#but that's not what i expect to happen :( at least it's there anyway

[britcision]

(Muahahaha this is going to be extra juicy)

Okay so Danny adopting Robin and immediately leaving him to just keep haunting the night and being a vigilante does immediately put him in literally the exact situation Bruce is in, but worse because he’s not just a ward

The argument isn’t ��does the recent orphan think you’re his dad”, it’s “you’re not taking care of your kids”

(Because yeah, Dick that young? Recently watched his real parents die, pretty sure he was a ward because Dick violently protested adoption)

Another fun thing about Dick that young: Bruce didn’t want him to be a vigilante either

Dick was breaking out of anywhere he was put with murder in his heart and a frankly upsetting set of skills

So when this smartass “king of the dead” declares he can be a better dad, “adopts” Dick, and just… leaves him in an alley?

Well, back to the batcave and the next two weeks are all about researching Daniel Fenton and Danny Phantom from every angle

And for all Bruce is still smarting because he is goddamn trying to stop this terrifying little murderchild from chasing gang leaders bare handed… by the end of week 2 he’s a little hopeful

Because sure, Danny hasn’t actually done anything to stop Dick from running around kickflipping off buildings… but maybe he actually could

Superman can’t stop Dick Grayson from running around kickflipping off buildings

So Bruce sits down with indisputably the angriest and stabbiest of the Robins until Damian arrives with his own sword and kill list, and suggests that the next stage of the investigation should be Dick going to “investigate” Danny at his place (and see what exactly he thinks he’ll do better than Bruce)

Dick, feral mischief murdergoblin, agrees and makes his way to Danny’s the next day, claiming he had a fight with Bruce

Danny, who totally has been supervising Dick invisibly, makes him welcome, and they sit down to have a talk about why Dick wants to be a teen vigilante

Cuz sure, Danny was one too, he remembers what it was like! But he’s an adult now, and he reckons reassuring the murderbaby that he and Batman can handle everything will help Dick relax back into babyhood

He is not expecting Dick to demand the head of the man who killed his parents

Technically it’s easier than “end all crime in Gotham”, which is Bruce’s mission, buuuuuut murder is not the same as therapy

Danny calls Jazz to talk to the murderbaby

He also asks Dick not to go out Robin-ing that night

(Mostly planning to take Dick out on baby training run the next day if the kid really wants to keep being a vigilante until he can become a murderer)

Dick stares at him

Dick agrees

Dick waits 3 minutes after Danny turns his back and runs off to punch more bad guys because he craves violence

Cue the most stressful 6 weeks of Danny’s life trying to keep Dick alive while Dick is the least helpful possible to that goal

This kid is fully human but you’ve gotta convince him of that, he’s already more comfortable in free-fall than on the ground

Danny isn’t even actually trying to stop him from patrolling, he just wants to be sure Dick doesn’t do it alone but until he communicates that Dick is gonna keep sneaking off and even after he has, Dick is gonna run off alone to try and commit that murder cuuuuuz technically he and Bruce “broke up” so he doesn’t have to follow the bat code (according to Dick)

Danny and Bruce run into each other on the way into some supervillainous hide out to rescue the criminals from Dick and have the most awkward metaphorical elevator ride

Finally Danny sighs and shakes his head

Danny: Okay so I definitely underestimated this kid and I’m genuinely impressed you kept him alive

Bruce: hn *your apology is accepted and I am glad you see things my way*

Danny: living children are hard

Bruce: hn *you sound like my butlerdad*

Danny: oh word you’re Alfred’s boy? Neat, always wondered what happened to him

Anyway long story short Danny and Alfred get parent trapped by Dick and Ellie (they dated on some of Danny’s Adventures In Time and Danny stans a silver fox)

Bruce is mortally offended six weeks later when Danny cheerfully proclaims that he wins, since he has now successfully adopted Bruce

Bruce tries to adopt Ellie, who is immediately against it. She keeps throwing him off her trail and he keeps tracking her down. She's honestly concerned, and normally she would handle her problems by herself- but this is Batman.

So when Bruce gets a little too close and Ellie is just so tired... she calls for Danny.

"Mom!"

Cue college student, perpetually tired and overworked Danny "High King Phantom" Fenton appearing from the very shadows Batman normally does himself, seeing the situation and going off at this "clearly older man" chasing his daughter in the middle of the night.

Cue the most elaborate "stop trying to adopt my kid before I adopt yours" series of battles

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 21

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: Día de Los Muertos, year three. Word Count: 11.6k Warnings: possible second hand embarrassment at the beginning; a new character introduced; some Spanish, but translations are in-text; mention of deceased loved ones; fluff and more fluff; face painting due to the celebrations; I think that's all??? 🤭 A/N: Hiii, just want to remind everyone that three new chapters were posted in early October. I know some readers missed one or two because the algo sucks, so check this post out to access all three chapters just in case you missed one! Music Inspo: "Cuando Vuelva a Tu Lado" - Eydie Gormé, Los Panchos "Recuérdame (Arrullo)" - Gael Garcia Bernal, Lucy Hernández "Remember Me (Lullaby)" - Gael Garcia Bernal, Gabriella Flores, Libertad García Fonzi Masterlist

Part 21

You look around your apartment, making sure your place looks decent for the hundredth time. It smells good, you know that. Miguel told you so when he arrived earlier for breakfast with you. Unfortunately, he had to leave because you have a guest coming.

With a sigh, you return to your small kitchen to look at the coffee pot and freshly baked pastries you made for the occasion.

Despite spending the night in Nueva York at Miguel’s penthouse, you came back to your own place to bake because you’re expecting a person you never thought you’d be welcoming into your apartment ever again: Harry Osborn.

It’s been some time since you’ve seen him and ever since then, you decided to give him another chance. After debating for so long, you felt that it was right. At least, a part of you does. You have a feeling that neither Miguel nor the rest of the spider gang are happy with your decision because of Harry ditching you when you needed someone the most. You don’t blame them. If you were in their shoes, you’d probably dislike Harry, but well, you’re not in their shoes and you know Harry personally. There’s history with him, all the way to elementary school years. How can someone ignore that? Yet again, Harry did once, you suppose. You ultimately decided to do this for Peter, for his sake.

You figured he’d be open to giving Harry another chance, to maybe find out what happened, though that’s not a revelation you’re searching for right away. You’re sure with time, Harry will share the reason for his abrupt exit from your life. You’ve wondered already what the reason or reasons were, but none of your own explanations make sense. There was never a reason for him to do such a thing; to walk out of your life like you were no one to him.

There were no signs and that’s what made it hurtful, even if you were planning on cutting ties with him anyway when you thought you were doing everyone in your circle a favor by shutting them out. It came out of nowhere, just like your encounter with him that day at the flower stand, and now, you’re waiting for him to arrive to your home once more, so many years later.

You wipe the counter with a kitchen towel, feeling a bit anxious about this considering you’re practically strangers. Sighing heavily, you wish you were either going to be alone for the next hour or so, or back in Nueva York with Miguel at the penthouse.

You look at the spot where Miguel sat earlier during breakfast, the seat now empty. The two of you agreed that it was too soon for him and Harry to be introduced, at least in person and formally, so Miguel left about fifteen minutes ago.

That’s why you’re waiting for Harry alone, even though you wish you could’ve gone through the same multidimensional portal Miguel, who looked equally unenthusiastic about leaving you, opened. He didn’t say anything, but you could see and sense the hesitation. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but he had to.

Your cleaning ceases when you hear a knock at the door, realizing Harry is here. Breathing in and then out, you make your way to the door and look through the peephole to confirm. Seeing it’s Harry, you unlock and open the door with hesitation.

In front of you, Harry stares back at you, dressed in a business suit despite the fact that it’s Saturday, the second of November — Día de Los Muertos [Day of the Dead]. You notice he’s holding a bouquet of pretty flowers, but you don’t pay any more attention to it beyond that. Meeting your gaze, Harry offers a small smile, which you return.

Then, at the same time you offer your hand for a handshake, Harry steps in for a hug. He ends up running into your hand, freezing at the formal gesture before backing away in embarrassment.

“Sorry -” you start, lowering your hand.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that,” Harry apologizes with an awkward smile. He steps back again and then, simply offers the flowers. “These are for you. I was driving by the same little flower stand we ran into the other day, and I thought some flowers would be great since your building is back and running. Well… has been for a bit, but since I just arrived to the states, you know…” Harry trails off.

“That’s thoughtful of you, thank you,” you answer, carefully taking the flowers. “Come in.” You gesture for him to enter, closing the door once he’s inside. You lead the way to the kitchen. “Please take a seat. I have some coffee and freshly baked pastries.”

Behind you, Harry thanks you as he settles on the kitchen counter, taking one of the two chairs — Peter’s, or at least the chair that used to be his. “It’s so great to see you again,” Harry starts as you find a vase to place the flowers in. “I… Thank you for — for calling me back. I know you needed some time to think about it, and I… I’m grateful to have heard back from you. To be here after all this time.”

“I’m glad to have you here,” you answer, giving Harry a smile before continuing to fix the flowers. “Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re lovely.”

“Of course, I’m glad you like them,” he answers.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Harry replies, prompting you to withdraw two mugs from a cupboard, even though you already had one coffee with Miguel. You carefully pour the fresh coffee and fix some pastries on a plate before placing everything on the counter.

“It smells great in here,” Harry comments, flashing you a grin when you place the mug in front of him. “It always smelled amazing here though, with your great baking.”

You hum and offer a smile, staring at the man you never thought you’d see in this apartment again. Seeing him sitting in front of you, with the rest of the apartment behind him is a strange sight. You can’t help but think that Harry looks out of place, even though there was a time in which he visited this place every weekend. He was once in photos that decorated your gallery wall, too. You swallow subtly. “Thanks. It’s the baking. It’ll make your home smell great for hours. And, the oven will warm up the place — so it’s perfect for the colder months, too.”

“Yeah, I can see that. It’s so cozy in here. It always was,” Harry says, looking around the kitchen for a few seconds, observing, or perhaps remembering the days he used to come over.

You’re about to respond with another weak answer when there’s a knock at the door. You both look equally surprise to hear it.

“Are you expecting someone else?” Harry asks, looking over his shoulder and at the door.

“No,” you answer, putting your mug down and walking around the counter towards the door. “Let me see who it is. Might just be a neighbor,” you add, reaching the door. You peek through the peephole, feeling your spider senses act up probably out of the nervousness and awkwardness from this get together. You step back, unlocking the door while looking at Harry. “It’s your… Chauffeur? Butler?”

“Felix?” you hear Harry ask as you open the door to face the older man.

“Hey,” you start softly. “Come in. Is something wrong?” you ask, wondering if there’s an issue.

Brown eyes thoroughly scan your face, as if memorizing it. You remember this is the first time the man has seen you up close, so you disregard his focus on your face.

“Felix?” Harry says, standing next to you now. “What’s wrong?”

“Forgive me, sir,” Felix says looking at Harry to address him before turning to you. “And ma’am. Nothing is wrong. I noticed Mr. Osborn left his wallet at his apartment and decided to bring it to him since he’s driving.”

“Oh, I could’ve sworn I did pick it up,” Harry says while Felix retrieves the wallet from his own suit. “I guess I was a little… Never mind. Thank you, Felix,” Harry continues, accepting the wallet and tucking it away. “Shouldn’t be driving around without a driver’s license, huh?” he asks, looking at you with a sheepish smile.

“Certainly not,” you answer, still standing there, feeling Mr. Felix’s eyes on you. “You don’t want a ticket.”

“Definitely not,” Harry responds. “Thank you, Felix. As always, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Happy to help, sir. I’m sorry for my sudden appearance. I hope you and Ms. Y/N don’t mind the interruption,” the man says, lowering his face slightly as a form of apology before straightening again. “I shall leave you two now and return to my duties.”

“We don’t mind,” you answer, giving him a nod of understanding. “It’s kind of you to have brought Harry his wallet.”

Felix turns to face you, eyes meeting yours. You silently decide he’s about fifty years old or so, based on his demeanor at least. He nods back. “Just doing my job, ma’am, which I take very seriously.”

“Too seriously, sometimes, Felix,” Harry says with a bit of a chuckle, clasping his hand over the man’s shoulder. “He’s a great man, Y/N. He’s been working with me for years and I don’t plan to let him go until he decides to retire, which he states he has no plans on doing, so, he’ll be my right hand indefinitely.”

Offering a smile, you extend your arm to formally greet him, a sight that makes Harry wince internally when he remembers the awkward moment you both had earlier when he arrived. You introduce yourself and shake the man’s hand when he accepts yours.

“Felix. Felix Kerr,” he introduces himself, giving you a firm handshake while holding your gaze. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am. I have heard nothing but wonderful things about you from Mr. Osborn and his father.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir. And that’s kind of you, and of Harry and Mr. Osborn,” you reply, withdrawing your hand and turning to Harry. “We’ve known each other since elementary.”

“A long time,” Harry says with a grin before he remembers that you’re not so acquainted with each other anymore. As if sensing his boss’s change, Mr. Kerr nods at him.

“I’ll be at the apartment, sir. Please notify me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Felix. I doubt I will, but I appreciate it. Careful on your way back,” Harry softly says.

“Will do, sir. Ma’am,” Mr. Kerr addresses you once more, nodding at you before turning on his heel and leaving.

“Sorry about that,” Harry says as you gently close the door.

“It’s no problem, no need to apologize,” you answer. “You needed your wallet. Please, take a seat. Again,” you say with a soft amused smile, trying to break down the awkwardness. “Before the coffee and pastries gets cold.”

You both reach your previous spots again now that his personal assistant, or whatever title Mr. Kerr has, is gone.

Harry picks up his mug and takes a sip, smiling at you. “It’s great. Thank you for it.”

“You’re welcome.” You smile slightly, twirling a spoon in your coffee. “So… How was your trip? Did everything go smoothly?” you ask, hoping to make conversation, which you succeed because for the next thirty minutes, Harry tells you all about his trip from the elegant and luxurious hotel he stayed at, the food he ate, a brief summary of the business dealings, and what he did on his free time. You try to ask questions to keep the conversation going, showing interest. You figure this is a good way to begin to know the man in front of you again.

“But enough about me. What have you been up to? How was your move-in?” Harry asks once he’s done telling you about the different historic locations he visited on his free time.

“It went well. Smoothly,” you state. “I had to clean, a lot, but it didn’t take me too long.”

“That’s good to hear,” Harry says nodding, turning on his seat to look at the living room. “You had… help, I hope?”

You look at the living room, not answering for a few a seconds. “Yeah, I did. Thankfully,” you answer simply, not providing any more information beyond that, like how it was Miguel who helped you clean.

Harry hums and stands up, walking closer to the living room, still looking around. “It looks so different,” he murmurs. “Despite the fact that it’s still the same place.”

“Yeah… It’s been some time since you were here,” you reply, opting to keep to yourself that only over a year ago you redecorated the place for the first time. You don’t want Harry to know that you kept the apartment the same for years after Peter’s death, from the furniture to the placement of objects.

“I know,” Harry replies with a sigh, moving to touch the couch. “You’ve changed the couch.”

“I did,” you say, remembering that the old one is still at Miguel’s place in storage. Staring at the new one, you realize maybe it’s time to fully depart with the old one. You haven’t even thought much about it. You suppose it’s true what some people say: out of sight, out of mind. Perhaps much like you’ve been for Harry and him for you. “It was time to replace it, unfortunately.”

Harry nods and turns around, his eyes landing on the gallery wall where photos that included him used to be displayed. Now, there are photos of your new friends. With interest, Harry gazes at them, walking closer.

You watch him carefully, knowing this will be the first time that Harry looks at the entire spider gang and Miguel.

“Are these — Are these your new friends?” Harry asks.

“Yes,” you simply answer, moving so you can look at the photos, too. Your eyes spot the various photos that you left up since you made sure to remove every single photo in which you or any of your friends are wearing their super suits to avoid revealing your super hero identity and raising suspicions.

Harry nods again, his eyes stopping on a photo specifically — the one of Miguel and you with Mayday from New Year’s Eve. “Hm… That little kid again. What was her name again?”

“Mayday.”

“Mayday, that’s right…” Harry trails off, still staring at the photo.

Based on his interest, there’s no doubt in your mind that Harry is wondering about the man next to you in the photo, the one with the little kid on his shoulder.

“Is that her dad?”

“No. That man isn't her dad. Her dad's name is — “ you pause when you almost say Peter's name, realizing it might be weird for Harry to hear that you befriended a Peter after your own. “Benjamin. He's a good friend of mine along with his wife.”

“Benjamin…” Harry hums at that. “Is this ‘Mig’?” Harry asks, reminding you of your first encounter with him at that flower stand after years of not seeing each other. You were grocery shopping with Mayday and after a bit of conversation, Harry invited you to a coffee shop for a drink. It was there that Harry asked about your living situation because he had learned about the fire to which Mayday eagerly replied with ‘Mig’ — unfortunately revealing that you were staying at someone’s place. Thankfully, Harry didn’t prod for answers then. You recall his answer to Mayday’s simple response was that as long as you were safe, that’s all that mattered.

Now, it seems that Harry wishes to know more, especially now that he’s seeing all these new faces on your gallery wall. It must be strange for him, you realize, to see that the people you both knew once — laughed, ate, shared jokes and memories with — are no longer part of this space, and instead, there’s all these new people that are now your family, but strangers to him.

You stare at the photograph, at Miguel specifically. There’s no point in denying, or withholding information when you’ve left all these photographs out. You didn’t want to hide them. Hiding them would mean hiding the people who’ve brought you so much happiness, who have become your family. It didn’t feel right to hide them, the small family who took you in when you were all alone and helped you be where you’re now, not even to protect the feelings of the stranger in your living room who you once knew so well.

“Yes, his name is Miguel,” you finally say, not providing a last name. “And he’s my best friend,” you add, with a firmness and pride that leaves no doubt in Harry’s mind that you mean those words with every fiber of your being.

He turns to face you, tearing his gaze away from the man, Miguel, who seems to be in a lot of pictures with you. He hasn’t failed to notice that, of course. He'd be blind to not notice that Miguel makes up a big portion of your gallery wall.

In fact, the number of photos this Miguel is in, is the same amount as Peter, your Peter.

“Your best friend,” Harry repeats, with that thought on his mind. This man is your best friend, and he along with Peter, make up the majority of your gallery wall. This man is part of the gallery wall just as much as Peter, your previous best friend and lover, is. That thought makes Harry grow still before his eyes flicker to your left hand for a second, as if searching for something. His gaze returns to your face when he finds nothing special, yet the idea doesn’t abandon his head entirely. “I’m glad you have people to rely on,” he continues some seconds later, giving you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, though you don’t notice that. “They seem like good people.”

“They are. They’ve been an amazing support system over the last few years,” you answer, turning to the gallery to scan your friends’ faces. A smile, one so warm and gentle, so tender, forms on your face.

“You truly seem happy,” Harry comments, taking notice of the smile. “I’m happy for you.” After a pause, Harry turns to the photos again. “So… This is who you were staying with… This Miguel?”

“Yes,” you simply reply. “With Miguel.”

Nodding once more, Harry turns to face the photos again. His eyes scan every photo with the man. There’s the one with you and him and Mayday on New Year’s Eve. There’s the two of you putting together some kind of furniture piece, which Harry quickly realizes is the new bookshelf in your living room.

The realization leads Harry to register the truth — this man is important to you and ingrained in your life, so much he's helped you build furniture for your apartment’s new look, which seems like a too personal task. A task that only close friends, or a boyfriend, would do. At least, in his mind it seems that way.

Harry continues to look at the photos before his phone begins to ring, startling the two of you. He apologizes for the interruption before taking the call.

Remaining in the same spot, you listen silently. It seems to be about work.

“I’ll be there soon,” you hear him say quietly. “See you in a bit. Bye.”

Hearing him end the call, you turn to face him. “Everything okay?”

“Yes… Yes, everything is okay. I just — I must go. Something came up at work,” Harry says, his tone apologetic. “I’m needed, so I must go now. Being the boss's son sometimes means work on Saturday. I’m sorry for how abruptly I’m departing.”

“That’s alright. I understand. Work is work,” you answer, genuinely. “Do you want some of the pastries to go?”

“I — Do you mind?” he asks, slipping his phone into his jacket’s pocket.

“Not at all,” you say, quickly entering your small kitchen to pack some of the pastries for him. In seconds, you gather a few pieces and wrap them up for him to take. “Here you go.” You hand him the package. “I hope you enjoy them. Maybe you can give one to your dad. Tell him I said hi, by the way.”

Harry takes the package and nods. “Thank you so much. I will. I told him I was coming here, so he knows. He was happy about it,” he says, giving you a smile before you both move to the door. Harry’s strides are long and quick, so much his handkerchief falls to the ground without his knowledge.

You stop and pick up the dark green piece of fabric. “Harry, you dropped your handkerchief.”

“Oh, I didn’t even realize,” Harry says, turning around to take it from your extended hand. He easily slips it back in place. “Thank you. For that, and for the coffee and pastries. And for having me here, in your home.” He looks down at the package with pastries, trying to formulate the words before speaking. Once he gathers his thoughts, he looks up at you again. “Thank you for the chance you’ve given me — You have no idea how much it means to me, Y/N. Thank you,” he gently states, stepping closer and looking at you.

“It was nice having you here,” you answer genuinely despite everything. “I hope you enjoyed the coffee and pastries, and of course… You’re welcomed here.”

Harry smiles slowly at you before he steps closer. “May I… May I hug you?”

You nod slowly, agreeing to it, and that’s all Harry needs. He carefully wraps his arms around you, placing his chin on your shoulder.

Not knowing what else to do, you hesitantly place your hands on his shoulders from beneath his arms, staring at the ceiling and feeling weird about hugging Harry after all this time.

You close your eyes slowly and think about all the times you’ve hugged your friends, the spider gang, before you think of someone else. Unbeknownst to Harry, you think about hugging that someone else: the man in your photos Harry kept staring at, Miguel.

You frown slightly. You got a hug from Harry Osborn, someone who hasn’t been in your life for years, before you got a hug from Miguel, your best friend.

At last, to your relief, Harry pulls back and so do you. You offer him a smile. “Go. Work calls.”

Reaching the door again and opening it, Harry gives you another smile. “Yeah, I must get going. Thank you again for everything. Be careful alright?” he says, already halfway out, his gaze sweeping over the place once more, thinking about the new look of your apartment and the fact that Miguel helped you — that that man has been here in your home and helped you redecorate it.

“Will do,” you reply as he begins to close the door. “You, too.”

“I will,” Harry says, waving goodbye and beginning to close the door, but stopping at the last second. You stare at each other for a few seconds. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N?”

You nod your head, confirming. “Yes, soon.”

“I’m relieved, thank you. Take care.”

“You, too,” you answer, waving goodbye.

With that, Harry finally closes the door. After a few seconds, you lock it and sigh, leaning on it. That was a bit awkward.

You finally push yourself off the door and clean up the kitchen before you hang the other photographs back on the wall. Over half an hour later, you change into your suit and slip out of your apartment for a quick patrol of your city, trying to clear your mind after meeting with Harry.

You swing around the city for almost an hour, stopping a bank robbery and a petty criminal from stealing someone’s purse in that time span. You eventually travel to Nueva York, where Miguel waits for you at the penthouse.

“Hiiii,” you say, offering a smile to Miguel as soon as you step out into the living room. You find him carefully laying out some of the decorations for his ofrenda [Day of the Dead altar] on the coffee table, preparing.

Hearing your voice first before he sees you, Miguel smiles and turns to face you. “Hey, how did it go?”

You sigh and sit down on the couch. “It went.”

Chuckling, Miguel sits down across from you as well, deciding to take a break to give you his full attention. “Was it that bad?”

“When he first arrived, he was going for a hug and I offered him a handshake,” you confess, feeling a rush of embarrassment at that. You press your hands to your forehead and sigh. “So embarrassing. And awkward.”

Miguel offers you a small smile of understanding, though his interest perks up when he hears Osborn went straight for a hug. He clears his throat. “That sounds uncomfortable. How did you handle it?” he asks, curious to know if you eventually hugged Osborn.

“We apologized to each other, and then, he gave me some flowers he brought,” you state, leaning back on the couch.

Flowers? Miguel watches you lean back, noticing the little get together got to you a bit. He hums, thinking about the interaction.

“We talked for a bit about his business trip over coffee and pastries. He eventually looked around the living room and saw my gallery wall. He asked about you,” you continue to share.

“He did?” Miguel asks, intrigued by that.

“Yes. He remembered that Mayday mentioned a ‘Mig’ that day we ran into him at the flower stand. He looked at one of the photos of you and I with Mayday, one from New Year’s Eve. He asked if you were ‘Mig’ and I confirmed it. I told him your name — just your first one — and that you’re my best friend.”

Hearing you say that, and the way you say it so proudly, brings a gentle blush to Miguel’s cheeks. He smiles fondly at you, elated with the fact that you told Osborn about him. Miguel silently wonders what Osborn thought about him and the rest of your friends, however.

“After that, he said he was glad that I have a support system,” you continue, telling him about the remainder of the get together, including the hug at the end.

The revelation that Osborn got a hug from you after all, leaves a slight pout on Miguel’s lips and a strange feeling he doesn’t have enough time to identify. All Miguel knows is that Osborn seems to have received what he wanted from the start.

“It was a bit awkward, but I suppose it will be like that for a bit, considering we’re basically strangers at this point. It’ll take some time before that feeling goes away. Anyway, I’m glad we had that little get together, no matter how uneasy it felt, and even gladder that I’m here again. I’m so excited to cook and bake, and help you set up your ofrenda,” you eagerly say, standing up.

“I’m excited, too. I started on a few things already to ease the workload. I’ve set up the other pots and pans we’ll be using, the dry ingredients, and the supplies for the ofrenda. I figured it would help since gathering the things takes a bit of time, too. I also finished the filling for the tamales [Latin dish].”

“Gathering everything is a process of its own,” you agree. “Collecting everything, or as much as you can, beforehand, helps so much. You avoid the running back and forth when you’re actually doing the task, and prevents you from entirely skipping a step because you’re all over the place. It’ll make the process run much smoother being organized, especially since we’re doing a lot of cooking! Do you want to start now?” you ask with so much excitement it’s clear to Miguel you’ve been looking forward to this.

“If you want to, yes,” Miguel answers, standing up as well. “But first, I think you might want to change into more comfortable clothing since we’re doing a lot.”

You look down at yourself, remembering you’re wearing your suit. “You’re right. I’ll be right back!” you tell Miguel, already halfway to the stairs.

After changing into far more comfortable clothes — clothes you’ve left in your bedroom, at Miguel’s penthouse — and turning on his record player, Miguel and you begin to work on the food for the ofrenda.

Hominy for the pozole [Latin dish] is placed in a pot to boil along with the necessary vegetables needed for the sauce and flavor.

With that done, Miguel makes the masa [dough] for tamales, so you can begin making them.

As always, you work together with ease. You move around the kitchen in sync, making steady progress while Latin romantic ballads play in the background.

You also open the packages of candy and set them on a tray to later offer to each of Miguel's family members.

Little by little, progress is being made. You reach a point in the cooking that allows you to take a break and have lunch before you both set up the ofrenda, using tables and shelves to give it two levels.

White tablecloths are used as the base before gorgeous and vibrant banners made out of papel picado [pecked paper] with intricate designs cut into it are hanged at the edge of each level. Colorful and handmade sugar skulls are placed throughout both levels along with white candles to be lit later on.

To finish, both Miguel and you add marigold flowers to the ofrenda. They're fresh and so lively, their scent filling Miguel's living room, where he decided to set his ofrenda this year.

While placing a flower down, you find it hard to believe that you’re here now. Three years ago, Miguel showed up to your apartment out of nowhere. Smiling, you recall that evening.

You were doing chores, specifically putting items away where they belonged and laundry. All of a sudden, you sensed a portal and when you stepped out into the living room, there he was, Miguel. He looked around your apartment, probably noticing the autumn decorations before you asked him if everything was okay. You were surprised by his random appearance and even more so because he looked calm, so your guess was that nothing was amiss. Still, you had to ask just in case you needed to change into your suit.

“Are you busy right now?” Miguel asked after he assured you everything was fine.

“I was just doing some chores, so, no…” you replied, unsure of why Miguel was there so late. He was calm and said nothing was wrong, so that meant there was no threat to the multiverse. At least, that was your impression.

After nodding and sighing to himself, he told you his reasoning for being there. “I would like — to show you something,” he said, meeting your gaze.

In the span of minutes, if even that, you were in the lab and looking at Miguel’s ofrenda for his family.

That was what he wanted to show you, his offering and way of honoring and celebrating those who were once in his life, but now gone. By doing so, Miguel also wanted to assure you that your own way of honoring and celebrating Peter was okay — that you weren’t alone. It was a way of reciprocating the vulnerability you had allowed Miguel to see on Peter’s birthday. And since you had made him part of your celebration, Miguel wanted to do the same for you, something that brought you so much tenderness at the time and continues to do so to this day.

Now, three years later, you’re at his penthouse helping Miguel set up his ofrenda again, just like last year. The difference now is that you’re here instead of at the lab because Miguel decided to set it up at home since he spends more time here than he did in the past. You hum softly and place the last flower before turning to look at Miguel just as he adjusts Gabriel's photo.

You smile at the sight. Gabriel, Gabriel O’Hara. How you wish you could’ve met him and Gabby, the same way Miguel wishes you could’ve.

Heck, Miguel even wishes you could’ve met Conchata. Perhaps she would’ve liked you. Perhaps she would’ve done better as a mother and grandmother to Gabby if all three of them were still alive. Perhaps.

You look at each photo before meeting Miguel’s gaze, both your mouths curving upwards into a smile.

“I was thinking,” Miguel says, still smiling, but with a hint of shyness and hesitation. Perhaps it’s too much what he’s about to say, what he’s about to offer. He scratches his neck nervously, his cheeks red. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, or offensive. Or… find it weird, or to be too much,” he continues, rambling without realizing it. “I was wondering if you’d like to — like to add your loved ones’ photos, too?” Miguel manages to ask at last, staring at you sheepishly. He has been thinking about it for days, about asking you, but he kept going back and forth on the idea, and now it’s Día de Los Muertos and you’re both here. Maybe it’s a stupid idea, or too much since it’s about your deceased loved ones. Miguel almost begins to apologize for the bad idea, but then he notices the look of surprise and then tenderness on your face.

You slowly smile at him, a sweet smile. “You’re serious?”

“Yes… Yes, I am,” Miguel gently replies.

“But this is for family,” you state softly, wondering if Miguel has truly thought this through.

Miguel nods and that’s how you realize that he knows, that you’re making his point. It’s for family. He’s offering your loved ones a place on his ofrenda because you’re… Family.

You’re part of Miguel’s family.

“Oh…” you simply answer, a small knot forming in your throat before you push it down by swallowing. You smile. “Are you sure? I mean…” you look at the ofrenda, thinking. “It’s your ofrenda and I don’t have any food for them anyway, and I don’t want to crowd —”

“There’s plenty of space,” Miguel says gently. “As to the food, I can help you cook just like you’ve helped me. There’s plenty of time for it.” Noticing your smile, Miguel smiles, too. “Just say the word,” Miguel continues. “And we'll start immediately.”

That’s how, a bit later, the ofrenda is no longer only Miguel’s. It’s his and yours.

Instead of only four portraits, there’s seven. There’s one of both your parents, one of Aunt May and Uncle Ben, Peter, Conchata, Gabby, Gabriel, and Miguel’s wife. Like Miguel, you’ll be offering favorite foods and snacks later on when he does, too. Additionally, you went ahead and added belongings to your loved ones that were significant to them in life. For Peter, you’ve obviously offered his record player and favorite albums.

When you place the last one, a Billie Holiday album, you step back to look at everything. There’s even more sugar skulls, candles, and banners than before. And, the scent of marigolds? It has grown tenfold because more were acquired by Miguel, who went out on a quick trip to buy more.

You smile, feeling thankful for the kind and sweet gesture and privilege to share and partake in such a beautiful tradition with Miguel.

“There,” Miguel gently says with his own smile, staring at the ofrenda with everyone now. He hums and readjusts a flower in front of your parents’ photo before stepping back, standing next to you. “We can place the food in a bit,” Miguel offers before something catches his attention through the windows.

A few seconds later, you both walk to the windows to look closer. Vibrant holographic sugar skulls decorate the sky above Nueva York’s downtown, announcing that the celebrations have started.

At the sight, Miguel smiles softly. It’s been several years since he’s gone to any of those events. Too many years. He slowly turns to face you, noting the smile and intrigue in your eyes. He doesn’t even think about it twice before he makes another offer. “Do you want to go?” he asks. “There’s always live performances, amazing food, small businesses, and great music.”

“Really?” you ask softly, looking at him. “Do you want to go?”

With you? Anywhere. Miguel grins and nods, not sharing that thought. “I’m up for it, if you are.”

You chuckle with a spark in your eyes. “I’d love to!”

-♡-

When you reach Nueva York’s beautiful downtown, the sight of sugar skulls and marigolds greet your and Miguel’s eyes. Lively music reaches your ears and the wonderful, mouthwatering scent of food sold from food trucks reaches your noses.

As you both walk side by side, you notice children eagerly pointing to the holographic sugar skulls in the sky, trying to get their adults’ attention. Countless of people walk around with their faces painted in the traditional sugar skull makeup with intricate patterns. You also notice that many girls and women walk around with beautiful and bright hair accessories, many of which include big flowers.

Pulling your jacket closer to you due to the chilly weather, you smile in delight because of the spirit. There’s always an energy to Nueva York, but tonight, you can sense a different kind — one that seems to be almost pulsing. You silently wonder if that energy comes from those who have departed this physical world, but are visiting their loved ones still on Earth once more.

Your thoughts are interrupted when a lady from a small booth beckons Miguel and you with a bright smile. You glance at Miguel before looking back at the lady, quickly realizing the service she’s providing: painting people’s faces for the celebrations.

“Would you guys like to have your faces painted? I have a special price for couples!” the woman offers, still smiling.

You look away with a small smile. There it is again.

Only three weeks ago on Miguel’s birthday, back in your universe, Mr. Stanley assumed Miguel is your boyfriend. Now, there’s this lady also making the assumption. Thankfully, Miguel didn’t seem to mind. He said it was an innocent assumption, which calmed your worries about him being offended that day.

Next to you, Miguel scratches his neck after hearing the woman’s words. Once again, someone has assumed you’re dating. Despite how many times he’s been told that personally, Miguel still finds it surprising. Do the two of you give that impression? He wonders, considering that this lady has to be the fifth or sixth person to make that innocent assumption. He then wonders how many more people make that silent presumption just from seeing the two of you walking around. Before he has a chance to think further, like what does it mean that you’re being mistaken as a couple, you smile and walk to the booth to look at the different design options. And, of course, Miguel follows you.

“You can do matching, or different designs if you wish,” the lady offers. “I can do different eye colors, too. And, just letting you know, my friend in the next booth is selling hair pieces if you’d like to complete the look, señorita [miss].”

“That sounds lovely! Thank you for letting me know,” you answer politely before looking at the lady’s work again.

“Do you want to get it done?” Miguel asks after he thanks her, too.

“I…” you trail off and look at him, wondering if it’s okay.

“If you want to, you should. It’s fun,” Miguel gently says with a small smile. “We have time, too.”

“Alright!” you happily answer before the lady leads you to a chair and begins to ask you what design you’d like.

Meanwhile, Miguel watches from the side, intrigued by the process. He leans on a street lamp, slipping both his hands into his pockets as he quietly listens to you and the lady make small talk while she paints your face. Unbeknownst to him, Miguel looks like a devoted boyfriend and/or husband, waiting on his partner.

To Miguel’s surprise, it doesn’t take long for the lady to finish the makeup, but then again, he realizes that the lady must have a lot of experience and your face is probably one of hundreds she’s painted today alone.

You stand up and look at yourself through a handheld mirror that the lady offers you, admiring and thanking her for the wonderful service before you return the mirror. You then reach into your pocket for money — cash you’ve converted to this dimension’s — to pay the lady, but before you even get a chance to pull it out, Miguel has already handed the woman a bill.

“Miguel —” you start, but Miguel politely shakes his head at you just as the lady, who silently finds the interaction cute, takes the money.

“It’s on me. Keep the change, doña [short for señora/madam],” Miguel says.

“You’re paying for two people, mijo [term of endearment; my son],” the lady says. “Let me give you your change.”

“No, that’s alright, really,” Miguel insists.

“At least, let me paint your face, mijo. You’re not only paying for your girlfriend’s, but for one more person. You might as well.”

“I don’t…” Miguel starts, but trails off. He’s unsure of how to explain to the kind lady that he’s not open to someone touching his face plus feeling sheepish because she’s called you his ‘girlfriend’.

“Your girlfriend can do it, if you want,” the lady offers, picking up on Miguel’s reluctance.

Standing there, your cheeks feel hot. Not once, but twice has this lady said you’re Miguel’s girlfriend. Pushing past that, you glance at Miguel. “I can if you want, Migs,” you offer.

Miguel looks around for a few seconds before nodding. “If that’s okay… Alright.”

Once Miguel agrees, the lady quickly sets things for you on the other side of the table, so she can continue to work if other customers arrive. In a minute or two, you’re sitting in front of Miguel with a makeup brush in your hand. You begin by painting his entire face with white paint, just like yours. While you do so, Miguel stares at the tent’s ceiling, not failing to notice how close the two of you are sitting. You’re so close to each other that your knees are slightly pressed against each other’s.

After a few seconds, Miguel finally looks at you. His gaze travels over your face, taking the opportunity to look at the painted details now that you’re closer. His eyes stop at your own, noting that you chose a light purple color for eye shadow.

“You chose purple,” Miguel states as you paint one of his cheeks, almost done with the white paint.

“Mhm,” you simply answer, eyebrows furrowed. You look away to gather more paint before resuming. “I chose it because of Gabby, since she loved the color lilac.”

Miguel’s lips part in surprise. He hadn’t made that connection, but now that he knows, his chest flutters with ternura [tenderness]. You chose it for Gabby, his daughter. He smiles, even as you work the brush against his cheek again. “That’s so sweet of you,” Miguel says very softly so the lady doesn’t hear.

You smile back, your cheeks warm. “I just thought it would be… Nice. In her honor.”

“It’s more than nice. It’s sweet, Dulzura,” Miguel answers. “It’s a sweet gesture and I like to think that wherever Gabby is… Perhaps here… She’s appreciating it.”

“I’m sure she’s here,” you answer, reassuring Miguel. “With you.”

Smiling, Miguel nods. “With us.”

“With us…” you repeat softly, your chest filling with happiness at the fact that Miguel said ‘with us’.

Once done with the white paint, you switch to black paint and begin to draw the lines on Miguel’s face. You do the cheekbones and teeth first, finding it the easiest to do. Then, you do his nose by drawing an upside down heart at the tip, finding it cute. You draw circles around his eyes next, tracing Miguel’s orbital cavities, before filling them in and adding a decorative outline.

When you reach his forehead, you think about it. You had flowers drawn on yours, but you don’t want to do that for Miguel. You wish to do something different, something more fitting for him, but what? You hum softly before you begin to draw.

You carefully draw a sun in the middle of Miguel’s forehead, with little rays coming from it to indicate that it’s shining. When you’re done with that, you add a few more details above Miguel’s eyebrows. With a smile, you pull back when you’re fully done and grab the handheld mirror so Miguel can see the final result.

“You drew a sun,” Miguel murmurs with a smile when he sees it.

“Yep,” you say proudly. “Solecito [little sun].”

Miguel’s eyes move from the mirror to you, finding a grin on your face.

“What?” you say. “Some time ago, you jokingly said you were everyone’s solecito. ‘A ball of sunshine’, if I recall correctly.”

“It was sarcasm,” Miguel says, chuckling. “I’m not.”

You sigh and put away the makeup brushes. “For them, maybe.”

“Wh-what?” Miguel stutters, caught by surprise.

With a smile, you close the paints. “I’m saying you’re a ball of sunshine. To me.” You look up, closing the last paint. “Solecito.”

“Solecito,” Miguel repeats, his cheeks growing hot. “Little sun.”

“Mi solecito [my little sun],” you say this time, nodding with a warm smile, leaving Miguel speechless when you add the ‘mi’. Your little sun. You’re saying he’s your little sun. You stand up and grab the materials before walking to the lady to return them. “Here’s everything, ma’am. Thank you so much!”

Meanwhile, Miguel’s brain is having a moment. He’s never been given such a nickname by anyone. Ever. And now he’s your little sun — your ball of sunshine. Miguel’s cheeks grow hotter the longer he sits there, your sweet nickname echoing in his mind, leaving him flustered.

Your solecito.

“Are you ready for the live performances?” you ask, standing in front of him, so eager to go while Miguel’s brain is short circuiting.

“Si [yes],” Miguel replies, clearing his throat. “Yes. I’m ready.”

Miguel forces himself to stand up, trying to push past his pleasant surprise from your new nickname for him. You both thank the lady and wish her well with her business before walking away, happy with the service.

Walking again, Miguel continues to push past his feelings when he spots the small business the lady who painted your faces mentioned earlier. His gaze quickly sweeps over the beautiful hair accessories, which reminds him of the lady’s words, about how you can complete your look with something like that. He stops walking, something you quickly notice.

“Miguel?” you ask, wondering what’s up.

“There’s hair accessories,” Miguel states, staring at one of the tables with organized accessories. He flashes you a grin and gestures for you to follow him before he walks to the booth, leaving you wondering.

You slowly reach his side, finding him already talking with the owner.

“We have several options. Are you looking for a specific color?” the woman asks.

“Hmm, Dulzura,” Miguel turns to face you. “Do you want it to match your makeup?”

You smile, realizing. “I suppose it would be appropriate,” you answer.

“Something purple, please,” Miguel politely says before the lady shows the two of you all the options she has.

The lady shows you headbands, bows, and other cute dainty hair accessories — all with the color purple in different shades. You watch with careful attention as she shows you thing after thing, all so beautiful you’re undecided on which one to buy until you turn to Miguel, who lifts a headband from another table to inspect it. Gazing at it more closely, you realize the headband has handmade flowers out of lilac and white ribbons. It also has some hints of pink due to smaller decorations glued to the ribbons for a little dazzle.

“That one, please,” you say with a smile.

“This one?” Miguel asks with a smile, moving it forward so you can get a better look at it.

“That one,” you confirm, finding it beautiful.

“We’ll take this one, then,” Miguel says, looking at the price tag. Before you even have a chance to pull out your money, Miguel, once again, pulls out his wallet and pays.

“Miguel,” you say softly.

“What is it?” Miguel asks, already knowing by the little pout on your lips.

“You can’t keep paying for everything, you know.”

Miguel grins. “It’s my treat, so please let me,” he answers with amusement before he steps closer to you. To your immense surprise, Miguel steps even closer while holding the headband in both hands. He moves them closer to your head carefully and slowly, as if to avoid startling you. And then, to add to your growing surprise, Miguel gently slips the headband on your head.

You’re so caught off guard by Miguel’s brave gesture that you’re not sure if you misheard yourself gasping, but you’re aware of your widened eyes and parted lips.

Happy with the way the headband looks and how it adorns your hair, Miguel steps back with a soft smile. A gentle blush covers not only his cheeks, but also the top of his ears. For a few seconds, Miguel seems to avoid your wide gaze out of shyness. At last, he meets your eyes, still finding surprise on your face. “Does it feel okay?” Miguel asks, slowly and almost reluctantly taking another step back to give you space.

“Ye-yes,” you answer softly, speechless. You clear your throat and smile, trying to shake off the surprise, or at least not make it so obvious that you're shocked. “Yes. It's fine. Perfect, actually,” you continue with a smile.

“Good,” Miguel says with a small grin. “Now your look is complete, Dulzura.”

“Your change, sir,” the business owner says, dropping the money on his hand.

While Miguel thanks the lady, your eyes land on a beautiful bow. It's lilac with little white pearls lining the two tails. You gently pick it up, imagining that little girl with the toothy smile who loved science and fútbol so much wearing it.

In seconds, you imagine what it'd be like if she was here. You can picture Miguel carrying her on his shoulders, both their faces painted for the celebrations. If she was walking, you can imagine her holding his hand as they walk, tugging him to the small businesses to see everything. You even imagine her pulling him to this booth and picking this very bow because it matches her dress.

Smiling, you check the tag before pulling money out. “I'd like to buy this one, please,” you tell the lady once Miguel finishes talking with her.

Miguel turns to look at you, surprised. “You should've told me you liked that one, too. I can pay —” Miguel starts but you hand the money to the lady before he can finish.

“It’s for Gabby and I wish to pay for it,” you gently reply to Miguel.

“Would you like to get this packaged?” the lady offers.

“Please. That way it doesn't get damaged on the way home,” you answer.

“Of course. Are you guys going home to your child? A little girl, maybe?” the woman asks the two of you with a smile, making another innocent assumption that you both have a daughter.

“I…” you trail off before you start to shake your head.

“My daughter — she — she's no longer with us,” Miguel explains gently, though not explaining that Gabby is just his daughter.

The lady's face softens when she hears that. “Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss,” she replies full of sincerity. She closes the small box and hands it to you, your money on top. “It's on the house, for your little girl.”

Both Miguel and you decline politely at the same time, but the lady gently pushes the box into your hands.

“Please. As a gift,” she insists, still pushing the box into your hands.

You accept it hesitantly, only to not come off as rude. You pick up the money bill and offer it again. “Please-”

“No, no. Please take it. For your daughter,” the lady continues, stepping back. “I want you to. Accept it as a Día de Los Muertos gift. I hope your little one enjoys it.”

You sigh softly and lower your hand. “Thank you so much,” you reply, holding the box carefully.

“Gracias, doña. You didn’t have to, but thank you,” Miguel says after you, sincerely thanking the lady.

“Of course, jovenes [young people; youths]. Please take care and enjoy the celebrations. Have a great night,” the woman says, wishing you well before another customer approaches the booth.

Miguel and you walk away and continue on your way to watch some of the live performances, holding the box closer to you to make sure the bow doesn’t get damaged somehow.

“That was so nice of her,” you say softly as you both reach the center of the downtown, where there’s already a lot of people waiting.

“It was,” Miguel answers, agreeing. “It was a kind gesture. Hers and yours,” Miguel continues. “I appreciate you trying to buy it for Gabby. I’m certain she would’ve loved it.” Miguel smiles at that, knowing it’s true.

You grin. “I was thinking about her wearing it with a matching dress.”

Miguel’s smile softens, imagining his daughter eager to wear her bow with a matching dress. It brings a warmth to his chest. “Thank you, Dulzura. She would’ve definitely worn it like that. I… I imagine she would’ve wanted me to do her hair in a ponytail to wear it, too.”

You both grow quiet, thinking about that vision until the live performances begin. With interest and enthusiasm, Miguel and you watch lovely performances by amazing artists, including a mariachi band, who sing some of the most iconic songs to Mexico and talented ballet folk dancers donning beautiful and authentic attires among other great presentations that keep the spirit for the celebrations high.

Towards the end, Miguel and you eventually decide to go home, but not before you run into an elderly couple who you both overhear quietly talking about not having enough money to buy food from one of the food trucks.

“Tenemos comida en la casa, mi amor [we have food at home, my love],” the elderly man said. “Maybe in a few weeks we can buy the ingredients and make this meal ourselves. We can save for it.”

“You’re right, Balby. We should go home now,” his wife answered.

Hearing that, neither Miguel nor you could simply walk away. So, you bought the couple dinner and even gave them extra money for food. You’re not sure how much it was in total, but Miguel gave them plenty and you gave them what you converted a few days ago. Knowing they’ll be enjoying a great dinner, Miguel and you wish them a good night before you walk away, wanting to go home to complete the ofrenda and have dinner.

While you both walk away, side by side as always, the elderly couple watch you from their seats.

“So you were right, mi amor,” the man says with a grin.

“I always am, Balby,” the woman answers with satisfaction. “Those two have pure and courageous hearts. And they’re meant to be together.”

“I cannot deny it,” the man says. “Even I can see that. However will we pay them for their kindness tonight?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the woman says, watching the two figures fade into the crowd.

“How about a wager, mi amor?”

“No wagers tonight!” the woman replies before they both disappear, invisible to everyone else, to pass on the kindness Miguel and you gave to them.

[Characters from The Book of Life film; La Muerte and Xibalba (Balby)]

It takes less than half an hour before you reach the penthouse, and upon arrival, Miguel and you change into lounging clothes before heading to the kitchen to reheat the food. In the meantime, Miguel also makes pancakes with chocolate chips for Gabby, wanting those to be freshly made.

Once everything is ready, the food is offered.

Plates with tamales and pink conchas are placed. Bowls with delicious pozole, too. A fresh batch of chocolate chip pancakes is set in front of Gabby’s photograph. Apples and oranges are placed for Conchata and strawberries for Gabby. The various kinds of candy you placed on a tray earlier are distributed between Gabby and Gabriel, which include Paletas Payaso, Canel’s gum, and Pulparindos. And of course, Miguel didn’t forget his loved ones’ favorite drinks like the Jarritos and Chocomilk for Gabby.

Your parents, uncle Ben and Aunt May, and Peter had their favorite foods and drinks served, too.

To complete the ofrenda, Miguel places other offerings for his loved ones. He begins by putting a few things for his mom and his wife. When he’s done with their portions of the ofrenda, he moves to Gabriel’s part. Miguel smiles at his brother’s photo before he gently pulls out Gabriel’s green scarf from his pocket, placing it on the lower level in front of the photograph, offering it.

At last, there’s the youngest O’Hara, Gabby. Like previous years, Miguel places dolls for her, from a scientist to a soccer player and a few other toys. He offers a few new books because she loved to read, books he bought a few days ago with you at his side. From the bag in which he stored everything, he also pulls out a soccer ball. It was a must, of course. And finally, Miguel places her guitar, too, hoping that wherever Gabby is, she can enjoy her beloved guitar.

“I almost forgot,” you say softly, walking closer with the packaged bow. You offer it to Miguel, so he can place it, but Miguel shakes his head.

“You place it,” he replies. “I know you were going to buy it for her, so you should do it. It’s alright if you do so.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, not wanting to push boundaries.

“I’m sure, truly,” Miguel reassures you with a small smile, one you return.

With a nod, you open the box and pull the bow out, admiring it for a few seconds and thinking once more about a different timeline in which Gabriella was here, physically. You place it between the two dolls, silently hoping that Gabby likes it. You step back to look at the fully finished ofrenda. It took some time and love, but it’s completed at last and it’s so beautiful.

Both Miguel and you stand in silence, admiring it. The silence is a comfortable one, not out of grief despite the several photos in display of loved ones physically gone. It’s a silence of comfort and hope that those who have left too soon and unexpectedly come home, even if just for a few hours to share a meal with their living loved ones once more.

Miguel’s eyes trace every single photo in silence. He feels at peace, something he didn’t feel three years ago. There was too much pain, too much heartbreak. And, too much loneliness, even if he didn’t fully admit it to himself back then. Yet, three years later, Miguel stands in his penthouse — same one that felt so incredibly void and cold before, but now feels like home.

Home.

Miguel turns to face you. Things are different now. There’s less pain, less heartbreak. He’s learned better ways to manage his feelings, too, that’s for sure. Even better, there’s no more loneliness. With a soft sigh, Miguel finally breaks the silence. “Dinner?” he simply says, watching the way you turn to look at him with your face still painted, much like his.

“That sounds good. I’m actually starving,” you confess with a grin.

“It’s all that walking,” Miguel answers before he gestures for the two of you to return to the kitchen for food.

Due to the celebrations, Miguel and you go back to the living room with plates containing food to have dinner with your loved ones. You enjoy the food over conversation regarding the wonderful performances.

Not surprisingly, Lyla shows up halfway through dinner to play music for the two of you. She also takes the opportunity to sneakily take pictures for her secret, or not so secret, folder of digital content before disappearing again.

Eventually, Miguel and you take off the makeup before returning to the kitchen for what feels like the hundredth time to prepare café de olla and arroz con leche specifically for Gabby. When all is done, more than two mugs are set on one of the kitchen counters to pour coffee into them. Together, the two of you carry the mugs to the ofrenda, placing one mug for everyone except Gabby.

“Para ti no, mija,” Miguel tenderly states with a smile on his lips. He places the mug you gifted him for Father’s Day earlier this year, the one with the two bees, filled with arroz con leche and topped with a generous amount of cinnamon powder with the rest of her food. “Estás muy chiquita para tomar café todavía, but I made your favorite instead.” Taking a step back, Miguel’s eyes soften when he looks at his daughter’s photograph. If only she were here, Miguel thinks, before he settles down on the floor with you in front of the ofrenda. He picks up his mug with coffee and takes a drink, the music from earlier still playing thanks to Lyla who left it on. “Thank you,” Miguel suddenly says, turning to look at you. “For joining me tonight and participating in the tradition… For allowing your family to join mine.”

You hum and offer him a smile, holding your mug in both hands. “No, thank you… Solecito,” you reply, using that nickname again. “For allowing me to be part of it again and for inviting my family into your ofrenda. It means so much to me,” you continue. “So, thank you.”

“Siempre,” Miguel whispers, his heart skipping a beat when he hears the new sweet nickname you’ve given him. “Always… But, seriously… Thank you for being here with me again. For accepting my offer.” Miguel’s eyes meet yours, his gaze tender. He knows that his invitation for your family to join the family ofrenda might have been too much — too personal — even for best friends, but still, Miguel couldn’t help himself from making it. He turns to look at the ofrenda again, noting how big it turned out with your family being part of it. After a few seconds, Miguel turns to face you again. “Thank you.”

You smile sweetly and nod, knowing what Miguel means. Having your family join the ofrenda was certainly a personal gesture, a much more intimate one than previous ones simply because it’s about family, and it’s a gesture you appreciate so much. “Always,” you whisper back.

Much, much later, you lean back on the couch with heavy eyes. It’s late at night, about three in the morning now. Miguel and you have spent the last few hours just talking and drinking café de olla. You were feeling alert, but all of a sudden, you’re hit with a tranquility, one that seems to caress you into a sleep. You lean into it for a few seconds, closing your eyes and feeling a warmth surround — embrace — you.

Feeling the same, Miguel’s crimson eyes flutter, but he fights the sleep. Or, tries to, anyway. He glances at you, remembering your meeting with Osborn earlier today. He thinks about the hug you two shared, pondering for a bit before he finally speaks. “Dulzura?” he whispers, not sure if you’re asleep already.

“Hmm?” you sleepily respond, your eyes fluttering just to look at him.

Miguel’s lips quirk up at the sight. You look so cute when you’re sleepy. “I was just thinking about how you said your meeting with Harry was awkward at first because he went straight for the hug,” he says slowly.

“Mhm, it was,” you confirm.

“Did the hug feel awkward, too?” Miguel asks, seeing you’re more asleep than awake now.

You yawn softly, covering your mouth, and nod. “It was. It felt weird,” you respond too softly.

Miguel hums as a response, thinking. He feels something in his chest again, something he didn’t register earlier. Envy, perhaps? Envy that Harry Osborn who has only been in your life for a few months now, if even that, has embraced you before he has, even if it was awkward.

He sighs and rubs his eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s even feeling like that. It’s silly.

Right?

On top of that, Miguel also feels a bit of shame and disappointment in himself. “I’m sorry,” Miguel sleepily murmurs to you.

“What — For what?” you ask, Miguel’s words waking you up a bit.

“For… I still haven’t — You know. I haven’t embraced you yet,” Miguel replies quietly, disappointment and shame laced in his tone.

“Miguel,” you start gently. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for that, you know that. This isn’t a race. It’s a healing journey, and everyone needs their own pace to heal from their grief and trauma. You’re going at your pace and therefore, honoring your boundaries and yourself, which is so important. That’s all that matters to me.” You offer him a reassuring smile before continuing. “That’s not to say, I don’t wish to… One day have the opportunity to experience that — a hug from you, but everything at its due time, okay?” you murmur softly, as if there were other people in the room.

Miguel nods, reassured by your words and gentle reminder. “Thank you, Dulzura. I appreciate it…” he answers, feeling better. You’re always so understanding of him and his boundaries. After a few seconds, he continues. “One of these days,” Miguel tells you softly, sounding like a promise he fully intends on fulfilling.

“One of these days,” you repeat gently, looking forward to the day.

You both think about it — about the day in which Miguel will be open to that kind of physical touch. You think about what it’d feel like, to hold each other close. To learn what it's like to be in each other's arms.

When that day comes, Miguel knows he will hug you close and remember what it feels like to hug someone after so many years of going without a single embrace.

With that in mind, you both admire the ofrenda again. It somehow looks even more beautiful now in the dark living room with the candles’ dancing flames. It almost feels like they're waving at the two of you.

Still looking at the ofrenda, Miguel wonders if there’s a chance that both your relatives are here tonight. If they made it. He hopes they did and that they enjoyed the food and belongings that were offered to them.

As the minutes tick by, that wave of sleep rolls over you again and instead of fighting it, Miguel and you surrender to it this time. There’s a warmth that reaches and embraces you both. It’s so familiar neither of you can help yourselves from leaning into it like a child leans into their parents’ warmth for safety and comfort.

The last thing you both hear is static coming from the speakers from which music was just now playing. A soft, sad guitar begins to play, but you’re both asleep already — lulled by a warm, gentle, and familiar energy not visible to the human eye, but always around.

Remember me

Though I have to say goodbye

Recuérdame…

Previous ⋅ ♡ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ⋅ Next

A/N: Hiiiiiiii!! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter 🥺 Ever since last year, I wanted to write a short chapter for Día de Muertos, but alas, I didn't get the chance to, so I couldn't miss it this year!

Guys... I was giggling and kicking my feet when MIGUEL PUT THE HEADBAND ON OUR HEADS RAHHHHHHHHHHH AND THEN THE FACT HE FELT A BIT JEALOUS OVER HARRY HUGGING US??? (forgive me for screaming but !!!) and then the fact he's thinking more about it -- about hugging us!! 🥹

Also, don't mind the direct reference to The Book of Life. I was working on this chapter Thursday and listening to the official soundtrack for it because it's genuinely one of my fav movies ever, which I plan on watching tonight, and then the idea popped in my head to include La Muerte and Xibalba somehow and well... I did it. 😌

Also, what do we think about Harry? I was cringing while writing that part because they're so awkward!😭😭 But anyway, what do we think? 🤔 Side note, I was fighting the urge to make Felix a hot old man, I'm ngl 😔(I'm still imagining him to be hot, I'm sorry).

Ok, I think that's all and I must go now because my siblings are bothering me to help them with something. I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, show it some love! Take care everyone, and happy November! 💖

Alondra❤️

p.s. I haven't forgotten about chapter 20's comments and reblogs. I'm sorry for how long it's taken me to reply to them. I got behind because of the three chapters I dropped 3 weeks ago, but I promise I'll get to them this upcoming week!! Thank you so much for the amazing love and support as always!! I love you guys 💖💖🥹

Credits: Gif by @/halloween-pumpkin-queen. Purple dividers by @/thecutestgrotto and green divider by @/vysleix

Taglist:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp

@rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj

@taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner @geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii @nina-from-317

@kavimoo

[fangsandfeels]

Playing Veilguard and making it everyone's problem

I am going to rant, and I will rant a lot, and there will be spoilers, so if you're not afraid of them and the game criticism, buckle up.

Elves and their gods

I am absolutely fucking livid about how Veilguard handles the Dalish and elves in general. The events of Trespasser made it clear that the elves started flocking over to Solas, including the elves working for the Inquisition:

After the events at the Winter Palace, elves left the Inquisition under mysterious circumstances, as did elven servants across Thedas. None could say where they went, but those who believed the Inquisitor's story about Fen'Harel wondered just how large the Dread Wolf's forces were... and what the ancient elven rebel had planned.

Solas had multiple spies working for him during Trespasser, and If I remember correctly, there was even a note, left by one of the elves - they were anticipating the great change and the return of the elven glory. Anyways, the established fact is that: elves learned that the stories about their gods were true and one of them now was going to restore the world as it used to be. At least, this is how they interpreted it (maybe, this is the version Solas didn't debunk) and so they started following him.

You might think, the Inquisitor and their allies are going to have a huge problem with breaking it to elves that their chosen leader isn't going to make things better and that their gods don't love them. Especially, if the Inquisitor is a human or anyone who isn't an elf. You'd imagine any attempts will end in failure because of course elves aren't going to listen to outsiders trying to explain their own culture and gods to them. You'd imagine that their trauma caused by centuries of oppression and discrimination will make it impossible for the Inquisitor and anyone else to make them see the truth.

You'd assume anyone who tries to find and stop Solas will be sabotaged every step of the way, feeling themselves horrible for having to clash with people desperate for a chance of a life without injustice - even if it means burning the rest of the world down.

You'd imagine that they will only change their mind if/when they see the harm done by Solas' actions and get to witness their gods true intentions by themselves - which would lead to a massive crisis of faith and schisms happening between elven tribes and groups.

You'd imagine will get all this incredible drama in the Veilguard, with elves initially resisting the group's attempts to stop Solas, then trying to pull themselves together after the revelation. You'd assume there will be zealous groups doubting Solas (because the Dreadwolf is a liar and a deceiver) and intending to use him to actually free the elven gods. You'd think this is how actually some of them get out.

But, NOPE. Not only Solas ends up working alone, with none of his followers throwing themselves at Rook and the party to buy him time, but also all elves now hate Solas because...Varric said so?

You meet a group of Veil Jumpers (elves devoted to exploring their ancient culture and history, learning more about their gods and reclaiming their heritage) and their leader instantly calls Solas an asshole. Based on WHAT?

I get it, Varric had met them before and told them that Solas was Fen'Harel...

(needless to say if you expect players to find and read other media in order to make sense of the events in the game, you are doing something wrong)

...but why were they so fucking calm about it, instantly eating up the "yep, he's bad" version? Even if the Dread Wolf is vilified in the Dalish mythology, wouldn't they be curious about what that means? Wouldn't they have gotten tempted or excited by the implication that other gods exist too? They weren't told the full story - why the fuck did they instantly accept the "Solas is an asshole" narrative? Especially when Solas comes with a promise of a world for the elves like it was meant to be?

WHY?

The Veilguard has no response for that. I guess, Dalish never cared about their history and traditions, and city elves were dandy about Alienages and oppression, so they easily believed some randos over a literal god promising a new, better world.

I don't even play Dalish, but I love their plotline and arcs - and I was bracing myself for some downright painful choices and conflicts during the next Dragon Age. But it felt like the writers couldn't be bothered with developing such a nuanced narrative, so they just waved it all down with "Nah, elves are chill now and they never really cared about their gods in the first place".

[uriswhumpchamber]

I'm here to bring y'all some living doll whumpee propaganda - and I mean living doll, not conditioned whumpee who thinks of themself as an object (those are good but y'all write them better than me).

And I do mean propaganda.

No mess, no proof of someone living having been hurt. Blood splattered means violence happened, but... What is a bit of broken porcelain, or whatever other material left on the floor, if not something to just sweep away and put with the trash?

No chance at salvation. Who would try to save Whumpee, after all? It's not like they're an actual, living, thinking being - yes, anyone else in their situation could (arguably, but in every setting there's at least one revolutionary) be argued as a person, someone could want to save them. But Whumpee is a plaything. Nobody will come for them.

Being made for someone else. Being made, their purpose defined from the start, whatever it may be. Specially good when that purpose is "take a beating without dying or breaking that much". Specially good when it very much isn't, but that's what happens anyway - with Whumpee not being able to even expect it, no matter how clear the signs, because that's just not how it's supposed to be.

Failing at that purpose, when it's the second - because now they're in pain, now they're suffering, and so it doesn't matter anymore what they were meant to do - they can't. And who- what even are they, at that point?

No chance for adaptation. Whumpee isn't a living being, after all: they can't get used to pain, to overstimulation, to discomfort, to stress. They can't grow around things, can't have their body change to save them, in whatever little ways a living being can make themselves survive - no scar tissue, no numbing of the feelings when it gets too much. Whatever happens, they can only take it - and keep taking it, their body responding in the same exact way each time.

The way conditioning works for a being that's meant to be obedient. It's no longer a matter of Whumpee breaking down and becoming obedient, it's a matter of them refusing to be reprogrammed to Whumper's whims - even if everything in their brain is trying to cave in.

The chance for dehumanization to hit even harder. After all, if Whumpee believes themself to be a person, in whatever way "person" can be defined to include them, then what happens when they're shown just how different they are to a real person? What happens when Whumper decides to correct them, no matter what it takes?

[sass-ruby]

Okay so um, I'm gonna be talking about these two episodes today! (Prepare BECAUSE OH MY GOSH.)

Alright, we'll start with the first one. Can I just say that, moon absolutely angered me so much. Moon, NO ONE IS ASKING YOU FOR AN EMOTIONAL SPEECH NOR ANYTHING. It's the fact that you COMPLETELY ignored sun, didn't even bother to check up on him, and then went to work in your lab to find a solution?? Looks like history is repeating itself. But.. why? Why is the same thing repeating again? WELL I HAVE A THEORY! Sun's gonna die, someway, somehow and that's gonna be the only way moon realizes. I think this because of solar specifically. When solar heard that moon won't check up on sun, he sounded absolutely disgusted. Keep in mind, solar lived in HIS SUN'S head. That sun ALSO had a moon, and I bet solar has watched the same exact thing happen. And what happened when solar's sun died? Solar's moon went insane! Imagine the guilt moon would feel, gut wrenching. He probably ALREADY feels guilty, but would rather let it consume him whole than to comfort sun or AT THE VERY LEAST HUG HIM

Sun was there with moon during moon's (valid) breakdown, but moon being there for sun? NOOO, OF COURSE NOT!

Also if moon's gonna start with the "I'm not good with emotions" stuff, I'll lose it. YOU HAVE PROVEN IN OTHER VIDEOS THAT YOU CAN, MOON. Neptor's funeral, OR HELL WHEN THE WHOLE FINDING OUT DAZZLE'S SECRET THING HAPPENED. He listened about every kid, comforted, reassured, he was there. Although, now he's just ignoring sun. I think it's because he's a coward. And by a coward, I mean that he's too scared he'll say something wrong or make it worse, because the word is about NEXUS, someone who moon HATES, though sun loves nexus, evil or not, he was still his brother.

Moon doesn't understand that, he's jealous most likely. It reminds me so much of when nexus wasn't insane.. he was bad talking moon, and when moon returned? Moon was bad talking nexus. Both didn't want to be like each other, they DESPISE each other, calling each other knock off's (okay, THAT PART WAS KINDA FUNNY I'M SORRY.)

But.. where is sun in all of this? He missed each one. He loved each one. He loved them. He still loves them.

But they BOTH didn't understand how their words hurt sun. They're so similar in some ways, it's absurd. AND THEY DON'T EVEN REALIZE IT. Reminds me of the song "over and over" by Rio Romeo.

If sun dying is the only way for moon to realize, I'll be willing to accept it even if it is quite sad. It's disappointing, truly.

Monty's and lunar's reaction, I expected honestly. By the way, lunar-, "he's doing worse than I thought he would be.." ARE YOU STUPID, HE JUST KILLED HIS EX BROTHER?? Didn't you go through the same damn thing too? As for monty, not even surprised one bit. He's always been like that, I never really liked him, but oh well.

And THANK YOU SOLAR FOR BEING THE ONLY SANE PERSON EXCEPT MAYBE EARTH BECAUSE GOSH THIS SHOW AIN'T FOCUSING ON SUN'S HEALTH MUCH.

The urge to b*tch slap almost everyone.

I genuinely want sun to have a breakdown, he chose moon, but moon didn't bother to even check up on him.

Gosh.

------------------------------

ANYWAYS, TODAY'S EPISODE!

Just gonna add this picture again, because why not

Wow- genuinely just wow- that was-.. wow

So dark sun DID end up doing something. I must've missed something in the past video, but interesting..

I heard a person say, I forgot who it was but that SUN was the key of this whole plan

He killed nexus, he pulled the trigger and made a choice which means.. that way other suns also made choices instead of not acting

I have NO idea how sun managed to make that happen, BUT THE THEORY MAKES SENSE

In a way, I was right- he IS trying to stop the dimensional abuse of suns by them killing their own moon, I SUCK AT EXPLAINING

if anyone can explain this theory better than me, PLEASE DO.

I felt so bad for the sun in this dimension. Poor thing. Sounded scared and terrified, while repeating "I hate you", while crying and also while bashing HIS moon's head with a barrel

I wanted to hug him QwQ poor baby.. we need a name for him

ALSO HE'S MY CHILD NOW. I'M ADOPTING HIM.

Moon tried his best to keep that sun at peace, WHICH BRINGS ME BACK TO THE SAME TOPIC, WHY DOES HE HELP EVERYONE EXCEPT HIS SUN

I get it was a different situation BUT CMON.

I suppose I already ranted enough about that part, though

I would add more but I'm INCREDIBLY tired and all.. so um yeah-

[lfcgirlie866]

The Girl Who Broke A Million Hearts ~ Jude Bellingham x oc

Ok so you guys really surprised me by voting for this fic the most in the poll! I was expecting this to be the least popular option tbh, and I feel like it's really badly written 😭 I apologise in advance if it is!

Summary: 'I know the baby in your belly isn't mine, but if you let me, then I'll love her like she is'

Tropes: Childhood friends, not realising their feelings until it's (maybe) too late, pregnancy, found family

Warnings: fmc mentions death of a parent, there may be smut eventually in the story but idk yet

Prologue

As I sit outside in the mild Spanish night air, looking out across the horizon, I simultaneously wish for the darkness to end and also for the day to never come. The light means I won't be left alone with my thoughts anymore, but it also means that I have to leave Madrid behind and book a flight back to England. It means I have to leave Jude and face up to what a disaster my life has become in the last week.

How could it have all gone so wrong so quickly?

Last week, I was engaged to the man I thought I would be with forever, six months pregnant with his baby, too. I thought I knew where my life was going.

Now I'm just pregnant and alone. I don't have a home to go back to. No family. Nothing. No one.

I'm slowly spiralling, worrying about what the hell I'm supposed to do next and regretting almost every decision I've ever made.

You're a failure, Sapphy. Your mum would be so disappointed in you, I think to myself, trying to hold back a sob. You're a loser. You're too weak to do what she did and raise a baby alone.

Maybe I should just suck it up and go back to my ex, Aiden. Give in and do what he wanted me to; Move halfway across the world with him. At least then I'd have a home again

But you wouldn't be happy, Saph. Not there, and not with him. Not after everything that's happened. After what he said...

'You'd do it for him, though. Wouldn't you?'

And the answer has been plaguing my thoughts ever since.

"Jeeze, Saph. It's almost 4AM. What 'er you doing out here?"

Jude's familiar voice startles me out of my thoughts, almost like I'd summoned him here with them. I turn around and drink him in. Lit only by the lights in the pool beside me, he looks just as beautiful as he always does as he walks over to where I'm sitting, and my stomach twists and turns at the mix of emotions he churns up.

Jude Bellingham. The boy I've known since he was eight, the one I grew up alongside of, the one who I watched become a world-class footballer right before my eyes. He is quite possibly the sweetest human on this planet, and I'll never, ever forget the truly heartfelt words he spoke at my mum's funeral. He means everything to me, but he's always just been a friend. Always. There was never a time when it could have been more. At least, it never crossed my mind at the time anyway.

But since Aiden said those words to me, I can't help looking at Jude differently. I wish I could stop, but now that I've seen the light, I don't think I can ever go back.

When his brother called me and asked if I wanted to fly out and watch Jude's game yesterday, I didn't hesitate. I jumped on that plane and then screamed my heart out watching him play. I forgot all the bad stuff for a while, but being in his home just brought it all back and I started drowning in my thoughts again.

"Jobe said he was worried about you yesterday. Now I am too, Saph." He says quietly, his fingers lightly stroking down my back, making me shiver.

I should tell him what's happened. I know I should, but at the same time, how can I?

He's THE Jude Bellingham. He's on top of the fucking world right now. I can't drag him down from that. I can't burden him with my own issues. These are my problems, I'm the one who has to deal with them. And, if I tell him I left my fiancé then he's going to want to know why. I'd have to tell him that I've become one of those girls, someone I never ever wanted to be; Just one of the millions who've fallen for him.

Some kind of dam shatters inside of me and as hard as I try, I can't hold it all back any longer. The story comes pouring out with a mixture of sobs and tears as he holds me tightly in his arms.

But there's one thing I don't mention: the fact that I might now have feelings for him, and maybe I always have done.

~~~~♡♡♡♡~~~~☆☆☆☆~~~~♡♡♡♡~~~~

A/n: Ahhh I'm so scared to see what you guys think of this 🫣 This is definitely just an introduction and the story will go back and explain how they met/ became friends etc etc.

If you're interested in reading more then please let me know ❤️

[derww]

trick or treat !!! Ɛ==3 ໒・ﻌ・७

The peaceful arc begins just terribly for Zam: he walks around the castle in a panic, obsessed with the idea that he is looking for him, when a peson, whom he would least like to see right now, falls on his head.

 

He's not even surprised that Mapicc is covered in blood from head to toe, as if he just dismembered someone – he recoils, frantically trying to figure out how he got here in the first place – was he really there all the time?-

 

Mapicc looks at him wearily and dusts himself off like a dog, splattering the floor with blood now too. Well, I'm going to have to get rid of my corpses here today anyway, so what's the difference, Zam thinks distantly. He is completely at a loss, but his body moves on its own, preparing potions and hiding behind a shield. He's staring at Mapicc like he's a rabid animal, trying to find the right moment to bolt away. But where-this is his holy land-is he just going to leave it to be torn apart-

 

Mapicc snorts and looks around warily. Comes to some conclusion. Nods.

 

– Well, this was unexpected, – he sums up, – it seems like atleast today I'm actually Rick. What the fuck.

 

– What the fuck are you talking about? – Zam exclaims in dismay. Mapicc shakes his head irritably.

 

– There's no time for this, – he mutters, grabbing a bow in his hand, and–hey, why does he have harming arrows? Zam prepares to cover himself and run, but Mapicc turns around and, pulling the bowstring, shoots somewhere into the snowy wasteland and grins. And then he turns back to Zam:

 

– You. You're not leaving, no matter what happens? – he asks heavily.

 

– Im gonna stand my ground. This is my castle, my holy place, and I will not let you destroy it.

 

Mapicc rolls his eyes. He looks annoyed.

 

— Okay. Okay. Fuck it. I've worked with worse. We only have a few minutes to prepare. Don't you have any potions? 

 

And-what's going on anyway? Trying to find an answer to at least something, Zam glances at where Mapicc shot and sees a figure chained in a netherite. Its Mapicc. A harming arrow is embedded in the frozen ground right in front of him.

 

– Are there two of you? – completely discouraged, he asks, trying to find at least some clear explanation, - what the fuck is-

 

– Later,– Mapicc-from-the-castle cuts off, grabs his arm, and drags him aside. 

 

Everything falls out of his hands as expected, but in the end they leave the missing potions to brew, and he comes to his senses, crafts golden apples, and hands half of this Mapicc. He grunts, but accepts them, and only after that, looking out the window, stops for a second.

 

– Anyway, – he says tensely, – I'm from season five. I have a lot to do, but I'm going to stop him first.

 

It's too hard to believe; it sounds like an obvious trap, but right now he can only play along.

 

– And you realized there that you were wrong? – he clarifies carefully. 

 

– Oh, no, – Mapicc sounds surprised, – I was absolutely in my right; you fucked up a big back then. But I don't care what that idiot wants right now. You're not going to die here. Period.

[justdrawlynn11]

MaSm au: Seeds

Premise: With Sunblock and Moonstone being bird esc origins, Sun discovers that he can eat seeds. They become something he likes to snack on and one day he offers Moon some. This will create an outcome neither of them expected…

In their little house on a hill because Sun can’t sleep at any lower of an elevation, Moon’s crafted and placed a few spare beds in case Foxford decided to join him and Sun up there, or for backups in case one got destroyed. They have yet to create separate bedrooms but at least have their own sections of the open house to sleep in.

Moon is currently crafting more things to expand the house, doors, planks, glass. Sun is observing from over Moon’s shoulder, snacking on something.

Moon: “Sun stop watching me over my shoulder while I craft”

Sun: “Mmm no I think I’m fine”

Sun starts eating more of his snacks. Moon notices that Sun isn’t eating a normal food item.

Moon: “Whaa-what are you even eating right now”

Sun: “OH- I discovered I can eat seeds!”

Moon: “Youcanwhatnow?-”

Sun: “I can eat seeds! They taste really good too! You wanna try some?”

Sun said this with a big smile on his face, Moon could’ve sworn Sun was grouchy just earlier today over him and Foxford’s antics.

Sun hands Moon some seeds. Moon looked at the seeds then back to Sun.

Moon: “Sun I don’t think-”

Sun: “Just tryyyy it! They taste great!”

As Sun continues to eat the seeds, Moon thinks he notices red heart shaped effects emitting from Sun. He must just be seeing things..

Moon: “Okayyyyy fineee.. but just a few!”

Sun, in a light and confident chuckle: “Alright alright-”

Moon eats a seed, his eyes widen as they’re not as bad as he thought. He continues to eat more.

Moon: “Huh, they ARE good!”

Sun: “See? I told you!”

He continues eating them until he runs out. He then turns towards Sun.

Moon: “Can I get some more Sun?”

Sun: “I thought you said ‘just a few’”

Moon: “Oh be quiet-”

Sun: “Alright, here you go Moon!”

Sun gives Moon more seeds, Moon accepts and eats them with rising joy. Sun seemed less annoying, more relaxed to Moon… Moon felt like all of his problems disappeared in an instant and all he needed to do was just hang out with Sun a little.

Later…

It was getting late, the sun was going to set in a few minutes, Moon heard a knock to the door and went to go answer it.

Moon: “Hey Foxy, what brings you here?-”

Foxford: “Hey you two, just wanted to remind you both that it’s getting late and… is- is something happening?-”

Foxford noticed something was different. Moon was relaxed and there were some effects floating around him.

Moon: “What do you mean?”

Foxford: “Ya look like you woke up from a nap with how relaxed you look and- uhh… What’s with those floating hearts around you?”

Moon: “Huh, yeah those are there. It doesn’t seem like anything’s wrong with them so I’m sure it’s fineeee-”

Moon: “Oh yeah- Sun figured out we could eat seeds and they taste GREAT! I’d offer you some but I don’t got any more on me-”

Foxford: “Not that I’d really want any anyway-”

Moon: “Wait… Why are you here again…?”

Foxford: “OH- Right- I just wanted to remind you two that we’re skipping the night tonight, so don’t forget to go to sleep when night comes here in a moment-”

Moon: “Ohhhhh… right-right- we won’t forget, we promise. Right Sun?”

Moon turns to Sun, who is lying in his bed and eating some seeds. He was obviously starting to get tired himself.

When Foxford looked over it seemed as though Sun ALSO had these weird hearts surrounding him, but Sun also looked relaxed in a way he wasn’t used to seeing.

Sun: “Oh heyyy Foxford…. yeah we promise…. I’m already… *yawn* …starting to get tired.. see you tomorrow...”

[1/3 players are resting]

Moon: “Andddd great he’s out-”

Foxford: “Yep-”

Moon: “Want to stay here for the night? We have a spare bed out in case you wanted to-”

Foxford: “Nonono- I’m fine, my house is just down the bottom of the hill anyways- I’ll make it.”

Moon: “Alright then Foxy, good night to you.”

Foxford: “Good night Moon!”

The door closed. Moon walked over to where Sun’s bed was. He felt relaxed looking at him. Sun looked… content and relaxed… he wished Sun would always be this calm around him…

Moon: “… good night Sun…”

Sun, half asleep and waiting for the other two to sleep: “g’night…. Moon…”

[2/3 players are resting]

Foxford must’ve gotten to bed by now.

Moon walked over to his own bed, across the room from Sun’s. He laid down and proceeded to start the night’s rest for the 3 of them.

[3/3 players are resting]

This is the start of something none of them expect.

The end. For now.

[aedesluminis]

First of all: right back at you 💖!

I'm glad you didn't take it badly, because I didn't mean any harm indeed ^_^. Before replying l just realized that I made a mistake: the literal translation of "interventions" in my mother tongue is also used to define participation in discourses and debates, but not in English. A more appropriate word would have been "contributions".

Now, back to the reply.

The way I read your post, it comes across as: well, they all were evil soldiers making other people suffer, so it's normal and okay for them to try to murder their wives, because one murder more or less does not matter anymore anyway.

Given that English isn't my first language I might have expressed myself in the wrong way, but after rereading my post various times I keep failing to see how you could have grasped from what I said that I believe it's okay and normal for military men to try to murder their wives, because after all they all committed acts that by today's standards are considered atrocities. I sent my previous reblog to some of my friends and they couldn't see the connection either.

My whole point was that it's unfair to make Junot looking so much worse compared to his colleagues, when they were all military men who committed various degree of violence either directly or indirectly. It's not like the other marshals/generals were angels and Junot a degenerate, incompetent spawn of the devil simply because of an episode that could have been altered and exaggerated as it often happens with secondary accounts.

I do not know of any other popular napoleonic general or marshal who tried to kill his wife in a fit of jealousy. Junot seems to be special in that regard.

Previously you used the expression "attempted to murder"; now according to the definition, a murder is the unlawful premeditated killing of one human being by another. If Junot really had planned to kill Laure why didn't he do it before? Why didn't attempt to do it again afterwards? By reading the testimonies, Junot threw a fit, in which he ended up hurting Laure. An inexcusable act I won't ever defend or justify - and no one else should - , but nothing else gives the idea of a premeditated act of killing. Also, there's zero mention of rape.

It's also important to keep in mind that Junot had been suffering from various, serious head wounds since 1796, which again doesn't justify his actions; at most, it can simply explain why he acted in such a violent and inconsiderate way. One might speculate whether he would have done the same hadn't he suffered those injuries.

I do see a difference between atrocities committed indirectly, "on the job", and immediate domestic violence.

Qualitatively there are differences of course, but it's not based on those differences that I expect to see a chart of who among Napoléon's marshals and generals was the most or least virtuous, as I see sometimes happening in historical fandoms whenever the discussion gets more serious.

Virtuous according to whom exactly? To us from the 21th century? A bit unfair to judge, isn't it? Not that we cannot do it, but would it add anything useful to the conversation, provided we are doing a serious one? Virtuous according to 18th century values? Do we really have the whole picture in order to do that? That would basically require to be experts of the 18th century from every point of view. Good luck with that!

Furthermore, I don't think anyone would deny that violence is violence; towards whom it's perpetrated and the means with which it's perpetrated aren't arguments worth mentioning when it comes to serious discussions as your posts give the impression of aiming to.

But had he ever been able to show self-restraint? Had "Sergeant La Tempête" ever tried to learn to discipline himself? Duelling, gambling, drinking, whoring, wasting money and threatening creditors - that's all on Junot personally, all in his responsibility. He could have made better decisions, he also must have been aware of that, but he chose not to. That's why I see it as "evil" rather than "tragic".

Do you know how hard is to discipline oneself, especially if the person in question suffers from addictions - as Junot seemed to - and serious injuries that compromised their brain forever?

Again, I'm not saying that mental illness is a justifications for one's acts, but if we really want to judge someone - like you are doing pretty often with Junot - , a little sympathy would be expected. Otherwise... Let's leave sterile judgement aside, shall we? And with "sterile" I refer to the use of "good" and "evil" adjectives to describe a historical figure, for instance.

the way he over the years more and more lost his sanity and the last bit of self-restraint he may have had at some point, in the fandom somehow seems to be seen as "cute"?

It's not cute, nobody ever said that. At most it could be relatable especially to people from younger generations, who struggle with mental illness.

The only instance in which he gets "cutified" is linked to his relationship with and feelings for Napoléon.

Because, as people who had an alcohol or drug addict with violent tendencies in their family can ascertain, it's not. It's very much not cute. It's very trivial brutality.

Of course it's not, is there anyone here who has ever said the opposite? Because this is what you are claiming here.

About Junot and women: There is one other tale of him "chasing" a young woman during the time he was governor of Illyria but I would agree that at this point he probably cannot be held responsible anymore for the things he did.

"There is one other tale" is a pretty vague statement, yet you accused him of beating and raping women as something customary to him, without providing evidence. No one is saying he shouldn't be held responsible for his actions, but at the same time it's not fair to turn him into a target of harsh judgment based on misinformation, biased assumptions and personal antipathy.

But the additional evidence of the letters exchanged between Metternich and his wife on one hand, and between Metternich and his secret agent in Paris on the other, do indeed validate her claims to a large degree, and they do so independently from Laure's report. In addition, the scandal is mentioned in several actual diaries of the time, though naturally without any details to what happened behind closed doors between Junot, Laure and Lorel Metternich.

Thank you, this is what I wanted to know.

All that being said: I am aware that I'm overly harsh on Junot, especially considering we do not know how his state of mental health was at each point of the timeline. Maybe it's a sort of backlash on my side, because I feel like things in the fandom often get blown way out of proportion: Bessières having a mistress - waaah, cruzify him! Junot trying to kill his wife - oh, how cute! (Exaggerated, of course. I hope I can make myself understood.)

"Maybe it's a sort of backlash on my side, because I feel like things in the fandom often get blown way out of proportion". Uh? What is this supposed to mean? Fandom behaviour isn't an excuse to spread misinformation about a historical figure you don't like.

You accused him of murder, an act which has a specific definition you most likely ignored on purpose, you accused him of rape without evidence, you belittled his military feats as skirmishes, making me wonder if you actually read what other users told you about the topic; you claimed more than once you aren't even interested in military history, because it's boring, so I wonder why you even asked in the first place.

I can totally understand hating a historical figure: I loathe some, but they don't deserve slander and constant bashing in serious discourse (and sometimes even some memes are in bad taste).

How would you feel if someone kept posting about how Eugene Beauharnais was a mediocre lapdog, good only to lick Napoléon's ass?

Lastly, something that has personally been bothering me: can you all stop throwing random rape accusations towards historical characters you are not fond of? I saw that happening with Barras, when there's no evidence in his mémoirs that he was raped by his father and that he raped people of all age including minors, as an anonymous user once claimed. It's vile and disgusting. Stop it. And Barras is among those figures I loathe, so my plea is not based on personal appreciation.

Tl;dr: I'm not fond of uncritical historical figures bashing when the discussion gives the impression of being serious, especially if it's done through misinformation and lies. Nothing personal against you.

[heartslobbf]

heterophobic nanami real

[ID: two screenshots from 'revolutionary girl utena' of nanami and touga standing in the rose garden. nanami imploringly clings to touga, who stands stiffly with his face obscured from the audience. in the first screenshot, nanami says: 'i know i have to accept that you go out with girls.'

in the second screenshot, nanami continues: 'but don't go out with a girl like her!' /end ID]

[thefirstknife]

rip gambit you will be missed 😔

Don't even know what to say tbh.

For those that don't know, the big State of the Game article came out detailing incoming changes and adjustments and all the big stuff. Gambit was mentioned! But at what cost. Basically, they are ceasing any kind of support for Gambit. What we have now is what it is. We will get the Dreaming City map back in TFS and they will add Shadow Legion and Lucent Hive as enemy factions in TFS. That's all.

Full text:

As many of you have noticed, we’ve been quiet on Gambit since last year’s overhaul that launched alongside The Witch Queen. In that revamp, the team made significant changes across five categories in Gambit: core activity fundamentals, Primeval tuning, invasions, ammo economy, and rewards. Unfortunately, these updates didn’t move the needle for player engagement. Although we know our Gambit fans mostly care about new or returning maps, this is an area of the game with lower engagement that would take resources away from more popular parts of the game to shore up.   While we don’t have plans to dedicate more resources to significantly transform Gambit, we do have a few updates planned for the year of The Final Shape. These include porting the Cathedral of Scars map and its beautiful Dreaming City setting into the latest version of Destiny 2, as well as adding the Shadow Legion and Lucent Hive enemy types. 

I don't know how to tell you this Bungie, but the reason "engagement is low" in Gambit is because Gambit sucks. Ever since half of it was removed with DCV, it just sucked. It has no variety, the gameplay is largely busted, it's not sufficiently updated, ammo changes suck, invasion cycle sucks (why is the enemy even getting a portal when their Primeval is at 5% health and the other team is still in mote collecting phase is beyond me), there are no cool armour sets to chase (just look at Iron Banner and Trials stuff, imagine dedicated cosmetics) and finally there are simply no weapons that are worth anything. Both Vanguard and Crucible have more weapons and also adept versions. There is zero reason to go into Gambit without major changes to Gambit. And now with the further changes to how playlists and challenges will work, there will be even less reason to go into Gambit. Observe:

Before then, we’re making Gambit entirely optional to maximize your rewards unless you’re looking for a piece of gear that’s specific to the mode. Gambit will continue to serve as a source of Exotic engrams via weekly challenges, though as we mentioned above, you’ll be able to complete all your weekly challenges in any ritual you’d like starting in Season 22. If you want to stick to Vanguard or Crucible challenges without touching Gambit, now you can.  We’re also reducing the number of Gambit-specific Seasonal Challenges starting in Season 22, so players won’t need to bank motes to be able to earn that big purse of Bright Dust for completing nearly every challenge in the Season. Finally, we’re adding Fireteam Matchmaking to Gambit next Season, which will replace the Freelance node and should result in faster, better matchmaking by combining both Gambit playlists. We’ll keep an eye on reception and player engagement after these additions take place, and we hope you’ll visit ‘ol Drifter next Season to get your hands on his new Void Machine Gun. 

Ngl, but I don't think anyone besides like a total of 6 people will play Gambit next season. The incentive to go in there is completely removed. You won't even have to go in there for pinnacles or for challenges. The Void Machine Gun will not be enough of an incentive because the chance of that gun being better than two recently available craftable Void Machine Guns (Commemoration and Retrofit Escapade) is very low. And besides, once you get it at the end of your first match, you can leave Gambit forever.

This is the feedback loop that just reinforces the idea that people don't like Gambit. And I mean. Who would at this point. I'm pretty sure that if Crucible had stayed the same as it was at the start of Beyond Light, engagement would be low there too. But you know. Crucible has received major updates pretty much every season since with multiple new modes, several Trials overhauls, Iron Banner overhaul, competitive overhaul, new armours and weapons added and YES, even new maps. God forbid even 5% of these resources went into Gambit.

Anyway, this is the whole section about Gambit in 6500 words. It's basically a "you guys aren't playing this so we're doing the bare minimum of keeping it in the game as is, no new work will be done on it ever." Thanks I guess.

And for the record, something I also added while having a rant in my discord, I want to make it clear that I don't want anyone to spiral into a Bungie hate train. Even for this. I understand perfectly well what's the community attitude towards Gambit and what it's been for years now. People just don't like it and they're not incentivised to like it and they're actively encouraged to hate it. Spending resources into a game mode on the hope that maybe you can change people's minds would be insanity. Like, the amount of change Gambit would need to MAYBE start appealing to gamers would be beyond any reasonable time and resources Bungie can put in. And if you could guarantee that people would love and play Gambit then, fine. But you can't. Most likely, even if major changes happened, people would still just do their weekly stuff and bail. It's simply not worth it. In order for people to like it, it needs to be completely and thoroughly overhauled in a way that would need more time and effort than the entire Light subclass overhaul and it's just not a reasonable expectation, nor is it guaranteed to work. So I get it.

I'm still disappointed and annoyed about it because I believe it wasn't given a fair chance at all. I also know how good it can be and how Gambit Prime could've been improved upon over the years if they tried. Instead, it got removed and that was honestly the death sentence for Gambit. It's unfortunate. It's my favourite game mode that could've been so much better was it given even a fraction of attention of Crucible.

I'll still be playing it. You will find me in the Gambit queue waiting for 2 hours to find 7 other lunatics to play with, don't worry about it. But I'm absolutely incredibly sad about them being basically forced to axe the potential of the whole game mode that is incredibly creative and fits with the type of game Destiny is perfectly.

There's other interesting stuff in the article and some upcoming really cool improvements and changes to the game. But if you're a fan of Gambit in any capacity, this is a death certificate for the mode. I suggest coming to terms with it quickly because Bungie changing their minds about this is highly unlikely.

[fisherrprince]

did you hear that the newest movie confirmed kaishin cousins? most people have jumped ship because of it

yeah except I didn’t hear most people jumped ship, I heard most people straight up told gosho no you didn’t LMAO

[skekthesilly]

wel!!!!!! at least he isnt in any pain anymore!!!!!!!!!!! hip hip hooray!!!!!!!!!!!!!! casually crying in the corner

me rn ^

man. he was my favorite.

this is when we find out shit. yap to me swansea. what the fuck is going on here

oh shit. oh she killed herself. oh. she. oh

she was my second favorite. well. well well well. at least shes!!!!! not suffering anymore!!!!!! oh i bet curly saw all of that didnt he

this is really not good for everyone huh

hes laughing. why is he laughing? what is it? what is it, curly? why are you laughing?

"everythings gonna be ok" like omori. ha. ha. haha. thats great. nothings gonna be ok. everyones dying. what is even happening anymore.

we finally see what curly looks like. huzzah. hooray. pathetically throws confetti in the air

so. so did jimmy crash the ship

oh so he really did crash the ship. okay. thats great

oh were carrying curly now. what are we gonna do with him?

birthday party. wow. happy birthday to me. happy birthday. i did it. yes. i am victorious. clap for me.

swansea shot himself. so now jimmy and curly are the only ones alive.

wait wait wait. no. incorrect. incorrect buzzer. jimmy had the gun. so he was probably the one to shoot swansea. yaaaaay. this is great.

oh! we're gonna chop curly up! great!

euuuugh. yub didnt show it but i can imagine it. i can feel it. euuughhhh. this is really awesomesauce

oh theyre eating curly. oh.

in the vent we go

wonderful. that was a great little vent sequence

"this is the start of undertale right here" yeah. lmao

hi swansea. hi gun. guess we really have to kill him now

oh. graveyard. that was a really good transition. but graveyard??? where are we???

woah. were really shooting him now.

yes swansea yap to me

wow. swansea. go off king

you literally are not gonna be able to fix this jimmy i dunno what to tell you

he's really going crazy now. there's eyeballs everywhere.

that is a LOT of eyes

hes just watching tv! like i do! wow!

feast. wow. when do i stop feasting

someday he'll thank you? i dont think so. you cut off his leg.

wow! great puzzle! love this!

walking in space. yuh. uh. yuh wow. wowie kazowie.

take responsibility. i think i get it now.

why is there a horse in there

ah. yes. spider horses.

wow. polle can talk. awesomesauce

0 hours before judgement. minos prime is gonna get you jimmy

curly in cryo? cool. oops pun was not intended

and he dies. jimmy is dead. there he goes. and curly is still alive.

the end. wow

---

so! my final thoughts:

i am numb. i feel numb. i really should have heeded those content warning huh

but anyways! wow. that. mouthwashing was amazing. that. wow.

the story is amazing. im. i got so attached to the characters and then they died and it was like oh my god. like the game fucked with my mood so much but oh my god it was so good. it was made so well. i did not expect to be affected by it so much (i thought it would just be a typical ooooo scarrryyy horror game oooo) but no that shit was DEEp.

and that bittersweet ending too? everyone dead? it really makes everything feel desolate and like. empty. like theres nothing more you can do now. thats it. wow. wow wow wow. this was AMAZING.

ugggghhh jimmy did BADDD things. ouughhh. ouughh i hate thinking about it. especially anya??? like everyone was talking bout how jimmy was an abuser and im thinking back to when he called her babe and like her being pregnant and???? shit man. we hate jimmy. omg.

um. im gonna go cry now. and think a lot. and cry now

live reaction of mouthwashing. right neow. lets go. lets do this. skinless bandaged man here i come!!!!!!!!!!!!!

also why does he not have eyelids. give this man eyelids. goddamn. he needs to blink.

---

who tge fuck. why are you crashing the ship. what are you getting out of this. my god.

anya??? wow. its the woman everyone is talking about. wowie kablowie

i didnt think this would become a mascot horror. lmao. lol. tee hee. stupid ass pony. love em

---

woah. were playing as jimmy???? isnt that the guy everyone hates

[shrikeseams]

When you idly think about Celegorm possibly being most like Nerdanel of all the sons of Feanor, and then you start thinking about Nerdanel getting a post-Darkening moral decay arc all of her own to mirror her son(s)'s.

[scoopstomyahoy]

thinking about a no upside down au steddie fic where steve and eddie run into each other years after moving away from hawkins, and eddie remembers steve and his fall from grace as king, and is kind of intrigued to see what kind of person he is now

and steve doesn’t remember him at all at first, because, look, eddie changed his hair again, and steve’s had a few head injuries (no upside down but i imagine he still went thru some shit with the party and with robin), and he didn’t really think about eddie in high school anyway, and he’s trying to forget about hawkins as much as possible (besides the kiddos, but they’re all moved out for college now, anyway) (obviously he lives with robin)

but steve is different now, happier, more open, flirts with guys, flirts with EDDIE, and eddie….. well, he wants to know more! and he tells steve he knows him from hawkins, and steve’s sunny little smile flickers a little, but he just apologizes for not remembering him and mentions he has some memory problems

and they get to know each other, and eventually as eddie tells him more (and maybe with the help of some yearbooks) steve remembers eddie. and. well. they like getting to know each other. and they like each other. and then they get together

eventually they’ve been together for a while, and eddie thinks he wants to maybe introduce steve to wayne, and he mentions he’s going to go back to hawkins for a long weekend (as he’s done a couple times) and this time he’d like steve to join him

and again steve’s sunny smile flickers a bit, but he says he’d love to meet eddie’s uncle, and… they go to hawkins. and it goes well— meeting wayne, at least, but steve seems a little on edge the whole time they’re there, tense when they drive in, fidgety when they go to the grocery store, et cetera. eddie thinks maybe steve is nervous about staying with the man who raised eddie, which is ridiculous, because wayne LOVES steve.

it’s not til they leave the town altogether that steve relaxes, and eddie realizes it wasn’t “meeting the parents” but rather going back to hawkins. and speaking of meeting the parents, steve didn’t ever bring his own up, even though eddie knew they still lived in hawkins. and the way steve glanced around whenever they went in public, like he was scared of getting recognized

and he asks about it, and steve doesn’t really want to talk about it, but he gives eddie snippets of it. people he wanted to leave behind in hawkins, memories that resurfaced, things he wants to forget

eddie goes back to see wayne sometimes, and the first time he doesn’t know whether to ask steve to come, so he just mentions he’s thinking about going to hawkins for some weekend and steve immediately starts making plans with him as if the invite is implicit. they go back to hawkins several more times, steve still tense and pent up the whole time they’re there

over time steve reveals more and more to eddie. everything that made hawkins hell for him, from the things he himself did in high school to the things people did to him. stuff tommy and carol and billy said to him. some of it is just typical high school bullshit (and oh, the nancy thing.) some of it is the tragedies steve went through, the horrors he had to protect his kids from. the injuries he sustained. more generally the homophobia that permeated the whole town, keeping steve from being himself. the lack of support in the indiana public school system for a high school senior who’s had two concussions and gone through incredible trauma.

his parents. the reason why steve’s mail is addressed to ‘steve buckley’ now, not ‘steve harrington’.

(that doesn’t come out until much, much later, and eddie is kicking himself for ever suggesting steve come back to hawkins.)

eddie, who hardly had an easy time of it in hawkins, is absolutely blown away by what steve had gone through in the same town, right under his nose. the entire persona that steve was trying to leave behind — the cool as a cucumber, unaffected, douchey mask he wore to hide all that he had endured. the head injuries. the emotional tragedies he had gone through. the way he had to be the rock for the kids even as he went through the same things as them.

he tries to tell steve they never have to go back to hawkins again, and steve is having none of it. he tells steve wayne can come visit them in their new city, and steve thinks that’s completely unfair to the man who had raised eddie, seriously, you’re going to make him come all the way up here?

and well i don’t know exactly what the ending is but steve is so stubborn about trying to love hawkins because it was eddie’s home and he wants to be able to go see wayne because wayne deserves to see his kid and eddie deserves to see his uncle and steve doesn’t want to be the problem :(

[fideidefenswhore]

the downfall and execution of a tudor queen (2023) / the boleyns: a scandalous family (2021) / the king's pearl: henry viii and his daughter mary (2017), melita thomas / anne boleyn (tv miniseries 2021) / the mirror and the light (2024) / elizabeth (1998)