a part of his sons life.

You, your parents and Faith spent the remainder of that day spending time with the baby, and building those important bonds. And the next day, after Faith had dropped off some lovely baby clothes for you, you and your dad had made your way to the registry office. Your mum was busy looking for a new carseat, so your dad came with you instead. You knew that your dad wasn't particularly happy when he first heard the news about you and the baby, but the second he saw him, you knew life was going to be diffrent. Jake had been waiting at the office, and when he saw you, and your dad walking up as he was holding the baby, Jake just scoffed and walked in, looking like he didn't even want to be there. "Don't worry mi querida, you have all the support from me and your mother" "Thanks dad" Walking down the hallway and into the little office, Jake was already sat on one of the chairs, so you and dad take a seat too, with the registrar sat behind her desk. "Alright, do we have both parents for this lovely little boy?" "Yes" "Mhm" Jake just slumped in the chair, he could at least act like he cared. "Alright then, so firstly, you both are not married, is that correct?"

"Yes" "Alright, so the baby will take his birth fathers name, which is Brooks. Now, does he have any first and last names?" "Yes, he does have both" Again, Jake just scoffs, because he knew you didn't name the baby after him. "His first name is Lorenzo" "That's a lovely name miss L/N, let me just write that down. And his middle name?" "His middle name is Mateo" Your dad looked utterly shocked! He looked at you, tears welling up in his eyes. "Mi querida? Your giving him my name?" "Of course dad, you've been there for me and him. I want to show you how much that means to me" He couldn't help his joy, he pulled you in for a loving hug. "That's stupid!" Jake says defiently. "You wont name him after me? But you'll give him your dads? This is ridiculous!" "Please be quiet Mr Brooks. Miss L/N's parents, and YOUR mother did call ahead and explain the situation to me before hand, and you don't have the right to be so rude to the mother of your child" "I don't care, you can't make me like her. Just like you cant make me pay child support" "Oh....but the law can" "Huh?" "I'm sure your mother has already told you that you have a legal responsibility to this baby? Well she is correct. As soon as you turn 18, you are required by law to pay child support for your son" "Uuugghh!" It was like he was acting like a child who was being grounded, you hated that he behaved this way, especially with your baby right there in the room.

"If you could both sign the papers hear, little Lorenzo will be all done" Grabbing the pen, Jake signs the paper and just leaves, it really got to you. But your dad held your hand to comfort you, and the registrar tried to ease your worries. "Don't worry Miss L/N, I've seen worse dads waltz though hear. But I can tell your going to be a great mother to your son, and by the way your parents help you, I know you will have a great support network to get you through the tough times ahead" "Thank you" You smile a little and pick up your pen, signing the paperwork and being handed Lorenzo's birth certificate. "I hope you all have a good day" "Thank you" Mateo said as he takes you and Lorenzo out of the office and the building. You held your baby in your arms, seeing his beautiful little face, blue eyes and blonde curly hair, loving him more and more each second. "I am very honoured you decided on my name as Lorenzo's middle name mi querida" "It's something I wanted to do for a while now, and I also think it suits him. So...being a mother starts hear, with you.....Lorenzo Mateo Brooks....my little boy"

[boosqoowoo]

beenzino - 990 (english lyrics translation)

this is just my interpretation of what 990 is, but the first thing that came to mind is New Balance 990 which is a model of a shoe that Beenzino participated in promoting. this could be an entry of events in his life that happened while he was wearing the shoe

on the other hand, 990 could also represent the maximum score one could get on their TOEIC exam, (Test of English for International Communication) an international standardized test of English language proficiency for non-native speakers. It is a test that students in Korea study really hard for, and getting a high grade is important for their future prospects. this interpretation is more used in Ximya's verse, where he talks about the casteing based on material aspects such as academic background. at the end of the day, his last line iterates that even if you get full marks, a whole 990, you won't be able to reach Nirvana because there are more things to life than the number on the exam paper.

굽이 굽이 굽이 굽이 굽이 ay ay 굽이 굽이 굽이

골목길에 내 990

a curvy alley, my 990

굽이 굽이 그 새낀 센 척해도 후 불면 쓰러질 것만 같아

after acting strong that fucker looks unstable and faint

유혹에 너무 약하지 늘 뱉은 말에 반대

unlike the words he always spit, he is weak against temptation

이 비트 들어보면 막 뱀이 나올 것만 같은데

after listening to this beat it feels like a snake is going to come out

but 난 뼈로 컨트롤하지

but im controlling it with my bones

내 삶은 모든 게 내 맴대로 되게 했지 through this rap game

through this rap game, everything in my life has gone the way I wanted

그대로 떠나버렸지 난 스웨덴으로 수학여행

and just like that I left to go on a school trip in Sweden

사람은 숨 쉬어야지 this ain't rocket science

people need to breathe this ain't rocket science

틀에 처박혀 살았다면 뭘 해도 남다른 게 나오겠냐고 이게 내 과학

if i lived in a frame, I can’t do anything special, that’s my science

isn't it so fucking obvious motherfucker?

이제 내 날개인 너네 중 누구가 와도 절대 못 꺾어

now none of you can break my wings

언제나 내 시연 전방에

my eyes are always looking forward

내 차 기름은 전기로 충전되지 네 기름통엔 과거밖에 없지

the gas in my car is electrical while your gas tank only has the past

몇 방울 남았나 확인해 내 wine bottle

check how many drops are left in my wine bottle

독일에서 산책해 라마랑 새 파트너가 된 뉴발 신고 난 풀밭을 밟아

taking a stroll in Germany** with Lamar* and my new partner**, wearing New Balance and treading on grass

*famous rapper Kendrick Lamar

**Beenzino’s wife Stefanie Michova is German

나도 열어야겠어 세미나 왜 이렇게 내 삶이 재밌냐면

i have to open up a seminar to explain why my life is so fun

조금 돌아가도 언제나 straight up 예술로

even if I go back in time a little, it is always straight up art

they don't know

굽이 굽이 굽이 굽이 굽이 ay ay 굽이 굽이 굽이

골목길에 내 990 굽이 굽이

a curvy alley, my 990

should've went to law school

여긴 전부 도둑놈 새끼들

over here are all the thieves and fuckers

Cut Backs 앞에 바로 Fuck Rap

in front of Cut Backs is Fuck Rap

*when a company is facing financial difficulties, they have to make cut backs to cut losses. in this case, Ximya is saying that when times get rough, rap is the first to go. Ximya has stated on multiple occasions that rapping no longer appeals to him as a profession. In the next line, however, we can see that he is conflicted about retirement with all the pseudos in the scene.

절이 싫은 중 떠나질 못하네 나의 중도

even if i hate it halfway, i couldn’t leave my middle school

맞지도, 맞지도 않지도 Fuck em pseudos

even when their right, even when they’re wrong, fuck em pseudos

I stutter money but money speaks fluent

*a twist on “money speaks for itself”. Ximya implies that even if his speech is muddled or unclear, his money will get his meaning across.

i am the honey, but money is the glucose

*honey is composed mainly of glucose and fructose. Ximya is saying that in the end, the parts that make up his being is, again, money.

나는 원했고 여긴 원하는 것 죽여버려

kill what you and everyone here wished for

그냥 네가 원하는 건 좆도 묻어버려

just bury your dick all you want

여긴 외모 재산 학력으로 caste-ing

they perform caste-ing* here based on your appearance, properties, academic background

*caste system is an old social hierarchy system where they separate people into ranks and are treated differently

1000 중에 990

990 out of 1000

너도 나도 Sudra

me and you are Sudra*

*Sudra is the lowest rank of the caste system

대세와는 정반대

the exact opposite of the current trend

여긴 겉만 부드러워

it is only soft here

흩뿌려버릴 새끼들

sprinkling fuckers

부름 앞에 수그려

bow down in front of the summon

i stutter money but money speaks fluent

그게 너의 신 나는 나무아미타불

that’s your God, I’m Namu Amitabha

fuck being beings

모든 게 조건 뒤에

behind all the conditions

990가지 열반 못 가는 지혜

there are 990 kinds of wisdom that will not reach Nirvana

[faint-kitten]

Infodumping about MGS Dialouge

I watched the MGS 4 cut scene again, because I wanted to know why Big Boss was alive and hugging Snake at the end. I knew it happened, but couldn't remember why. And it reminded me of this issue with Kojima's writing.

Throwing this in: I think Kojima's writing has another issue, in that…

Imagine trying to articulate the themes and ideas of the internet age before we really had definitive words for them? Kojima often is trying to communicate something he's thought about or read, without necessarily having words for the public to understand them.

Like "Memes" as a thing existed for years, but not as we would understand a 'meme' now. Without that it's hard to explain a concept like an internet meme to someone before it became a thing we could all point at and wrap our heads around.

Similarly Kojima (i think) is trying to explain thoughts he's having, that some people might not understand the themes or philosophies behind them. Then you have is writing style. Then you have to have it get transalted from japanese to english, where they're not always 1 to 1. Then you have to put that into a voice actor, who has to deliver it as best as possible.

And it's sort of like that thing, where you say "apple" and expect someone to visualize an apple. Except here, you know what an apple is, but you can't visualize the apple in the context of what Kojima is saying so in a weird way you suddenly grasp the concept of the apple even if you can grasp "apple" (that one might be weird). So there's a lot of words (I think) like Big Boss's speech at the end of MGS 4, or Skull Face in MGS V, where all of the sudden you have a voice actor trying to do this huge monologue and it's got these layers standing between you and completely grasping what the fuck Kojima is talking about.

Then you have to factor in that there's a LOT of it.

So there's…whatever the uncanny valley of spoken word is. A lot of dialogue SOUNDS like english words being spoken, you understand the sentences, but they're kind of spoken wrong, by native english speakers, as if english isn't their first language. It's a similar thing that happened with Silent Hill Ascension: humans are speaking english. But I don't know what the fuck they're saying. And it's not always bc they're using "big" words or ideas I don't understand.

So a lot of dialouge when he's trying to express his ideas, gets muddled down.

This gets confusing for me, because there's a lot of times, where if you aren't invested in the series or don't remember a lot, if you don't remember these names or phrases or organizations or acronyms.

The one that hit me last time I played MGS V was there's a conversation with Miller where he's explaining that you're hired by a company that doesn't exist, to disrupt a pipeling owned by a company that doesn't exist, funded by money that from an account that's dissapeared, from companies that don't exist. And he's slinging so much jargon at you trying to build up suspense and explain the layers of "Oooh you were hired by a ghooost company! Weird huh?" Like I understood the concept of a "Shell company" or the idea that funds can be diverted around the world to escape regulation to GRASP what he was trying to communicate. But the words themself meant nothing because it was just too dense with acronyms and terms I'm not really learning about because I don't care about business or the business world.

So between Kojima's writing skill. The length. Translation. ideas he can't articulate. ideas he can but have concepts, phrases and acronyms you might not be familiar with in the text. Then the Performer struggling to give it the proper emotional depth.

You end up with this weird jumble that kind of makes sense if you remember everything MGS has ever said, and a lot of it that you only KINDA get because he takes the time to explain some of it. But not all of it.

[emdeerm]

The stranger chuckled and gently pat Bruce's back.

"Hey, it has been a while, huh?"

Bruce just buried his face further into the shoulder of a slightly taller man. Silent tears were soaking into the white T-shirt.

The children were flabbergasted.

"What the fuck."

"Language, Master Jason," Alfred chastised gently as he suddenly appeared behind the frozen group.

"It's good to see you again, Alfred," the man greeted his voice all choked up.

"Same to you, Master Danny. You gave us quite a scare."

No matter how professional the old butler liked to be, he couldn't not hug one of his children.

"Welcome home."

-----

"So, B has a younger brother and no-one thought it was a good idea to inform us?"

After the heartfelt reunion, Alfred left the family to figure themselves out and to prepare a feast. Now Danny was faced with the force that is many children of his older brother.

He heard the stories and even had a chance to see them sometimes through the veil, but meeting them in person was a blessing he didn't think he'd ever get.

"Tim-"

"I forbade him from doing so," Danny cut off his brother, who looked at him incredulously. "B, keep your mouth closed. Your communication skills have become worse since the last time I've seen you."

That got some of the nephews and nieces to laugh at least.

"What do you mean?"

Dick. The oldest and the child who was adopted just a year after Danny had to go MIA.

Danny sighed. "I'll start from the beginning. Sit down, it'll be a long one."

-----

Danny was kidnapped when he was 10.

He could still remember the terror he had felt on that night.

And he could still remember just how shocked everyone was when a couple in hazmat suits accidentally rammed into them, apologised, grabbed their tech that got scattered about and left. Accidentally carrying Danny with them.

His parents were so inattentive at times, it was painfully hilarious.

("They just picked up a kid by accident, saw that later and decided to keep you?!"

"Pretty much."

"B, why can't anyone in the family be normal?"

"Hn," was the amused reply.)

He wanted to go back home but after some digging around, he realised that it was safer for everyone if he was missing for a little.

He died and came back at 14.

(Danny pat the back of his older brother and shot a reassuring smile to the others. "Yeah, I'm crossing that of my Vigilante Bingo too.")

He couldn't return to his brother yet. He now had his own problems, nemesis and rogues to deal with.

("You were a teen vigilante?! Alone?!"

"You gotta do what you gotta do. Ghosts were out and about and were dangers to themselves and others. I'm the bridge. I had to fix that.)

He ended up never revealing himself to his parents and moved out at 18.

He was home.

His brother was gone. The company and everything else were left in Alfred's hands for a few years by then.

Danny picked up the slack. He worked hard. He knew his brother would be back. Clockwork said so. And the time keeper usually wasn't wrong. Danny wanted his brother to be set for life when he returned.

When Bruce did come back, it took them a while to fully recover their relationship

("B's fault, really. He refused to listen to any reason lr explanation," *shrug*

"Sounds like him."

"I don't know," mused Alfred, who was suddenly there, "if I recall correctly, your pranks and pettiness weren't helping. "

*open laughter*)

They grew close again. Danny helped with Batman things by creating gadgets and being the man on the comms.

("One would be surprised how useful overshadowing technology can be."

*jealous noises from the select few*)

Everything was fine. Until Clockwork came to them with a mission that Danny couldn't decline or do quickly.

The time stream was destabilising. The world had a chance of completely falling apart. And Danny's status as a Halfa would allow him to be in the least amounts of danger while fixing that.

("I forbade talking about me. Clockwork and a few others pulled some strings that muddled the memories about my existence in the minds of others. I needed to disappear for this to be resolved. We had no idea when I'd be back."

The implied "if he would be back at all" was left unsaid.)

------

The next JL meeting saw an unusually chipper Batman with an invisible companion.

Martian Manhunter sensed the amusement from both and let them be.

Shazam recognised the feeling. His friend came to visit!

Let's go Bruce!

Masterpost

Lighthearted

Bruce and Danny were inseparable. Especially after the deaths of their parents. But that all changed when Bruce decided he had to become the protector of Gotham. He disappeared one night with only a note detailing his plans. After years of no contact with his family, Bruce thought he'd come home to an empty house or at the very least, a livid brother. Instead he was greeted with a massive bear hug and excited chatter. Apparently Danny had stayed. Not only that, he had taken over Wayne Enterprises and made it the leading company in pretty much every industry. What was most surprising is that seemingly, Danny had done it all for him. In his words, "If you're gonna go running through the streets beating up criminals, you might as well do it with the best tech."

Angsty

It didn't take long after Thomas and Martha's passing for distant relatives to come out of the woodwork. One relative was even bold enough to kidnap Danny. Due to the corrupt nature of the police department, they were slow to act. By the time they caught the relative, Danny had already escaped on his own. Bruce was devastated that he couldn't have even protected his little brother and this incident solidified his dedication to the mission. Meanwhile, Danny was picked up by some kind scientists who were in town for a convention.

Years later, the Batfamily hears Bruce cry out at the door. Everyone springs into action ready to fight. Only to find their father desperately clutching onto a stranger as tears stream down his face.

[malstermonkey]

The cause?

I have been thinking so much about you all day the result of which is that I have just brushed my teeth with my face cream! My mouth is now all out of kilter, though softer than ever? That one is on you....

Now, I wish I could talk to you, I wish I could be having the conversation which follows face-to-face as, when all things said are difficult or the conversation veers into the realm of the unbelievable, it's the other things (body language, a comforting/cautionary hand laid on your forearm, the disarming openness, as well as the courage to say things which ring neither true nor are easy to accept, the honesty, the love) which will prevent you from just dismissing what is said (written in this case) as just hogwash.

Lass, let's start with un-braiding what is happening with your team & your job............they are separate issues (and, yup, I know you are already thinking I'm going all poppycock here, there is, of course, an overlap here, but the causes and drivers are different and therefore they don't mesh and therefore you have what is, in your mind, a serious clusterfuck) -- read me out, please!

Your team is unresponsive because they are intimidated by you (and in some cases even frightened) -- not because you are an angry person who rules by force of fear and a capricious, unpredictable temper (though, having stood in the way of your anger -- OFTEN -- in years gone by, it ain't a bundle of fun, believe you me!). No yo'u're intimidating because you're so very good at what you do; where good comes in the form of being absolutely determined to make this job a success, where it is clear you recognise that this requires you to meet an incredibly high standard...............and meeting this standard comes in the form of exhibiting very exacting traits and behaviours which few (none?) of us can match you in -- your unbridled honesty, acid & excoriating self-critical demeanour , an insatiable willingness for learning (and a hunger for knowledge) more-often-than-not voiced in the unflinching form of asking "why?" (just look at your LinkedIn bio) and undoubted intelligence.........this is stuff you have in spades but few (esp. me) do -- add to this your impatience (which shows itself in the form of taking on the teams tasks yourself (you do this too often)) and the people who work for you conclude that they'll never measure up to the individual that is you and therefore, are unlikely to be able to produce work which will meet your minimum standard.........so they don't.........

Me? you ask........intimidating?? Yup, lass, you -- not by dint of fear but by dint of just holding yourself to such (personal) high standards (even if this manifests itself in the simple form of admitting you're wrong......): sadly for most of us this is stuff -- whilst coming naturally to you -- which is totally alien (others tend to live in a fog of denial, don't care for the emotional and intellectual heavy lifting of bettering oneself, of taking responsibility for one's actions).

In fact, we muggles unconsciously choose for the easy way out (denial) and drown our subliminal sorrows in watching shit tv, eating crap processed food, alcohol and voyeurism........not for us the discipline and rigour of exercise, a healthy lifestyle, the pursuit of betterment and the demands of looking out for others (our unconscious choice is to opt for an aneurysm sitting on the couch slumped with backpain as a result of being morbidly obese).

For us it is enough to get through the day unscathed, to muddle on to what comes next and to find comfort in the repetitive nature of it all: so, when confronted by the force of nature that is you............well it's just easier to deny that you exist at all!

And, you ask, what is this shit about just shutting down and not doing stuff because I intimidate you? Do I not encourage? Do I not compliment? Do I not take the time to help you (the team) understand what we are working towards? Have I not set out our purpose clearly? What more do you need from me?

And that last one is the key: your team doesn't need more from you, they need less..........LESS. They need to feel empowered to learn, to make mistakes, to grow into their jobs and to grow into your estimation -- their problem is they think you set the bar too high and consequently, don't even take the run-up, let alone trying to land the jump!

And let me stress this is not because you're overbearing, this isn't because you're a tough taskmaster, it is because of the person you are, of how you carry yourself, of the standards you set for yourself and aspire to. We all wish we could have only 15% of what you have and we'd be happy..........

So, lass, there's the cause -- don't dismiss me out of hand (it's easy to do), but think on it............recognise that this neither was nor has ever been your intention, that you don't set out to intimidate, in fact, you try to be the very opposite of that. Think on this, let it percolate around that (enormous) brain of yours and then tomorrow let's think of ways we can tackle this issue, how we soften the perception of how others think of you.......

How do I know all this (for so fucking sure) -- well, lass, it happened to me, I went through the same experience -- I faced exactly this same situation when I was running a team of people (much to my astonishment), it seems they were so in awe of my insights and intelligence it shocked them into doing nothing! Aaaaargh.

Secondly, I too live in awe of you: how you carry yourself, the standard you aspire to, your honesty, your intelligence, your caring nature, your funniness (your beauty).............it's, for me, awe-inspiring but I, of all people, also know the other side of that coin.............and that's the scary part.

More tomorrow, meantime I'll take the licks, the anger and denials which this blog no doubt deserves........but, before you lay in to me, it is only those who truly care for you, who want only the best for you and who, dare I say it, love you (bottomless empathy) who dare venture forth to call it as they see it.

[pistolslinger]

What are some vocal headcanons you have? do they have a stutter? a vocal tic? do they stumble over their words or use a lot of ‘uh’s and ‘um’s? do they have a word they like to say a lot?

CHARACTER QUESTIONS.

jesper is pretty direct in his speech! he's not prone to saying um, uh, or ah repetitive in a sentence/during pauses — unless he's been pretty flustered or taken off guard.

as for his actual speaking voice: jesper is a naturally fast talker. being fluent in 3 languages, having adhd, and naturally talking fast lends itself to jesper getting some words muddled (saying things in the wrong order sometimes, smashing two words together by accident, talking so fast he's essentially slurring his words) now and again.

sometimes he'll forget the word for something in [zemeni/kerch/kaelish] and forget it in all other languages he speaks, too. it's not often, as he's well read and well spoken, but like, it happens to the best of us! (nina dni do not bring up his verbal typo ever again, you menace, you pest)