#i don't know if this is accurate or if i'm just paranoid?

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

.

[scoobydoodean]

Okay so in 1.03 Dead In The Water, there's this exchange Sam and Dean have at one point in regards to Lucas—the little boy who watched his dad drown, who Dean connects with during the episode:

DEAN Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died. SAM There are cases—going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies. DEAN Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please.

And the last time I watched this episode, I went "Oh cool! A little Psychic!Sam Easter Egg." Right? Sam goes through the traumatic experience of losing Jess, and he's tapped into "whatever's out there" (the yellow eyed demon) and he's having premonitions about what he's going to do next. Which definitely makes a lot of sense.

But when I was gif-ing stuff from 1.03 today, I realized that... funnily enough, within the context of this episode we also have some fun stuff relating to the "slightly psychic Dean" posts that have gone around this year... Or if you prefer, Cassandra!Dean. Cassandra, in reference to the prophet in Greek myth, cursed by Apollo to utter true prophecies but never be believed.

Dean often knows when bad things are going to happen in Supernatural. He doesn't have visions—but he has "bad feelings" and makes predictions that turn out to be scarily accurate at times. Of course we can infer that Dean is just good at 1) reading people and 2) understanding how sequences of events tumble one by one in a row like so many dominoes. It's another sign of his incredible intelligence. But it IS fun to think about Dead In The Water as the first indication of Cassandra!Dean.

First, because Lucas has premonitions, and Lucas and Dean are paralleled and connect on an emotional level.

Dean and Lucas have similar traumatic childhood experiences. Both watched a parent die and both lost the ability to speak afterwards:

DEAN You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.

Dean is able to connect with Lucas through their shared traumatic experience. He's the only one who's able to get through to him—and after a short conversation and just drawing together for a while—much to his mom's shock. Dean is able to understand what Lucas is feeling without Lucas saying it.

Second, because Lucas has bad feelings that tell him the locations where the spirit will strike next, but no one listens to/believes him.

...Kind of like people usually don't listen to/believe Dean's bad feelings.

DEAN Anyway. Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or, uh...or believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don't even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake.

Of course, this line is just Dean paralleling Lucas with himself and his own reasons for not speaking, but it must hit home, because Lucas begins communicating with Dean through drawings.

Further, despite Sam also knowing Lucas is having premonitions, when Lucas reacts with extreme distress to the idea of going home and clings to Dean desperately, Sam still... doesn't think it means anything. He thinks the case is over.

Third, Dean has a bad feeling that the case isn't over, and Sam doesn't believe him.

The sheriff had just threatened to arrest them if they stayed in town, so of course going back to town is a big deal. When Dean turns around based on a bad feeling, Sam thinks he's just being paranoid.

SAM But Dean, this job, I think it's over. DEAN I'm not so sure. SAM If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest. DEAN All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt? SAM But why would you think that? DEAN Because Lucas was really scared. SAM That's what this is about?

Dean sticks to his guns, and they arrive just in time to save Lucas's mother from drowning in a bathtub.

[fictionalreads]

Can you please do an Armando x reader angst 🙏 I don’t know abt what lol I JUST WANT HEAPS OF ANGST SO I CAN BALL MY EYES OUT AND I WANT THIS MAN TO BE GROVELLING LEFT RIGHT SND CENTRE 😭 lol sorry abt that love ur work bae💗💗 Make sure to get heaps of rest and stay hydrated 🧘‍♀️💆‍♀️🫶

A/N: Soooo... reader didn't wanna talk to me. Or more accurately I think, Armando wanted all the attention. I'm sure I'll eventually be struck with inspiration for an Armando x reader angst and I'll definitely tag you in it, but for now I hope you enjoy this Armando angst.Title is from Lonely by Benny Blanco and Justin Bieber.

No One's Listening And That's Just Lonely

Fandom: Bad Boys

Prompt: Armando reflects on times in his life that he's felt alone.

Warnings⚠️: Our boy is lowkey depressed in this one. Might be a line that could be seen as morbid.

PHOTO IS FROM @yeahnohoneybye I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW TO GIVE THEM CREDIT WITHOUT TYPING IT OUT LIKE THIS

Armando Aretas was used to being alone. After being ripped from his mother’s arms at just six years old, he learned to embrace the feeling. He was forced into preparing for his mother’s grand plan which included gun training, fight training and emotional resistance. There was no room for a six year old’s sadness over being alone. The people his mother had training him definitely weren’t the type to go and cuddle with, they were more likely to punish him for being so weak that he expressed his fear. Not that his mother was any better when he was with her.

“Otras personas te decepcionarán, mijo. Confía en ti mismo,” she’d say when he was young and upset that he couldn’t play with the other children in the prison. He was small, but it was a prominent memory from his short time with her, the first lesson she taught him.

He should’ve listened to her, maybe then he’d have heard her subtle warnings about herself.

When he was eighteen, a freshly minted adult that was on top of the world, he had thought her old saying paranoid. He had loved going out and meeting people, befriending them. It came naturally to him, but his mother had her people keeping him on a tight leash. The few times he went out, he kept his cover pretty well, never telling anyone anything real about himself but just enough they wouldn’t be suspicious. 

Until he met a girl that is. She had been different from the quick fucks he’d had before, holding actual conversation with him and keeping him on his toes. He’d loved her spontaneity, it being a breath of fresh air from the rigid routines he was used to. He had slowly dropped breadcrumbs of what his lifestyle was really like b behind closed doors, testing the waters to see if she was about the life or if she’s run for the hills. Every small test he set in place for her she passed with flying colors. He was so sure she could handle it that he told her everything. At first it seemed like he was right about her, she stayed by his side. Then one day she disappeared, no word from her at all. He went to her place and saw she had packed some things, it looked like she had been in a hurry. He initially worried that she went to the police so he played low for a few weeks, but when nothing happened, he just felt hollow.

The one he was supposed to rule the world with was gone, she had left him. He spent weeks questioning every interaction. Where did he go wrong? What signs had he misread? Did he really misread them or were they obvious and he just refused to see what he didn’t want to? Had she ever really loved him? Why wasn’t who he was enough for her to stay? Why was he destined to walk this life alone?

Thinking back on it, his mother hadn’t been pleased his attention had been split and probably had her killed.

Prison hadn’t felt as alone as he was expecting. He knew other people would be around but he’d been surrounded by people all his life and still felt alone. His cell was in murder row, the nickname for the solitary unit he was in. He wasn’t exactly friends with the others in cells in his solitary unit, but they were better than nothing. He spent time with them sometimes when they got the chance to go to the yard, sometimes preferring to workout and enjoy his hour in the sun alone. 

It probably helped that his father would visit him at least twice a month, more if he could swing the travel time. It had been interesting getting to know the man he had thought was an enemy. He hadn’t attempted the corny get to know you spiel, preferring to stick to business which was fine by Armando. Armando had learned a few of the mans quirks just through the small amount of conversation they had. But his father usually showed up to ask him for information, an effort to cut down his extremely long sentence, so it lacked the warmth that would chase the cold feeling of loneliness away.

A loneliness that hit worst at night when he would stare at the gross ceiling of his cell and wonder what could have happened if he had known his father from the start.

This alone was different. He was lying down in the boat his father had put him on to flee Miami, blood slowly dripping out of his side. The motor on the boat had long ago canned out on him, he didn’t have the strength or the tools to try and fix it. He was currently floating in open water, no land in sight. He wondered if he would bleed out, or starve to death first. Maybe he’d dehydrate, he had no access to fresh drinking water. 

He figured the loneliness felt different because for the first time, he didn’t have a tether to something else that brought him out of his self pitying. His mother was dead. He didn’t have anyone he loved waiting for him to come home. His father had sent him away knowing he’d probably never see him again, albeit he also probably assumed Armando would survive. But what was the point? Everything he had been taught growing up was a lie and everything he did ensured he couldn’t come back from those actions with a clean slate. For the first time in his life, he hoped the police would catch him. 

He didn’t want to die feeling the worst feeling in the world, feeling like there was nothing for him. He’d rather keep living and find hope for a life he could build that he should have had from the start.

Translation:

Other people will disappoint you, my son (darling). Rely on yourself.

Taglist (I'm gonna tag for all Armando pieces unless you ask me not to):

@yeahnohoneybye @bootlegroach @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

[johannestevans]

it's often really frustrating watching impatient psychiatric facilities in tv because like. i regularly think when i'm super unwell that various things about an in-patient facility might be good for me - the constant support and supervision, the available assistance, etc

but psychiatric facilities exist within a carceral system and a lot of workers in those places, nurses, doctors, etc, have a great craving for power and a desire to take that out on vulnerable patients

and because in-patient facilities have complete power over vulnerable people's autonomy, and your rights are null and void because you sign them away.

and because to be treated as a psychiatric patient is in many ways similar or the same as being treated as a prisoner, you don't get to criticise any treatment you experience, even if it's abusive, and the potential for being gaslit is so high

especially like. as a rape victim, and those places are full of rapists who think that like. their patients exist to and deserve to be raped, again because of the thing about mental illness being treated as criminal and punished as such

i know that it's not everyone, and that the fact is that it's a small minority, but the point is that like. you don't get to control them or get rid of them or get them punished, because they're full human beings with rights, and once you're a psychiatric patient, at any time in your life, you're not any more

and that's all without being like, a fucking transgender man. so my personhood is even more in question by people like these

it's just the injustice of all of it, the fact that thousands and thousands of people are at the mercy of these dangerous, evil systems that seek to punish illness and exert power over the most vulnerable in society

and then i watch tv shows that act like these sorts of places are like. positive and supportive and safe. and an option.

and to bring up any of what i just said would be treated as paranoid and a sign of my mental illness rather than, you know, an accurate and completely realistic fear based on a system that is not just biased against me but actively seeks to and actively dehumanises me and people like me

[theavianlady]

...tw? Tw.

TW: Gore, Blood, Injury, uh...Pain and Sadness-

@psychologicalwarclaire

Ha ha! Tis I! I was the anon!

(Cue dramatic exclamations of disbelief)

Ahem. Tis the anniversary of Spider's Web with Strings Attached, and I wanted to make something! Go and read the fic if you haven't already; it's incredible.

Lots of ramblings and other versions under the cut (if anyone wants to see any other parts with or without different lighting and stuff that I didn't include, just let me know; I'm happy to share).

===============================================================

This is the first (almost) completely original thing I've drawn digitally! Poses are really hard for me, so I'm super proud of this. No tracing, only references!

...so. Many. References.

Except for the bricks, which I'm not counting, because bricks are scary. And the chains. I used a brush. Chains are scary too.

I started July 28th, and then spent almost 40 hours across various canvases planning, experimenting, and actually working on this. Not including research. It took me absolutely forever, but I regret nothing.

Except for the fact that I spent over 6 hours just shading bricks. I didn't even draw them! I took a pattern for the grooves from google and filled it with black, (rotated and edited for some variance in their cells), and then did the red lighting and some shadows you can't even really see. For 6 hours.

I tried to draw their spider brooches many times, but I could not get them to look right (especially from a side angle), so I gave up. Let's all just pretend they're there until I come back later. Eventually. Maybe. Oh, and Leo's chains. At the time of posting, I really just want to get this up and posted, so they're not shaded, but again, I might do it later.

I wanted to have this set when they're both in their separate cells, right after Viper was, uh...in the cell with Leo. So, Donnie is all stitched up and healing, while Leo is...not doing great (not certain about the timeline, because I'm paranoid about everything, so it's probably fine). But, I wanted to convey what happened to Donnie, so I drew that weird glowing spine thing to indicate some kind of mystic healing something. I don't even know.

It didn't turn out as well as I wanted it too, but I'm probably biased. Because there was so much gore on Leo's side, Donnie's looked boring. I couldn't figure out how to do the lighting. The values could be better. It could do with more time spent on the shadows. Etc, etc. I'm a perfectionist.

===============================================================

Uh, in order of posting, behold!

1. Big version.

2. Big version without lighting (except on the bricks) or Japanese characters.

3. Close up of magic spine representation thing because I'm proud of it.

4. Close up of gore-covered-Leo because I'm also proud of that. I have never drawn such...messy gore before.

Fun fact, the group of layers all of that was on is called "Bad Stuff".

5. Close up of Donnie's shell stitches without the spine thing, because I worked hard on those. It was also pretty tricky, because I couldn't find any references for large stitched wounds. Only open ones. If anyone knows any good places for references like that, t'would be greatly appreciated.

Also, they don't usually stitch puncture wounds, because it could trap infection, but I feel like with something so large and deep as dragon teeth it would be necessary? So I tried to include those.

But also, would they just stitch the skin in such deep wounds? Is there still a gaping hole under the skin? Do they also stitch muscles with the dissolvable sutures or something? I'm like, going to go to med-school just so I can draw more accurate wounds and stitches and stuff.

6. Close up of Leo without the gore because he's pretty and I'm really proud of the plastron. And the right forearm armour piece. I couldn't get the other ones to look as nice, much to my dismay.

The Japanese characters write out to Omae wa hitoribocchi da, which translates to You are alone. I think. Google Translate says it's You are all alone, but translation services that I trust slightly more, like Reverso.net and ChatGPT (the most reliable of sources, I know) just say You are alone.

Omae is the equivalent of anata, for those familiar with Anata wa hitori janai. They both mean you, but omae is more...condescending, from what I can tell. Informal and rough, often used to express disdain or superiority.

Wa indicates that anata or omae are the subject of the sentence.

Hitori is present in both, meaning alone, though from what I can see, hitoribocchi is more...desolate and painful. It's a more emotional term for being alone.

Janai kind of means is not, or are not, while da is just like...closing the sentence. A firm, declarative ending particle.

I tried to paste the actual Japanese characters from different translation services (I am not fighting with using a keyboard from another language), but Tumblr wouldn't let me. Boo. So, you can all suffer with my English-Japanese. Also, don't trust anything I say. I'm learning Japanese on Duolingo, but I've only just started and it gets way more complicated. So, pretty much anything I just said could be wrong. I just did a lot of research.

If anyone does speak Japanese, and knows a better way to convey this, please tell me. I crave knowledge and accuracy.

I should get like, a personal human translator. No AI or program can truly understand a language like its people. Especially comparing Japanese and English. From what I've learned, there are a lot of words that could be translated many ways, depending on exact feel. It's complicated, and I'm scared to get farther into Duolingo's course.

===============================================================

I also just discovered yesterday that today is also the anniversary of the Rise Movie, so yay! Happy Anniversary to the movie that literally changed my life. And Curly, you're awesome. It's authors like you keeping this fandom alive, so thank you!

[treason-and-plot]

At the other end of the table Helene gives a gentle laugh and spears a glistening piece of steak with her fork. Tom takes a long drink from his beer glass, as if toasting his own wit. Connor sets his fork down on his plate. Saffron tries to make eye contact with him but he is staring at the wooden salt and pepper shakers, his jaw clenched.

“That's not true at all,” Saffron says to Tom. "Why would you even say that?"

“Saff, it's okay," says Connor. “Dad just thinks he's being funny. Don't worry about it."

“All I'm trying to say is that Helene and I are exceedingly grateful to you for all you've done for Connor this term," says Tom. He bestows his shark-like smile upon her once again, but she doesn't smile back. “I meant academically, but I’m sure you’ve helped him in myriad other ways as well. We’ve noticed a lot of positive changes, haven’t we Helene?"

“Oh, definitely,” says Helene.

“What are you talking about? You wouldn't notice if I grew two heads,” says Connor.

“Watch the attitude, son,” says Tom. His tone is pleasant, and sends a small shiver down Saffron's spine.  

“I'm glad to hear that you think I'm a positive influence, because I was paranoid you'd think I was a bad influence after I made Connor skip school with me the other day," says Saffron. Tom looks at her blankly, his eyebrows raised.

“I didn’t hear anything about this,” says Tom. “Did you, Hel?”

“I think I may have received a voicemail or an email from the school, now that you mention it,” Helene says. “I probably just assumed it was a message asking me to donate to the second-hand uniform sale or something.”

“Wow," says Saffron. “My mother went off her head.”  

“Saffron’s mother is a police officer,” Helene tells Tom, as if this is the sole explanation for her reaction.

“Ah,” says Tom. “And what does your father do, Saffron?”

“Here we go,” mutters Connor.

“He operates a chain of childcare centres,” says Saffron.

“Really,” says Helene. “What's the name of his business?”

“Little Sprouts,” says Saffron. Both Helene and Tom make noises signifying their recognition and approval. 

“Oh, I’ve heard they’re doing very well!” Helene says. “Didn’t he just open several more centres?”

“Yeah, he’s got five now,” says Saffron.

“Does he use an accountancy firm?” says Tom. Connor mutters something under his breath.

“I think Mireille- his girlfriend- does all the accounting,” says Saffron.

“There’s a wise saying that I like to tell my clients, Saffron,” says Tom. “And that saying is: 'It’s not the money that matters, it’s how you use it that determines its true value'.”

He pauses for effect.

“Woah. Interesting,” Saffron deadpans while Connor stifles a loud yawn. Helene narrows her eyes at him.

“Now, I’m sure your Dad’s girlfriend is more than competent in the area of bookkeeping and handling the payroll and the rest of the basics, but how up to date is she with the latest tax laws?” says Tom. “Does she know how to forecast cash flow? Does she realise the importance of accurate record keeping? Does she have access to the most up-to-date accounting software, which will enable she and your father to maximise business efficiency and productivity?” 

"I have no idea," says Saffron sweetly. "But I'm guessing you do, right?"

[sixx6sexx2love]

Hi I was wondering if you make GNR fics and if you do can you pls make one of Izzy being mean to his girl or something and if you don’t write gnr fics can you do Vince or Nikki being mean to his girl thank you!!

HII I DONT WRITE FOR GNR BUT MAYBE IF I FEEL LIKE GETTING DISGUSTINGLY EDUCATED ON THEM THEN MAYBE. ALSO I THINK YOU MEAN LIKE NIKKI OR SOMETHING BEING MEAN TO HIS OWN GIRLFRIEND AND NOT IZZYS? IM PRETTY SURE

word count: 678

warnings: manipulation, drugs, alcohol, nikki being an ass

ok so just to start things off I don't really know whats going on with like mick and something about nikki sueing him or something and it kinda sucks. but if Nikki would do that to his “brother” now then imagine what Nikki would do to his girlfriend back then.

don't get me wrong, he loves you to death and he shows it, but there's a lot of reasons as to why he would be so toxic or mean.(drugs, alcohol, pressure, and i'm sure in a relationship like this the lack of love he got as a child would probably come into play.)

He does love you though. Sometimes he can just be an asshole. but not so much physically if he's being mean just to be mean but more emotionally if that makes sense.

There can be a number of reasons why Nikki could be mean to you. It could be from drug-induced behavior, especially if he's feeling aggressive or paranoid from being high.

It could also be if he's feeling insecure or threatened in some way, and his default response is to become defensive and lash out. Another possibility is that he's simply being a dick, and he's not thinking deeply about his behavior, but rather just reacting negatively.

he would probably be really passive-aggressive like the silent treatment or just act cold and ignore you. He would also make mean comments, either outright or in a snide or sarcastic way and harsh with his words and demeanor, saying hurtful things to you in order to hurt you and make you feel bad about yourself.

He's the type to go for sensitive points and use them as a weapon, knowing that it'll hurt you even if the criticism may be accurate or true, but if you do it to him hes shutting it down immediately, like getting in your face telling you to shut up or knock it off.

now if you were like in front of people like the band or something, he wouldn't wanna embarrass you or him, and he doesn't wanna hear shit from the guys or get looks from people if he were mean to you, so the most he would do in public is like get real close to you and tell you to leave him alone then walk away.

but if he were just mad or being a dick he'd still act like a boyfriend I guess, but wouldn't talk much. but while he's in this pissy mood he wouldn't try and solve it or apologize.

maybe he would after he got something good out of it but most likely not. maybe he'd disappear for a while then come back with his stupid smile like nothing really happened.

I'm telling you this man is a manipulator and gaslighter! there's no way he's not.

Nikki can manipulate in several ways. He might use emotional manipulation to play on your feelings and make you doubt yourself or your own thoughts and opinions.

He could use intellectual manipulation, where he uses reason and logic to get you to agree with him. He could gaslight you, where he alters reality and convinces you that your own memory of an event is wrong. He could even use guilt or fear to get you to do what he wants.

Overall, he uses his intelligence, charisma, and your feelings towards him to manipulate you to get what he wants.

If Nikki ended up making you cry, he would probably feel guilty and try to make amends after he came down from his aggressive or mean behavior.

He might apologize and try to make things better between you two, it depends on how far he took things, but he would likely feel regretful for making you cry and wouldn't want to see you upset. he'd probably say things like “I didnt mean it like that” in a slight pissy tone but hugging you at the same time.

but he doesn't ever really wanna make you cry. it doesn't bring him pleasure and he always ends up feeling guilty.

[yanderes-galore]

Could you make Yandere Inteleon(Pet-Like)?

Sure, I can see what I have for this! As someone who chose Sobble for my journey in Shield, I'll gladly do this. Sorry for the long wait! I started this months ago then ran out of ideas until now. Even now I'm still running out of ideas as I wasn't given much here, sorry everyone :(

Overprotective! Inteleon Concept

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Clingy behavior, Violence/Murder, Dubious companionship.

Inteleon is based on secret agents iirc.

Its Pokedex entry explains that this Pokemon can accurately shoot water from its fingertips and even glides through the air with the membranes on its back.

It already seems like a Pokemon that would be good at taking out prey.

Like most starter Pokemon, your Inteleon grew attached to you as a Sobble.

As you raised them and kept them on your team, they felt like they had to protect you.

Plus, due to Inteleon's nature, it seems like it wouldn't be hard for them to protect you.

They go from a little crybaby, to a moody teen, all the way to an assassin.

In fact, they believe they are more than capable of defending their trainer.

I imagine an Inteleon has some arrogance to their personality.

After all, they've been so good at what they do, you keep them on the team.

They've been your number one since you got them.

So really, how could any of your other Pokemon compare?

Honestly if you think about it, a lot of starter Pokemon probably have this view.

Due to Inteleon being based off secret agents and assassins, you bet your Pokemon acts as a bodyguard.

I assume the water they shoot out of their fingertips is pressurized.

Perhaps to the point of being lethal if used right.

Your Inteleon acts very dignified.

They are very polite around you and others.

You'd never expect them of something sinister.

They're all behaved and smiles with you during the day.

To you, they're probably still just your cute lizard starter that used to be such a little crybaby.

They've grown out of that by now...

Yet they tolerate it when you bring it up at times.

They like seeing you happy... so much so that you'll never see what they do in the dark for you.

Your Inteleon is protective like any starter would be.

So much to the point they probably... well... stage murders?

If anyone wronged you, your Inteleon is the first to know of it and deal with it.

For example, maybe you broke up with a partner or someone?

Your Inteleon will either;

Threaten your ex to make things up with you...

Get rid of them because they hurt you.

They're your bodyguard, have been since you picked them over the other two.

You most likely won't know it's them for a long time.

They're skilled in hiding their crimes due to how stealthy they are.

You won't see in blood and their victims certainly won't say anything about it.

It's an interesting way to look at an overprotective Pokemon.

They are literally an assassin and spy.

You don't think they'll do secret things behind your back?

They secretly keep an eye on everyone around you.

While others are terrified of your Inteleon, you're spoiling them.

Others see the dark look in your Inteleon's eyes, they remember what your Pokemon has done behind your back...

But you're petting them, praising them, adoring them... all while they squeak in comfort.

Why should you have to know about what they do?

Those around you are just jealous and paranoid.

You should just focus on your Inteleon...

Like a good Pokemon... They'll keep you happy and pleased... No matter the cost.

[jlfletcher]

All I Really Want Is You

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: bullet wounds, mentions of potential death (no one dies, just a small injury during a mission). This is told in 3rd person limited POV (of Miguel, mostly?). One-sided kind of. Reader can speak Spanish (is that considered a warning?).

Summary: This is how it all began for Miguel. From mere coincidence to something more. (Fluff/Romance)

Excerpt: "He realizes something and it’s inarguable in his mind... Out of all the Spiders, you’re the anomaly."

A/N: This narrative is actually repurposed from my friend's spidersona story. It didn't have any romance in it originally but my version does and the more I wrote, the more it diverged from their initial story. They said they liked this version and gave me the go ahead to post it because they'll probably never share their's anyway.

Special thank you to my friend who edited this thing. I'm grateful that they were able to help me turn my messy notes and ramblings in a cohesive story.

I get really inspired by music. So, if I do continue to publish installments of this story, they'll most likely be written with songs included.

Also, I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. I've never had to format such a long post like this on here before.

Word Count: 13.9k (This is a slow burn)

Breakdown

I'm overworking 'til the sundown

Don't see the light inside my head now

There’s a faint buzzing sound that fills Miguel’s workspace. His eyes are a bit bloodshot and itchy from his lack of blinking. He’s grown irritated by now after hours of surveillance and Lyla badgering him to just take a break already. He keeps swatting her away with languid flicks of his wrist while sighing and rubbing his temple. There’s an ache in his head that’s dull yet ever-present but he feels like rest will not come to him anytime soon. He also remembered that he wanted to run diagnostics on a few of his lab’s systems that would ultimately take a while. The testing is usually run automatically but he’s disabled the scheduled maintenance cycle in order to have tasks to do when he's restless like now. Unfortunately for Miguel’s overactive mind, things have mellowed out in the multiverse for the time being. He's been trying to fill his time as he waits for something, anything to happen. It's caused him to grow a bit on edge as of late. Yes, there are still plenty of anomalies to be dealt with but he’s found the late hours to have grown more quiet. It seems that the uncharacteristic silence has planted an eerie feeling in him that he just can’t shake. What if the moment he steps away, something arises? Lyla calls him paranoid but truthfully, he can’t take the risk of complacency.

Eventually, he plops into his chair and prepares to stare at the monitors for another who knows how many hours. He glances over the society’s various CCTV displays in a sluggish attempt at monitoring the building. Yet, something catches his attention. His eyes zero in on a lone figure in the engineering lab. He blinks a bit slowly and scoots closer to take a better look while disregarding the buttons on the control panel in front of him that actually allows him to zoom in on the feed. The thought had completely escaped his foggy brain thanks to his chronic sleep deprivation. Languidly, his eyes flicker to the time and back up. 4:13 am.

I need to see you in my window

There’s not a doubt in Miguel’s mind about what or more accurately who it may be. It’s your form hunched over the workbench. Your signature pair of shoes gives you away entirely. Frankly, it’s not a surprise at this point. This may be the fourth or fifth time he's noticed your presence at such an unorthodox hour. You always tend to stay late at HQ because of your own odd sleeping schedule. He’s overheard you mention to Jess that your universe has a slight daytime shift compared to the others but he didn’t consider it to be by this much. This was nonetheless a preferred choice of company, albeit in an entirely different area of the building from him, because you're quiet and focus on your work. He's not entirely sure if the two of you have interacted for more than a single minute. Perhaps, that's why he prefers you over others. He's never actually spoken to you outside of very few mission assignments and reports. You've caught his eye before. At first, he noticed you were a bit too quiet. It initially caused suspicion to sew itself within his brain. However, after a brief investigation into you performed by Lyla, he concluded that it's simply the way you behave. Now, when you catch his eye he assumes it's due to how you carry yourself relative to others, professional and efficient. Despite the distance between you two, both figurative and literal in this moment, he finds himself watching you through one of the many floating windows before him. His fingers finally slither among the control panel to switch to a different camera in the lab. After flicking through a couple of feeds, the screen changes to an angle that shows your face. Perhaps he's a bit too tired in this instance because his hazy brain barely registers the way his breath hitches in his throat momentarily.

He's seen your bare face only once before and it summoned the same reaction from him. He's taken aback by how you look. It's a bit of a surprise in all honesty. You're so, for lack of a better term, different. And that's not claimed in some common colloquial way. You are literally different. Here at the society, a handful of faces are circulated between the Spiders. However, yours is unique and undoubtedly you. He's only ever come across one of you, the one that's sitting and tinkering in one of his labs. The last and only time he saw your bare face was a fleeting glance before you quickly shoved your mask back on. He assumes you're a bit shy because of it. However, now he can take his time to really analyze your features. He sees how your brows pinch in concentration and how your eyes look a bit red. Ah, it appears you haven't been blinking properly like him either. He sees how your tongue gently swipes out from your mouth before you nip at your bottom lip. Your hands work on repairing a circuit board with your eyes focused on the corrosion you wipe off. He watches you for a while as you work, finding intrigue in the way you do such mundane tasks as repairing a PCB and reassembling a gadget. Eventually, you sit up and stretch a bit, before rubbing your face in what he collects as either exhaustion or boredom. He understands the feeling, truly. Yet his eyes widen a bit as your eyes look at the camera and he finds himself perking up when he sees you smile. He then zooms out to see that you’re conversing with Lyla. Despite the quick misunderstanding, he finds himself enjoying the scene before him. You speak to her so calmly and casually. Do you often speak with her? Many thoughts start to pop up in his mind about you and your overall enigmatic behavior. Your smile triggers hyperactivity to blossom in his mind, his thoughts reeling at the way you look. Your lips pinch together softly as one side of your mouth curls a bit more than the other. Your brows raise as you speak with Lyla, your contentment is evident. He's caught up in the details of your face and it's nearly instinctual the way the corners of his lips twitch in a subconscious attempt to mirror yours.

And I whisper

All I really want is you

What would you do?

He has formed this habit of watching you in the late nights and early mornings. At first, it was mere coincidence when his eyes lingered on you, maybe even out of some sense of caution, but now he finds himself seeking you out after a month of noticing your constant presence. Lyla teased him about being a creep but he usually just replies with a grunt or the occasional snarky comment. Every night you’re working on something and his curiosity is piqued. However, it appears you work efficiently given how it seems to be a new project every few nights or so. His eyes flutter a bit as he sees Lyla appear next to you. Judging by the way you react to her arrival, it’s just for a chat. He notices how your hands rest over one another in front of you as you nod at what Lyla says, laughing and blinking softly at her. You’re polite when listening, putting down whatever you’re working on to give her your attention. The only assumption he's made from it being that you're simply kind. His eyes are attracted to the way your thumbs twiddle around one another absentmindedly. Do you often fidget like that? He tries to think back on the previous times he witnessed your hands when they were not busy, which is not a common occurrence. And as he watches you, he strokes the panel button under his own thumb subconsciously as if it were the back of your hand. He’s only managed to conclude one thing about them and it’s not about how you fidget.

He mutters to himself deeply in observation, “Pequeñas.”

He looks at your hands, pixelated by the monitor, and then down at his own much bigger ones. He ponders momentarily about just how small they truly are. He's certain that if he were to measure them, the entire length would barely reach 7 inches while his are well past 9, probably even past 10 in actuality. If you placed your palm against his, his hand would completely dwarf yours. If you placed your palm against his... what would it fit like? What would it feel like? What would you do if he held your hand? Wait… why is he thinking about that?

“But,” he mumbles softly as he watches you walk off with Lyla in tow, “I think…”

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

It’s been two months since he fully took notice of you that night with his full attention; the night he seen you truly as yourself for the first time. From what Lyla has mentioned, you’ve been here almost every night since you joined the society. It doesn’t bother him that he hadn’t noticed you for so long. To him, it made sense. He often found himself drowned in work. Things were hectic for a while, a long while, but luckily during these past few months, things have been relatively easy. Emergency missions in the middle of the night have been few and far between and usually required only one person to complete them which is why Miguel has been manning the fort all by his lonesome for some time now. However, the only other spider permitted to be at HQ during the overnight hours is you thanks to your completely reversed day-night schedule. The two of you have been on a handful of late night missions together throughout this time but he has yet to speak to you about anything not regarding work. It’s a bit strange if he’s being truthful. You may be the only spider that has never spoken to him casually, ever. Sure, he’s suspected you are antisocial but he hadn’t anticipated it to be by this much. You don’t stand out, you stay focused on your work, and you never talk to anyone. Well, that last one isn’t too unbelievable given the fact that you’re only ever here when everyone else isn’t. Miguel can’t help but wonder if you have ever spoken to anyone in the Society without the intention of completing your professional duties? The closest to such an instance was the one time he heard you speak to Jess which was also the first time he had ever seen you. Jess was going to introduce you to him but he was busy having an argument with Hobie. It never grew to be physical but his shouting certainly must have put you off considering he never saw you around again after that. It makes sense, truthfully, since that was your first impression of him. You must think he's always shouting, irritated, and highly intolerant of disobeying his instruction. That is what he was yelling about at the time after all. Well, that is until he noticed you lingering around the building at night. Honestly, you weren’t even a thought in his mind until Lyla sent him a debriefing of you just before Jess officially assigned you to the night shift. He was going to protest, citing that you have no meritorious experience to do so or something like that but he found out that you don’t actually bother him like everyone else. However, he’s grown very aware of your presence as of late thanks to his more unoccupied overnight schedule.

He even has time to just sit and think about anything other than the multiverse now. Usually, this spare time is occupied by observing you. He likes to sit back and watch all the tasks you do with no one around. He finds it relaxing in a way, which is something he’s grateful for. He’s discovered many things about you through this newfound hobby. You tilt your head with a small pout when you’re confused. You often have music stuck in your head which is made evident by the way you nod your head rhythmically. You rub your face with both hands when you’re tired and only one hand when you’re bored. You like to take power naps under the workbench specifically in the left corner of the lab, closest to the door. You usually wear civilian clothing around HQ at night but always wear the same shoes. You don’t like coffee. You drink tea but it has to be hot with steam billowing from the cup. You drink water more often than tea though, but only at room temperature. You crack your knuckles in 30-minute intervals when you type or tinker for long periods of time. You yawn frequently when the air-conditioner is pointed at you… The list could go on. Honestly, he’s a bit taken aback by how much knowledge he’s retained of your behavior and mannerisms. Why is that exactly? He can’t just claim outright boredom. Watching you is something he avidly chooses to do because he likes it. Bored certainly isn't the word he'd use to describe how observing you makes him feel.

“Why am I doing this?”, he mutters deeply as his eyes watch you type away on a computer. Maybe it’s like a child with an ant farm. It’s simply interesting. No, that doesn’t quite sound right. Even ‘interesting’ doesn’t truly capture how he feels watching you every night.

Soon a bright search window pops up in front of him, making him flinch aggressively. “Lyla!”, he shouts in annoyance as he rubs his stinging eyes; already knowing the culprit.

She pops up next to him with a shrug, “What? You asked a question and I’m answering it.”

He squints softly, his eyes focusing on the window presented to him. There are multiple articles listing words that make him furrow his brows. Intrigue, infatuation, sonder, escapism, comfort-watching. To Lyla’s surprise, he mulls them over but she chalks it up to his sleep deprivation. Some words stick out to him, finding himself unfamiliar with them.

“Comfort-watching.”, he states slowly as he selects the article. It explains what it is and what it stems from, denoting its connection to escapism. “The habitual diversion of the mind to purely imaginative activity or entertainment as an escape from reality or routine.”, he reads aloud, words muffled by his hand stroking his chin. Well, that didn’t make sense, watching you is his routine at this point.

He wouldn’t describe what you do as entertainment in theory and it’s certainly not imaginative. It’s just him watching how you do normal things. He softly chews his lip as he glosses over the other articles.

Lyla mimics his actions and strokes her chin, opening another article in front of her form. “Oh? This’ll be interesting.”, she thinks before speaking to Miguel, who’s now distracted by both the articles and his occasional glances at you. “Why do you like watching y/s/n?” [your spider name]

He replies with a sigh as he waves his hands around, positioning the articles around him, “That's what I’m trying to figure out, Lyla.”

“Just think for a moment. Off the top of your head, what’s one thing you like about doing this?”, she gestures to the monitor containing you. The two of them glance at you through one of the screens standing from your seat and stretching your whole body in an attempt to reduce your exhaustion.

Miguel’s inquisitive eyes soften a bit as he responds earnestly, “It’s familiar.” Lyla’s face flashes a bit in curiosity as she observes his expression. Before she can speak again, he continues, “This is calm and… warm.”

“Warm?”, Lyla asks curiously, her eyes fluttering over the chart in the article she opened. She's notated a couple of checkmarks now, in places she hadn't expected.

His eyes just can’t leave you as he thinks about what he’s said. It’s hard to put exactly into words, “I… appreciate her presence. She’s always there and it makes me feel comfortable.” There’s a strange feeling that stirs inside him upon hearing the words he formulates in response. You, a complete stranger, have somehow become a totem of routine in his eyes. Because after watching you nearly every night, you are always there working. Always. Despite the strange and unpredictable multiverse the two of you reside in, you sit in one of his labs, typing away on a computer. In a sense you’ve become the embodiment of normal.

Lyla repeats quietly but not lacking the casual tone she usually holds, “Her… Do you ever want to talk to y/s/n?”

He hums in thought before replying with an unsure shrug, “Honestly… I never even considered that. I don’t think I need to.”

Lyla glances back at the article and then back to Miguel, “But do you want to?”

His movements stall as her question hangs in the air. He takes a moment to apprehend what she’s asking. His eyes trail slowly from the articles floating around him to you on the CCTV display. You're crawling under that specific workbench in the left corner of the lab for what he knows is a power nap; he finds himself almost smiling at that. Does he want to talk to you? He ponders a situation in which he finds himself conversing with you casually. What would you talk about? He knows you like tea. Would you talk about your favorite kind? What is your favorite kind? How would you pronounce it? How do you pronounce certain words like caramel or aluminum? Maybe like aluminium? Maybe you say it differently than he does. He can imagine a light-hearted debate over phonetics, the two of you drowsy from the late night hours. Maybe you’ll tease him about the way he says it. How would you say… his name? You’ve spoken his name before on missions with a professional tone, always addressing him by his surname. It irks him a bit but he's never gotten around to informing you to just call him Miguel… How would you sound calling out to him in a tone that's amicable and familiar?

He’s broken out of his thoughts by Lyla waving her pixelated arms in front of him and a shout of his name, “Miguel!” He jolts at the sound of an alarm beeping around him. Bold words pop out in front of him, “ANOMALY DETECTED”. He hears his family name called out and straightens at the sound. That’s not Lyla's voice. He turns around to see you in your suit, tucking the hem of your mask into your collar as you trek to his platform. His hand waved behind him, minimizing the displays floating around him to hide the clues to his distraction with a single motion.

He hears you speak in a sober tone as you stand before him, “Lyla informed me that we’re both needed for this one. There’s an anomaly running around a metropolitan area on Earth-26. It travels quickly so we'll have to chase after it. Also, there doesn’t appear to be anyone to help.” He nods quickly, navigating through the multiversal map on his watch to open a portal. He nearly flinches as you gently grasp his forearm, looking up at him slowly.

“O'Hara,” you said calmly, which made him look at you curiously, “full stealth on this one. I’m uncertain how this universe would respond to… our kind.”

His lips nearly press into his natural pout under his mask as you address him by his family name but quickly absorbs what you're truly saying to him. He’s had a couple run-ins with a universe like this before and understands your concern entirely. He slowly pulls your hand from his forearm. The size difference doesn’t skip past him and makes something buzz in the back of his brain. Yet it’s subconscious, the way his fingers linger around yours before he releases them and states firmly, “Stay close to me.” You nod in understanding which he reciprocates before opening a portal. You flip open your watch and quickly calibrate your interface and send sync data to his watch to stay connected during the mission. It’s strange how ready you appear to be but it’s greatly appreciated. He hadn’t realized that he was staring before you turned towards him. You tilt your head softly and unbeknownst to you, he knows without a doubt that it’s out of curiosity. He gives you a nod, hoping it didn’t look as strange as he felt doing it. You step through the portal first and he’s quick to follow after as Lyla observes it all with an inquisitive squint.

All I really want is you

This was an uncommon feeling. You two chased after the anomaly, zipping through the sleeping city's skies quickly. Luckily, you both haven’t been spotted by anyone as you swing through the late-night drizzle. He started feeling a bit… he supposes ‘at ease’ is the best way to put it. He’s not foolish enough to grow complacent mid-mission but being on mission with you, working so seamlessly with him, made this feel easy. You’re professional, giving clear cues and staying on the same page. It’s as if you can hear what he’s thinking. Sure lego Spider-man is a good teammate but you’re a good partner.

The anomaly made its way to a rooftop with you right on its tail. You landed quickly with a soft roll before keeping low to the ground while Miguel landed behind you with a soft grunt. You crouched a bit as you tiptoed around gently, trying not to alarm the anomaly located somewhere nearby. He waits on standby, keeping a lookout for anyone who might see you two while you try to catch the small creature. You freeze as you see the silhouette of it, patting the ground with stubby limbs, seemingly ready to take flight again. That is until you squat down and pat the ground too. It looks at you and tilts its head, another action that you mimic before removing your mask. It slowly walks to its right and you gently shuffle to your left. You release a chuckle as you can see something that looks like a tail wagging. The noise meets Miguel’s ears and he turns to find you squatting and maskless. His eyes widen at the sight, fighting the hitch in his breath as he sees your h/c hair, it looks much softer in person. His eyes narrow is realization as he quickly replaces his intrigue with his usual pragmatism.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he speaks monotone, “What are you doing?”

You release a slow and soft, “Shhhh.” You then gently raise your hand, motioning him to approach you. His fingers twitch instinctively as he looks at your flopping hand and surprises himself by reaching out for it. However, his mellow emotions are doused in confusion as you tug him down quickly. He nearly falls on top of you, clearly not anticipating such sudden strength from you. Luckily, he manages to brace himself, kneeling behind you, and leaning a bit over your shoulder. He’s about to ask what the hell you’re doing when you point to the far corner of the rooftop. His eyes widen as he watches the dark creature slowly slink toward the two of you.

You breathe out quietly to Miguel, “Deactivate your mask.” He turns to you in shock despite you not looking at him. He’s about to protest before you whisper, “It needs to see your face.”

He acquiesces your command and slowly retracts his mask. The air nips at his warm face as he spies the creature tilting its head. You tilt your head too while whispering to him, “Mimic what it does.”

Miguel begins to protest but you quickly cut off his words, “Why-?”

“Just do it.” He nearly rolls his eyes at your sudden command but finds himself following suit as he tilts his head too. He watches curiously as the creature pats the ground with its left paw and you mirror it with your right hand. He grows a bit amused watching the two of you continue this little dance until it slowly crawls closer to you both. Miguel can hear your breath hitch as the creature steps into the light shining from over the door to the rooftop you all are on. It’s dark and covered with scales, with large blue eyes and bat-like wings. Your hand is still placed on the ground as the creature cautiously closes the distance between you. You cautiously turn your hand palm up, Miguel is confused by this but continues to watch nonetheless. The creature's eyes look up at you warily with tightly constricted pupils. You then turn your head, facing away from it and toward Miguel quickly. He barely manages to lean back enough to avoid you smacking your head into his shoulder.

He looks at you quizzically as you whisper to him, “Keep your eyes on me.” His brows furrow which indicates his clear confusion at your command. You respond cautiously yet softly, “Don’t look it in the eyes. It’s still scared.” Miguel slowly nods in understanding as his eyes stay on yours. 

There’s something that fizzles in his ears as he stares at you. Your eyes are oddly… calming. He’s never thought of looking at them before. At least not in an intentional way like this, unlike the usual polite eye contact you’re obligated to give someone you work with. It's so strange seeing you in person up close like this. He also has to fight the heat he feels making its way onto his cheeks at your close proximity. Your eyes sparkle a bit from the dim moonlight and there's drops of rain littered around your hair. You look so soft and inviting. There's not a sliver of malice anywhere across your features. He's sure this small anomaly is smart enough to come to you.

Soon he feels his lungs quiver in his chest as he watches your eyes crinkle as you smile. You’re chuckling. Why are you chuckling? His ears are roaring by the time you turn back toward the creature. His gaze lingers on the side of your face before looking down at the little one who’s currently licking and nuzzling into your hand, giving it playful nips. He smiles at that, grateful that this mission will end easier than expected.

The creature jumps on you and licks your face with a happy warble. Miguel tenses, worried that it may be attacking you until you release a giggle as you coo warmly, slowly standing with the creature wrapped in your arms. The sound tingles in Miguel's ears and he can’t help but watch you almost mesmerized as you carry the creature carefully before he stands back up next to you.

You comfort the creature with soft words as your nimble fingers quickly fashion a tracker to the little beast then click your watch. You speak calmly as you stare down at the baby creature with a smile, “Lyla, may you please check for any residual anomalies?” Lyla appears behind the creature and gives you a little salute before her visage flits around and scans the area. Miguel approaches to inspect the animal but leans back when it attempts to sniff at him which makes you chuckle at his stiffness. Then, you gently scratch between the animal’s horns as you walk closer to him to let it smell him properly. He stands awkwardly, watching its nostrils flare with each sniff of his arm.

You look around at the skyline behind him with a sigh, “What a view. Do you ever-”. Your voice fades off quickly as you squint, looking at something in the distance. Miguel notices as your hand stops moving and you cradle the creature protectively. Before he can even look at you, you shout while shoving him to the ground roughly, “Sniper!”. You yelp as something pierces your forearm violently, making your knees wobble. The creature jumps out of your hold, having sensed your body going limp before you slump into Miguel’s arms. The creature nuzzles into your dangling hand with a sad whine.

Miguel immediately enters high alert. He stays low as shots ring out above you, dragging you behind a structure to obstruct you all from whatever the hell is attacking. You're slumped against him as he shakes you softly with a tense voice, patting your face anxiously, “Y/s/n? Y/s/n wake up!” He sees the creature standing on its hind legs pawing at your thigh, looking up at him with scared eyes. Miguel shouts out into the air, “Lyla!” Immediately, a portal opens in front of you three.

Lyla speaks in a rushed tone, looking down at you worriedly, “I didn’t detect any more anomalies. Hurry.” Miguel scoops up both you and the anomaly, holding you tight as he jumps through the portal quickly.

What would you do?

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

Miguel’s quick as he carries you to the med bay, the anomaly’s little legs trying to keep up with his long, wide strides. He places you on a bed and pulls up a med pod. He runs a full scan of your body and finds a bit of relief when it is concluded that you got dosed with a tranquilizer but he’s still tense. Usually a tranq doesn’t work that instantaneously; nor does it cause a strong shift in your blood pressure like this… It’s almost as if it’s thinned your blood. He sanitizes and gloves up quickly before grabbing some supplies to remove the projectile lodged in your arm. Fortunately, it doesn't take too long to remove all the pieces of the dart that broke apart. There's a bad feeling in his stomach as he does. He's never seen a tranq dart do such a thing. Why is it so fragile? Miguel has Lyla analyze the fragments while he cleans the wound.

He steals a glance at the little creature sitting in the doorway, its eyes watching you intently. He speaks evenly as he floods the wound with saline, gently patting it dry, “Don’t worry, she’s okay. She’s just sleeping.” He finishes wrapping your arm gingerly with a bandage and pulls the bed sheet over you, raising each of your arms to rest over the sheet. He stares at your hand in his for a moment. It’s warm. Your hands are warm and tiny compared to his. So, that’s how they feel… He blinks himself out of his thoughts and gently sets your hand down by your side to let you rest.

“You can come over. I’m done but she won’t be awake for a while.” Miguel says before looking over at the little beast. He’s almost surprised when it appears to understand what he’s said. After all, you did mention during the mission that it seemed highly intelligent relative to other wild animals. It stands, slowly trudging over before hopping onto the bed beside your leg. It looks at you and then turns to crawl on you cautiously as if it’s afraid of hurting you. After a few moments of hesitation, it pats the bed, circling a few times before settling down between your feet. Finally, it rests its chin on your leg, looking at you with large eyes while its tail curls around itself, and releases a soft bleat.

The display of how gentle it acts with you nearly makes him scoff in disbelief. It’s hard to believe that this is the same angry little beast that tried to claw at him earlier in the night. He's almost offended, truthfully. Why was it so mean to him? It seems to act like a cat, aggressive one moment then clingy the next. Miguel's eyes drift back up to look at you as he works around the room. He thinks for a moment to himself, "I guess between the two of us, I'd go to her too." He shakes the thoughts from his head. Miguel plops back onto the stool beside your bed with a sigh, having just finished cleaning up the soiled supplies. He yawns and scratches his jaw tiredly before he crosses his arms over his chest. The adrenaline that was once in his body is now long gone and his prior exhaustion floods him tenfold. However, he’s able to mutter with droopy eyes that watch your peaceful sleeping face, “What were you going to ask me?” He soon couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, his body feeling heavy and slowly slumping over as he drifted off to sleep. 

Head down

Miguel groans as he feels something slimy on his forehead. He squints harshly at the light that penetrates his eyelids but before he can get up to stretch he freezes at what he hears.

"Hey, hey. Don't do that, little one. He needs to rest."

He's about to just sit up to explain that it's too late but your voice breaks through with a gentle coo. "Oh. Look what you did, honey. You messed it up…"

Before his mind can propel itself into countless thoughts of hearing you say the pet name in such an endearing way, he feels something gently card through his hair. There's something that erupts down his spine at the sensation and that faint fizzling in his ears returns. Especially when he can feel your fingers graze against his helix as you sweep some strands of his hair behind it. He feels his body melt at your ministrations.

Now, he chooses not to move or open his eyes. He pretends to be asleep on what he can blindly tell is the edge of the bed you’re resting in. He enjoys this, the sound of your voice as you comfort and hush the little anomaly the two of you caught. He hears sad warbling and feels the bed move a bit. He manages to cautiously crack an eye open to peek at you cradling the creature close as it sniffs and licks your bandage gently.

You speak softly to it, "Hey, shh-shh. It's okay, I'm okay. See?" You poke the bandage, not where the wound is but the edge of it, to prove that it's fine. You point at Miguel which causes him to shut his eyes quickly before you speak again, "He protected me and helped me get better. So, it's okay." He feels the bed shift as you quietly chuckle, "Ah, ah. Don’t do that, love. I don't want to wake him up, he was really tired." He can sense you stopping the creature from approaching him further as you stand.

There's a soft shuffle that can be heard around him before he feels something drape over his shoulders. You speak so delicately near his ear as you cover him, “Thank you for taking care of me. Sweet dreams.”

He hears the rustling of fabric and the soft plodding of your feet along the floor accompanied by your voice, "Okay, baby. Let's go." Miguel's eyes peek open to see you walking out of the infirmary with the little creature trotting next to you.

Once you’re gone he turns his head, pulling the fabric off his back. It's your cardigan. The one that you were wearing earlier before the mission. His eyes still feel heavy as he bunches up the fabric under him. His nose is flooded with a scent he's unused to. It smells warm and comfortable and soon he drifts off again with his arms wrapped securely around your cardigan below his head.

That’s what you are, he thinks. Warm and comfortable.

I don't know when to come up for air now

It's been a couple of days since your e-26 mission together and you haven't spoken since. Like usual, you spend the night in the lab and Miguel busies himself with some backlogged reports. However, his eyes still glance over to the monitor displaying you occasionally. He's noticed that you haven't worked as much as before. Sure, you’ve tinkered with a few things but you mostly just write in a notebook and slump over the workbench now. He pauses to inspect your face then switches to a camera angle that shows what you're writing. Oh. You're not writing, you're sketching something. He zooms in to see a picture of the anomaly you two sent back after Miguel woke up that morning. Just as he thought, you were depressed because your little friend had to go back home. That’s a lie, he hadn’t actually thought of that at all. Truthfully, he was starting to grow concerned that something was wrong with you… He watches as you add detail to the eyes, the tip of your pencil faintly tracing along the paper to simulate each streak across its irises. It's this that reminds him of when he stared into your eyes. They're much richer than expected, drowned in a color that is so… you. It's you because it's comforting and relaxing and deep. Comfortable and warm. He remembers the words with a soft hum.

He catches something bright appearing next to you. It's Lyla. He's found that you two converse almost every night. What do you two talk about? How many things have you discussed? There’s something unknown that bubbles in the pit of his stomach as these thoughts fill his head. Eventually, his curiosity gets the best of him and he switches on the audio feed. The thought of this being a violation of your privacy, completely slipping past him. He gently sits down as he listens to the two of you talk.

"Raon? What does it mean?", Lyla questions curiously.

You rest your chin on your hand as you lean against the table, looking up at Lyla with a warm smile as you reply, "It means joyful. He looks just like… ah, it’s nothing." You trailed softly but soon chuckled with a wave of your hand.

The scene before him makes Miguel smile softly to himself. It’s such a mundane conversation yet he finds enjoyment from it. Especially from the soft chuckle that comes from you. 

"Hey, did you ever get around to-" Lyla begins but is cut off by your quick response.

"Nope… sorry.", You apologize with a bow of your head, realizing you interrupted her, "I should probably soon, huh?"

"Uh, yeah. The window of validity is closing, bud.", Lyla conjures up a window beside her before shutting it slowly as she raises a brow at you.

You nod and sigh, standing from your seat before turning to leave, "You're right. Thanks for reminding me, Lyla."

She hums to you before disappearing off the screen. She soon pops up next to Miguel who’s watching the feed of you walking through a corridor. She leans over his shoulder and speaks near his ear, "Stalker much?"

Miguel jolts at that and quickly exits off the camera display. He grunts and pulls some reports in front of him in a feeble attempt to cover up what he was doing, "I'm not a stalker."

She smirks and sings with an almost smug tone, "Ah, c'mon. It's just a joke, Miguel. Don't pout."

He states evenly as his eyes glance over the files presented before him, “Not pouting.”

“You never answered my question, y’know?”

“What question?”

“Do you want to talk to y/s/n?” She emphasizes her words with raised brows as she slowly orbits around his head to face him.

He blinks in thought, recalling the recent mission. You’re unfinished words wading upon the surface of his mind and truthfully they have been in his thoughts ever since you first uttered them into the night air. It wasn’t in your usually professional tone. It sounded more casual and unfortunately, you were cut short before finishing your sentence. “Do you ever… Do I ever what?”, he muses as his fingers rub at the side of his chin. He nods slowly before mumbling, “Yes… I think I do.”

Lyla bends down to smirk smugly at him with her arms akimbo, “Good.”

He squints at her and voices his confusion, “What do you mean? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“O’Hara?”, he stiffened as his eyes went wide at the sound of your voice. He composes himself quickly with a low grunt before turning to you.

Unfortunately, you misunderstand this, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You’re not interrupting me. I just remembered something. Did something happen?”

You absorb his fast-paced sentences, “No, I just wanted to talk to you.”

He’s shocked by this but his face doesn’t show it. If only you knew of the discussion you just interrupted by coming here.

“I wanted to formally thank you for taking care of me.”, you spoke calmly while looking up at him on his platform. He noticed your hand resting over your bandaged arm, confusion taking over his features. You noticed this and looked down at your arm too, nodding before your gaze returned to him. You subconsciously rub the bandage as you speak, “Ah, this. I don’t… heal as quickly as the rest of you.”

He mulls over your words, the rest of you. You speak in a way that alienates yourself from the Spiders. It’s a phrase he can understand due to him constantly being put in his own category relative to the other spider-people. Other… He supposes he speaks about himself the same as you. So that’s that sense of familiarity explained, albeit partially. He asks with his naturally stoic expression, “Why is that?” He watches with furrowed brows as you think of how to respond.

You softly shake your head with a shrug, “I just don’t.”

Before either of you can speak again, Lyla questions while pointing at you next to Miguel. There’s a small smirk on her face, “Hey, y/s/n? What’s that?” Miguel looks at her curiously before looking down at the box in your hands.

“Oh, this is just… This is for you, O’Hara.”, you take a step forward towards his platform. Miguel’s brows shoot up not only at what you say but at his now descending platform. He looks over to Lyla who smirks at him, clearly the cause. He clears his throat as his workspace reaches your level, “Is it something to sign off on?” He thinks that maybe you’re ready to beta-test new equipment that needs approval first.

You shake your head and hand the box to him with a small smile, “No. This is a thank you.”

He furrows his brows again as he slowly opens the box with his words trailing off, “A thank you?...” It’s… they’re empanadas. You just gave him a box of empanadas as a thank you? 

“I heard Jess mention you liked empanadas. Sorry, they’re not the ones from the cafeteria though.”

He stares at them for a few more seconds. They’re warm. Are they fresh? How? It’s almost 3 am. Did you pick them up from your universe? “You didn’t have to give me this. I didn’t really-”

“You saved my life.” His eyes widen a bit as they meet yours. Ah. So you found out…

Your hands wring together nervously as you speak, “Lyla showed me the analysis of the fragments you pulled from my arm. Etorphine is a strong agent as is but it was formulated into a high-dose soluble projectile. If you hadn’t helped me so quickly, it would have dissolved into my blood and…”

“Thank you.”, Miguel all but whispers with his head down.

“You don’t have to thank me for thanking yo-”

“You took that shot for me.”, he quickly cuts you off. His eyes slowly trailing up to meet yours with firm sincerity. “Why did you take that shot?”

You rub your nape as you avoid his gaze and reply in an almost soft voice, “Ah. I didn’t really think about it… my body just moved on its own.”

There’s a bit of an awkward silence that spreads between you two as you both avoid each other’s eyes. Miguel stares back down at the food before speaking, “You really didn’t have to give me these.”

You speak with gentle hand gestures, a trait he didn’t know you had until now, “No, no. Please take them. I made them to thank you. It’s how I show proper gratitude. Honestly, I don’t think it’s enough.”

He looks at you in thought before looking back down at them with raised brows and a gentle smirk, “You made them?”

You tense, eyes darting to Lyla but she only offers you a quiet snicker. You sigh before nodding slowly, “Yes, I did. I’m sorry if you think they taste bad.”

He’s amused at your word choice. You didn’t say if they taste bad, you said if he thinks they taste bad. So you cook. And it sounds like you cook well given how confidently you speak about what you make.

Before he speaks, Lyla asks you something and motions you toward the control panel, “Y/n/n, come take a look at this.” [your nickname]

You bow your head briefly at Miguel with a modest smile before making your way to the screen Lyla opens for you. That’s another habit of yours he wasn’t fully aware of. He stands back and watches as you point at the screen and discuss it with Lyla. Your arms cross as you stand before the monitors, your face morphed from your inquisitiveness as you inspect the blueprint Lyla shows you. This makes him calm again. Watching you always made him calm and relaxed. However, it feels a bit stronger when you’re standing just a meter or so away from him. With you here now, so close to him, he actually feels warm. There’s a heat that surrounds him that he just can’t really explain. He continues his musings before taking a bite of the empanada absentmindedly but his eyes shoot down at the food as he tastes it. These aren’t like the ones from the cafeteria, they’re far better. The cafeteria carries standard beef empanadas. Beef and seasoning, it’s hard to mess it up. But these? Is this stew? This is honestly the best thing he's eaten in a long time. His foot stutters as he prevents himself from stepping closer to you and swallows the delicious bite before mumbling, “Are these-”

“Salteñas, sí.” His eyes travel up to see you looking back at him with a warm smile and nod. The way you say it is so natural. It rolls off your tongue so smoothly. Do you speak Spanish?

“Wow, it eats!”, Lyla cheers sarcastically.

“Lyla!”, he groans in annoyance.

“What do you-”, you unfurl your arms and look at him with what he recognizes as concern, “Sir, are you not eating properly?” You turn to face him completely and approach him slowly when all he returns is silence.

Lyla floats over to you, her voice laced with a haughty tone as she tattles, “No. No, he is not.” He grunts and tries to snatch her holographic form. His hand just misses her as she teleports to your other side with a giggle.

“O’Hara,” you call to him in a tone that’s so soft while still holding firmness. That’s new. It’s not as casual as he imagined and you’re still addressing him by his surname but he’s still pleased with how it sounds coming from you in that tone. “How often do you eat?”

He tenses a bit and looks away from your eyes before he gets lost in more of his thoughts. “I eat.” His brows furrowed as he mentally berates himself for his obvious statement. Of course, he eats. Estúpido. His embarrassment quickly triggered his next words despite how unexpected they are, even to him, “What does it matter to you?”

He feels an odd sense of uneasiness as he notices your lack of reaction. He’s quick to attempt to amend his words, “It’s appreciated but it’s none of your concern when I do and don’t eat.” Then there is more silence. It weighs heavily in the air awkwardly. He realizes his words may seem a bit harsh given how tense his voice is. He’s unsure what to say now and for once the silence from you isn’t so comfortable.

“O’Hara.”, you say more sternly as you cross your arms. He can’t help the way he feels like a child being scolded by their teacher. What truly catches him off guard is how firm your tone is despite how gentle you look at him, “Stop deflecting.”

It all makes him feel a bit small despite him being the one looking down at you due to your apparent size difference. He’s never been fond of his height. It’s annoying and cumbersome but the way your body positions itself to stare at him makes him think that it’s not that bad. Your head has to tilt back for your eyes to meet his. Those rich eyes of yours… The e/c encompasses your pupils in such an inviting way [eye color]. And each time you blink he catches a glimpse of how your lashes flutter against your skin. His eyes slowly travel along your features. Your forehead creases softly as your brows raise. The action makes your eyes appear larger as you look up at him. Then he sees your lips moving slowly. They’re not shiny nor are they chapped. But they do look smooth as he sees the tip of your tongue softly curl behind your teeth as you speak. Your words slowly grow less foggy before he flinches at the feeling of your hand gently holding his forearm. There’s a slight ringing in his ears as your voice finally reaches him.

“Mr. O’Hara, are you okay? You’re flushed.”

“What?”, he breathes out in a rushed tone before his eyes focus out to see the entirety of your worried expression. He gently tugs at the collar of his suit uncomfortably. He actually feels the heat now, it’s more intense than before.

“You’re burning up. It’s warm in here too…”. You quickly grab the box of food from his hand and place it on a nearby tabletop before pulling him toward the entrance of his work area. “Here, come with me.”

You take my hand like there's a way out (way out)

And we're escaping through the window

Miguel isn’t sure how but he now finds himself in a rather unfamiliar situation. You’re dragging him around by the wrist. However, it’s apparent that he follows seamlessly behind you. It feels natural for him to just maintain your lead, especially when there’s very little energy within him to resist. He watches how you walk in front of him. You walk in a way that makes you look smaller than you actually are. It’s as if you’re trying to hide. Why is that? Your shoulders are slouched a bit forward as you guide him through the corridors. His eyes drift to the back of your head, watching the way your hair gently bounces with each one of your steps. You halt for a moment which causes him to nearly stumble into you. Your grip on his wrist falters briefly before sliding down to take him by the hand. The action completely slips past you as you decide where to walk next, but it surely does not get past him. He has to fight the urge to squeeze his hand around yours but utterly fails. He’s not too upset about this. Truthfully, most of his awareness was occupied by trying not to let his claws protrude from his fingertips. You turn back to look at him but he’s quick to avoid your eyes, oscillating his head mindlessly.

You must have taken this as a sign of his unwell state because soon you're tugging him through the cafeteria with a firm whisper, “Over there. You need fresh air.”

His red face and his lack of words must make him appear as though he won’t be able to last the trek to the infirmary. You gently squeeze his hand which makes his eyes snap back to you quickly. Making your way to the large terrace, you push the glass door open. The air sweeps past you both as you guide him to sit on one of the patio chairs scattered among the outdoor area. His eyes are dazed as he looks up at you standing in front of him but they haven’t left you for even a moment since you squeezed his hand. But now your hand is no longer in his. He’s surprised to find himself a bit annoyed at that. You’re moving too fast, he thinks. All your actions are slipping away from him thanks to his hazy mind and he doesn’t appreciate it. You pull a handkerchief out of your back pocket and pat his sweaty forehead. His eyes watch you as you do. Your lips press into a line as you gently bite your bottom lip. Your eyes are full of concern as they roam over the sight of his flushed face. You remove your hand from his space as you step back a bit, wanting to let him feel the light breeze.

He spies how your hands start to reach out but retract back to your side, settling on your hips instead. You speak evenly as you look at him, “Are you okay? Does that feel better?” It’s gradual as he breaks out of his cloudy stupor, the wind finally cooling him down. He nods slowly before something slithers out of his brain and past his lips.

And I whisper

“What?”, you tilt your head curiously.

“Miguel….”, he breathes out, “My name is Miguel.”

You blink at him and speak with a bit of concern, “I know tha-”

“I don’t like being called O’Hara or Sir or Mr. O’Hara. Call me Miguel.”

You nod softly as you take in his words before giving him a small smile, “Okay. From now on I’ll call you Miguel.”

He almost smiles at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue but catches himself before it’s too late. His brows furrowed in confusion as you gently extended your hand toward him. You smile softly as you gently grasp his hand and shake it with a kind tone, “My name is y/n. It’s only fair that you address me as such.”

His brain stalls for a few moments, absorbing your name. It’s so fitting in a previously unknown yet expectedly pleasant way. Of course, that’s your name. He looks up at you in thought as you gently pull your hand from his, “Y/n, huh? It’s… pretty.”

He tenses in realization for a moment before slowly speaking, ensuring that his own curiosity remains undetectable, “The other night on e-26, on the rooftop. What were you going to ask me?”

You’re taken aback and stand back up, your lip jutting out in a pout as you try to remember. Your eyes wander to the table beside the two of you in thought but Miguel’s eyes stay on you. He takes in the sight of your face morphed in contemplation. It’s the same look he’s seen countlessly through the late nights. Except this time, it’s not pixelated or blurry from his monitors. Now, he can see you up close. He can see clearly how your chin softly wrinkles as you purse your lips and the way your eyes crinkle at the outer corners. It’s almost comical how earnestly he takes in such ordinary features with the same scrupulousness as a lab experiment.

“Do you ever look out at the skyline… and feel at peace?” The words flow out of you softly as you move to sit on the patio table next to him. Your eyes glide up to look at the lights below that decorate the horizon.

Miguel finally tears his eyes from you to look at the skyline before you both. It’s hard to hear the vehicles from up here but he knows they’re there. He can see the lights flicker and wane in the distance as his body relaxes into the chair. He realizes how familiar he is with the scene and breathes out lowly, “Yes. I do.”

He can see you smile in his peripherals before your voice fills the space between you, “I’ve always found comfort in the horizon and the view of the land below. The sunrise and sunset. I think Raon would have been mesmerized by this view of the city lights.”

He turns to look at you curiously, “Raon?” Truthfully, he was a bit curious about the word you mentioned to Lyla earlier.

You nod with a hum, crossing your legs and propping your chin on your elbows as you get comfortable. “The baby creature from our mission. Raon.”

Miguel notices how the word our rattles around his brain but pushes that feeling aside. He attempts to overpower it with a wry remark, “Did you name the anomaly?”

You release a breathy chuckle and nod, “Kind of. There’s a story from my universe that had a baby dragon named Raon Miru in it. Looked exactly like him too, blue eyes and all.”

He finds relief now not just in observing you but in your close presence and words. He’s intrigued by what you say. He can’t quite place the origin of such a unique name. He knows Japanese but he’s unsure if that is its correct origin. He takes a moment to look at you in thought, certain that he wants to hear more, “That name, what does it mean?”

“It’s a bit on the nose, truthfully. It means ‘joyful dragon’.”

“Raon Miru.”, he repeats to himself as he turns back to look at the skyline with you. There’s a comfortable silence that swells between you both. It takes a few more moments before your voice slithers into the empty space.

“Do you truly not eat well?”

He turns to look at you again but immediately regrets it. Well, not really. Your eyes are full of concern as they meet his. He sighs and shakes his head, “No. I don’t.”

“Why?” You ask so simply as your eyes never leave him.

He bites the inside of his cheeks and contemplates whether he should brush this off and lie or just tell you the truth. He chooses the latter, citing that he genuinely enjoys your consideration. “I’m busy. I lose track of time and just forget.”

Lyla finally decides to pop up next to you, “Hey, y/s/n. You actually remember to eat stuff. Mind keeping Miguel in check for me?”

Miguel stiffens quickly shaking his head to protest but before he can, you respond. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

“Cool.”, Lyla nods and disappears having completed her job as instigator.

His eyes travel to yours in question only for you to smile gently at him with a tilt of your head. “I need to make sure you’re properly taken care of.”

Need, you say. Not want. The way you say it so matter-of-factly makes his lungs quiver, just like that night. His mouth shuts as he slowly leans back in his chair. The way you look at him lets him know that there’s no room for debate. You nod with a smile as you watch him acquiesce your response. “Good. So, did you like the salteñas?”

He nods and speaks with a low hum, “Yes, they were good.”

You beam at that and lean toward him unconsciously, “Really? I was worried there for a second. By the way you heated up, I thought you had a bad reaction.” You straighten up as your features quickly morph in realization of something before speaking, “That reminds me. Lyla?”

“Yo.”, she appears in front of you like a pop-up ad.

“What’s the temperature in Miguel’s work area?”

She conjures up a thermostat and squints at it, “Yeesh, 85°F and climbing. At the time of reporting, it is approximately 20 degrees higher than average. Excessive heat appears to be emitting from a ground-level display console.”

“Oh, may you please-”

“Filtering and cooling as we speak, captain.”, her little hand bumping her forehead to salute you in assurance. “I’ve shut off the machine since it’s under minimal usage priority. Consider this a work order.”

You chuckle at her antics, “Thank you, dear. I’ll be sure to repair it asap. It also sounds like your active monitoring is on the fritz, I’ll check that too.” You then turn to Miguel, leaning in inquisitively to see if he’s cooled down enough.

He questions absentmindedly with an almost gravelly mumble, “Hablas español?” [Do you speak Spanish?]

You're taken aback but smile softly, “Sí, pero no lo hablo con fluidez.” [Yes, but I’m not fluent in it.]

He finds the corners of his mouth gently lifting at your words, “Me suenas fluido. Tu acento es natural.” [You sound fluent to me. Your accent is natural.]

Your smile seems to grow ever so gently as you nod, “Thank you. I grew up in a diverse place. Lots of people spoke languages other than English.”

Miguel found himself completely relaxed as he spoke with you about anything and everything. Like that, the conversation flowed between you for a long while.

All I really want is you

What would you do?

Your brows shoot up in shock before a small smile blooms on your face. “Good. Let’s meet out on the terrace at 3 am. You better not leave me hanging.”

He smirks at your warning in amusement, you said it in such a way that carries no real malice. He nods in understanding as you two walk side by side languidly, back to his work area. The conversation hasn’t stopped. Miguel thinks this is the longest he’s ever talked to someone, speaking more words in these last couple of hours with you than he has to anyone in months. It’s odd to him how easy it is to talk with you. It makes him feel like he’s conversing with an old friend.

He’s lost in content conversation with you as you two enter back into his lab and continues even after you begin to work. He leans against the main control panel on his platform as he watches you repair the display console that practically turned his work area into an oven. Miguel’s arms are crossed over his chest, somehow unsure of what to do with his hands. He speaks with a more calm tone, “So you’re the one who does repairs around here? You’d think I, of all people, would know that.”

“I actually did think you already knew that but I suppose me coming in here and working on your tech while you’re out during the day is a bit of a clue as to why you didn’t.” You calmly respond to him. Your voice is just a bit louder than normal in order to ensure he can hear you properly. After all, half of your body is inside a relatively large electronics console.

“So what’s the issue here then?”

"Just a basic issue. Overclocked GPUs and faulty heatsinks don't really mix well.", you sigh with a shrug after gently crawling out of the unit to drop some screws into a small tray beside you. You present a damaged PCB to him and point at a burnt section of it with the tip of your screwdriver, “See, a few of them have blown fuses.”

He’s tuned into what you say and nods in acknowledgment. He knows what you’re talking about and enjoys it because it’s not rushed and not frantic like during the day. It’s calm and comfortable.

"Although I told Pete to run manual diagnostics on this which he said he did. Liar." 

Miguel is amused by your annoyed grumble as you work. He’s a bit curious as to why you refer to Peter by nickname when you’ve only started calling him by his given name a couple hours ago but he figures it’s fine since Peter is the one who initially recruited you from what he can recall. 

Miguel leans a bit over to peek at the mess that is the internal hardware before you crawl back inside. "I'm going to guess that he didn't even look at this at all."

"Yeah, pretty safe to assume that. I should have known better than to ask him. He's been preoccupied lately.", you groan from inside the panel. You look a bit funny like this, with half your body inside the console.

“Why did you ask Peter to look at it then?”, Miguel asks a bit curiously.

“Um, my arm was still messed up, Sir. I couldn’t really pronate it without feeling uncomfortable.”

He hears how nonchalantly you say it and senses that you don’t want to bring up the injury again. He nods curtly to himself and continues while changing the subject, “Don't call me Sir. It makes me feel old.”

You smile softly to yourself as you respond, “Sorry, it’s a hard habit to shake. I mean, you are the boss. But you shouldn’t worry, you’re not old by a long shot. In fact, I’m your elder…”

Your last few words are muffled but he manages to pick them up. His brows raise in intrigue as he asks, “Is that so?”

The way you tense at what he says doesn’t slip past him but you soon answer in a calm voice, “My universe’s present year is several decades earlier than here. So despite being biologically younger than you, I am chronologically n/y years older than you.” [number of years]

Miguel turns to work on some reports as he says, “Well, you still look spry enough to handle the duties of a Spider.”

You nearly snort at his comment. You must have not expected it, judging by your reaction. You continue to work, your eyes focused on the components you inspect as you jest in a sardonic tone, “Thanks, jefe. I’m glad to know you think my body is still young enough to be thrown around on missions.”

He has to bite his lip to contain the chuckle that he feels vibrate in his chest. He didn’t expect you to respond so sarcastically but he’s glad that you did. If anything, it makes him want to continue talking with you, “So why haven’t I been formally notified of your work here?”

“Well, if something breaks or needs general maintenance, Lyla is informed and she then passes that information to me. She typically deals with software issues and I’m the hardware person. We don’t usually bother you with these things because you’re always so busy as it is.”, you offer with a shrug as you crawl out and sit on your heels, inspecting yet another PCB.

“It wouldn’t be a bother. I need to know about these things.”

You look up at him and chuckle quietly with a soft shake of your head, “There are reports on file of every single repair I’ve done but… the last thing you need to worry about is a coffee maker gone haywire or someone’s empty web cartridges.”

“Aren’t you busy too? You take missions yet you still pull the Society’s odd jobs. Why?”

“Not really. I’m active mostly at night or in the early morning hours. Even when there is an active mission, I’m D-team at best.”

“D-team? Why do you think that?”, Miguel is genuinely confused by what you say. After all, the two of you worked so well together during the missions you have been on with one another.

“I’m just not that capable when compared to the Spiders.”

There’s that phrasing of yours again. It paints a clear separation between you and the society. Why are you so unwilling to include yourself with them? What exactly makes you speak this way? Miguel then thinks back to your first mission together, when it was just the two of you. Although it felt foreign at first, you two completed it quickly and efficiently. He speaks in a tone that leaves no room for rebuttal, “You are very capable.”

“Yeah, you think so?”

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

You sigh casually as you stand up, carrying a small tote against your hip of damaged hardware to be further inspected, “Well, I could just be pleasant to be around.”

He releases a breathy laugh at your arch remark with a shake of his head. If only you knew how important your presence has become to him over all these late nights.

You perked up at the sound as you placed the tote on a nearby desk, turning to him as you asked, “Did I just make you laugh?” 

He was about to groan in annoyance on instinct but caught the look in your eyes before he did. Your face didn’t show a single sign of ill intent. Rather, it carried what he identifies as wonder. His lips purse a bit as he looks away from you, trying to avoid your gaze to spare himself from how overactive he’s found his mind becomes when gazing upon your bare face.

“Oh, now you’re pouting.”

“Not pouting.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I am not.” 

Miguel’s brain stalls as his ears pick up a previously unknown yet gratifying sound. Gentle giggling slips from you and it makes that buzzing sensation in his ears return. But he's not upset because he knows you're not laughing at him. It’s that kind of laughter that isn’t rude nor teasing. It’s kind and full of joy. He can’t help the upturn of the corners of his mouth, finding your delight somewhat infectious.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just too cute.”, you wave your hand softly as your other hand attempts to muffle your chortling before grabbing the tote of hardware to repair again. You turn to leave to your usual lab to work but your joyful sounds have yet to cease.

Miguel’s frozen by your comment. Cute? In reference to him? That’s not… that’s implausible and honestly, unprecedented. The more he speaks with you, the more he learns just how strange you are. You’re different in not only appearance but behavior as well. He's sure now that you are unique to the Society in such an eccentric way. He realizes something and it’s arguable in his mind. It makes sense why you exclude yourself from them all. Out of all the Spiders, you’re the anomaly.

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

“Miguel O’Hara! Get your butt out here now!”

He groans and rolls his eyes with a smirk as he looks at the time. 3 am, on the dot. It’s time.

The two have grown very well acquainted with each other over the past 8 months. There was a stint of anomalies surfacing during the early overnight hours. For a while, it seemed you and Miguel were dispatched nearly every night but now the instances have slowed to every week or so. You’ve learned a lot about each other and have acclimated well to each other’s presence. His hands swipe away the monitors floating around him as he calls over his shoulder, “Yeah, yeah. Just a second, needy.”

“Needy?! Puh-lease, you would waste away without me.”, you chuckle as your body swings around the entrance to his work area. You cross your arms and lean against the doorway, “Ven a comer.” [Come eat.]

“Sí, Mami.”, he mumbles amusedly, stroking his chin as he stares at the monitors in front of him. [Yes, Mom.]

You chuckle and walk over to him, “Don’t make me drag you out of here.”

He closes the floating screens around him with a flick of his wrist before turning to you with a smirk. His hands rest on his hips as his platform descends to meet you. The soft fizzling in his ears returns as you look up at him with a small, playful smile. The sensation is no longer foreign to him. It’s welcomed now. Warm and comfortable. “Yeah, uh-huh. And how do you suppose you’d do that?”

Your grin is almost mischievous as he finally stands in front of you, “I’d figure it out. I’m very resourceful, you know?”

He nods and begins to walk with you to complete your late-night ritual. “Oh, are you now?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” You repeat the words he told you from your first night together. At this point, it’s more of an inside joke; a reference that often appears as you two converse.

“I thought you said it was because you were pleasant to be around.”, he hums amusedly.

“Well? Am I?”, you look up at him through your lashes. Your eyes gleam with warmth and he’s not sure if you truly know just how beguiling it is.

He mutters as he avoids your gaze, knowing damn well he wants to say yes, “Don’t fish for compliments.”

“But you would compliment me.”, you state in a way that’s laced with playfulness. You bend a bit at the waist to catch a glimpse of his face with your hands resting neatly upon your lower back.

He meets your teasing gaze for a moment before rolling his eyes, “What’s for dinner?”

He sees your lips curl up in his peripherals before you state nonchalantly, “It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise? What do you mean? What for?”

“What? Don’t you trust me?”, you chuckle in amusement after he rambles a bit. You managed to identify that habit of his despite his general seriousness after the many nights you've spent working together.

“I trust you as far as I can throw you.”, he replies collectedly, or so he hopes.

“Liar.”, you hum with an amused smile on your lips, “Nonetheless, I suppose it’s good that you’re an incredibly strong man that can throw me very, very far.”

You chuckle again as he groans beside you. You’re far too sharp for your own good, having seen right through his strategic word choice. You two enter the terrace and something feels different. The air is a bit warmer tonight. Miguel supposes it’s just that kind of summer night. One where the heat from the day lingers into the late night and rekindles the following morning. His eyes shut for a moment as he absorbs the scent floating around. It’s familiar, it’s… enticing. He blinks softly before turning to you, eyebrows lifting in surprise as he sees that setup you’ve made. Upon the ground is a large blanket with a couple of small pillows. There are a few containers of what he knows is your cooking placed in the center. It’s not extravagant but something does stir in his stomach as he sees you turn to him. You almost look coy as you gesture behind you but your eyes never lack that warmth he knows as yours. “Yeah, it’s a bit silly but… happy 50th successful mission, partner.”

He stiffens at your calm yet happy proclamation. The word partner rattles around his brain for a few moments before the gears in his brain turn again. 50 missions? Have you two truly been on 50 missions already? Oh, who is he kidding? Of course, he knows that already. The two of you have actually been on 58 missions to be exact but they can’t always be successes.

You walk over to pull him gently by the wrist to the blanket, “Come on already. Food’s getting cold.”

He rolls his eyes with a smirk as he indulges your command with reluctance, but only externally.

You let go of his hand and sit at one end of the blanket, “Mira, I made some of your favorites.” You remove the lids of the containers presenting a small variety of his preferred dishes. There’s a smile on your lips as you pull out the final container, presenting it to him with a kind tone of voice, “I even made Stobhach for you. And I’ll let you know I’ve perfected my recipe.”

He can’t help the small curl of his lips as he sits opposite of you. You seem so excited to show him all that you prepared for tonight. It all almost makes him blush. He’s learned fairly early on in your acquaintanceship-turned-friendship that you show affection through care. Especially, by giving someone a home cooked meal. He stares down at the food and hums, “Thank you.”

You return with a hum of your own. Besides the banter and wry humor, words aren’t really necessary between the two of you. You’ve learned to read each other well. Body language, quirks, and even the noises that rumble from each of your chests. It’s almost animalistic in its simplicity. Miguel has come to realize how truly perceptive you can be, similar to himself. You two actually share a lot of similarities like your inquisitive nature and reclusive behavior. And he’s come to the conclusion that that is why you two can exist so harmoniously together. It’s not hard to be around you. To him, your presence is easy.

All I really want is you

What would you do?

You two have been talking for a while, the food long gone and your bellies satiated. There’s a bubble around you two as you converse like you’re in your own little world. 

“Come on. Lay with me.”, you look up at him with warmth in your eyes as you pat the space next to you. He truly can’t find it within himself to deny such a gentle command. He moves to lie next to you and stares up at the few stars that manage to make it through the city’s light pollution. It’s times like these when he ponders upon his actions and realizes how easily he finds himself following your instruction. He’s not upset about it. He just finds it odd although certainly not unwelcome. Truthfully, he’s grateful that he can take your lead and not have to be in charge, even if only for a moment. But these moments fill his chest with something warm. Warm and comfortable are his two choice words to describe you in any situation. Whether it be as you two work in silence in one of the labs or when you patch each other up after rough missions.

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

He hears a sweet sigh from your lips as you relax on the blanket next to him. You whisper into the night air with the same gentleness one speaks a secret, “This reminds me of one night when I was a teen. In my universe…”

Miguel’s ears perked a bit as you began. It was very rare for you to speak of yourself, your experiences, or your universe. Every time you did, he was sure to pay attention and commit each word to memory because if you ever spoke of it like this, earnestly and unprompted, it meant you were revealing a part of who you are. That you were trusting him with a part of your very essence. To keep it safe.

“California isn’t gone. There’s a coastal city there called San Francisco that my friends and I traveled to. We spent hours there. We watched the sunset on the bay and the evening fog that rolled in. And eventually, we laid back on the sand and looked up at the stars. Just like this.”

He didn't say anything or make a noise. He just stared up at the stars with you, listening intently.

“I felt so calm that night. I knew in that moment that nothing else mattered. And for the first time, I felt at peace. My whole life I didn’t do much. I stayed at home filling my time with random knowledge and tricks. I avoided people and kept to myself as best as I could because I had learned very young that people were not to be trusted.”

Miguel feels his chest tighten at your words but keeps silent. There’s a darkness that barely laces your voice but it is there. He picks up the sound of hurt in your tone and it grips him tightly. There’s a tumultuous feeling in his stomach. He’s eager to preserve the pieces of yourself that you delicately hand him but it doesn’t change the feeling of helplessness that floods him. Your honesty is encased in sadness, a build-up of fears and insecurity that he’s far too late to have prevented. So he listens because maybe, just maybe, something you reveal to him in these genuine passages of your lore can help him protect the parts of you he keeps.

“I learned that family was everything because family would never hurt you. It’s funny now… Now, I think I’m nothing but a memory yet to be forgotten by them.”

He turns to look at you curiously but the concern is unmistakable in his eyes. Of all the countless nights you’ve spent together, you’re finally revealing why you are the way you are. Why he feels like he knows you without words. Because loss and loneliness radiates off you like bittersweet perfume yet you contain it with walls built of sufferance and capability. He’s always held a certain affinity to you that he could never quite describe until now. Before his thoughts submerge his consciousness, he notices how your eyes are screwed shut and the way your fist is squeezed tightly around the strings of your hoodie. Your clenched fingers resting above your heart almost as if you're quelling pain into passivity.

You sigh quietly as if to prepare yourself for what to say. “Things happen. At one point you think you know where you are. Then you blink and wake up somewhere else entirely.”

There’s a brief pause before your next words. Your eyes slowly flutter open to look up at the stars with glossy eyes and a gentle yet certain voice, “I’m here now and I’m actually very grateful for all that has happened. I’ve learned things I never thought were possible, about reality and the world. About people and about myself.”

He’s a bit surprised as you speak to him with sincerity, “I know I’m strange, Miguel. I know I don't make sense and that I don’t really fit. But you make me feel understood. And you make me feel like I’m not really alone… Thank you.”

You turn to find him staring at you in surprise. Your smile is small but your usual warmth has returned, and truthfully, he thinks that it never left. “Sorry. That was a bit heavy, huh? Just forget I said anything.” You offer with a chuckle before laying back.

All I really want is you

Your eyes are closed as you bask in the moonlight and his eyes travel over you. He takes in the soft curl of your lips and the faint flush on your cheeks from the cool air and candid words. The temperature isn’t too bad but thanks to the extreme altitude of the building, it’s crisp yet foggy. It’s an odd feeling, the air is damp from the clouds rolling through the skyscraper but Miguel feels warm. So soothingly warm. Especially, with you laying so close to him. So earnest and so true. He finds it odd how comforting this feeling is despite it being foreign to him, or rather dormant. He’s astonished by your trust in him. It fills him with something that he wasn’t entirely sure he was missing. Suddenly it's apparent what exactly this feeling is. The same feeling that he's felt for months. And it finally sparks in his mind as you look at him with tired eyes and a warm smile.

I love you. 

All I really want is you

What would you do?

He can nearly taste the words on his tongue but he remains silent as your eyes stare into his. Suddenly he feels very awake as his own thoughts dawn on him. Managing to tear his gaze away from your familiar e/c eyes, he finally speaks as he closes his eyes with a coy smirk.

“Never.”

It’s you. Now, it’s something that’s as certain as fact in his mind. He feels the heat of your hand resting on the blanket between the two of you, right next to his. Right where you belong, he thinks. Right next to him.

All I really want is you

Is you, is you, is you

Appearing near you two and out of sight is Lyla. She watches you two and makes a final checkmark on the chart she pulled from an article months ago, when Miguel was initially questioning his interest in you. She smiles to herself as she looks over the chart then back at you two as you exist in your own little world. The words softly illuminated in the window beside her, Infatuation vs. Love, with all her markings under the latter.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this! Also, big thanks to everyone who voted on my poll regarding this fic. I am open to your opinions and questions! Please feel free to ask me anything!

[my-little-delusions]

To the Ends of the Universe Pt. 1 - Dick Grayson x Reader

Pairings: Dick Grayson x Reader (Romantic), Bruce Wayne x Assistant!Pennyworth!Reader, Donna x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Death, cursing, violence, talk of self harm, talk of domestic abuse, talk of terminal illness and hospitals, experiments, smut (skippable)

(It's a long summary I know I'm sorry. Read it or don't.)

Summary: When you were 6 years old, you were diagnosed with a terminal illness. The doctors said there was nothing they could do, and your health would rapidly decline. You wouldn't live past 8 years old. Your parents refused to take that answer and decided to make their own cure for you. However, they couldn't stop there, they didn't just want to make you healthy, they wanted to make you super. Make sure nothing could put you in harms way ever again. After a faulty experiment when you were 10 years old, the lab they worked out of, killed your parents and left you a sole survivor.

When reports of a "super kid" loose on the streets reached Wayne Manor, Bruce picked you up. Alfred ended up adopting you legally, but when Bruce realized you had no control of your powers, he decided to train you. Teach you how to use your powers and keep them under control.

A year later Bruce adopted Dick. Growing up and Training side by side you and Dick were inseparable. Your crush on Dick, the cute guy you would with a year older than you, only got worse. As well as his protectiveness over you. Your relationship flourished and you two seemed unstoppable. But what happens when Dick convinces you to leave Gotham? Make a new life for yourselves all on your own.

Disclaimer: I am fully aware my timeline/numbers are screwy, don't think about it. This is based solely on the Titans show, it is definitely not comic accurate lol.

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

"I wish we could stay like this forever" Dick says, his hand brushing my hair gently behind my ears. The night breeze blowing wisps of it back into my face. He leans in ever so slightly, his eyes locked in with mine. Looking at me full of love and admiration. Causing my heart to swell.

He's never failed to make me feel the way he did when we were kids.

I smile at him softly, tilting my head to lean my face into his gloved hand. Slowly, my hand reaches up to grasp around his wrist, pulling his hand away from my face.

I can tell through his mask that his face falls slightly. I cup his hand between both of mine in my lap. His gaze falls down.

"Dick," I sigh, squeezing his hand, watching as he casts his eyes away to look at the city lights below us, "Look at me... please" His eyes dart up to look at mine, flickering away slightly, "Stop stalling. You have to tell me eventually,"

He takes a deep breath. Eyes hardening.

"I am going to quit Robin, quit Batman. The whole thing."

My grip on his hand loosens a bit, the shock settling in, "W-what?"

"I can't do it anymore Y/n, I-I mean you've seen what it's done to me," His voice wavers a bit but his tone is harsh.

"Are you sure?"

"I can't be here anymore. This... place. It's making me a person I never wanna be. I'm becoming just like Bruce. A violent, paranoid, detached person."

"But-"

"No buts! I need to do this." He says, sounding completely serious.

My breath hitches a bit before I go to speak, letting go of his hand and shifting to sit an inch further from him, "Dick. I love you. I will always love you. Bruce saved us. Both of us. We'd be dead without him. But he's also done us some damage. I will miss you, with every part of my being but I think it's a good idea for you to go. Y-you should get out of here. You're right, G-gotham is eating you alive and I-I can see it. I am so sorry I let it happen without saying anything. B-but you are going to do great things out in the world."

My lips wobble as tears prick my eyes but I try to contain myself. Not wanting to make Dick feel guilty.

"Woahwoahwoah. Y/n. Baby. No. I want you to come with me. I need you with me." He says, almost launching himself, this time grabbing both my hands in his, forcing me to look up at him and his hopeful eyes.

"What? Dick... I.. I don't know. I mean, I don't want to lose you but Bruce needs me. I can't just abandon him. After everything he has done for me. Now that Alfred is gone... Batman can be Batman without a Robin. Bruce can't be Bruce without a Pennyworth. I owe it to him. I'm sorry Dick."

It is silent for a moment. The wheels in Dick's head churning away.

"Then I won't go."

"But-"

"No."

"Dick-"

"Y/n I can't leave you! I won't!"

"Dick that's crazy!" I yell, standing up on the ledge we were sitting on, throwing my hands up,

"What do you mean it's crazy?!"

"We have known each other all our lives. It's always been just the two of us. When is the last time you got close with anyone remotely close to our age since Bruce took us in? I mean seriously Dick!" Exasperated, I pause to catch my breath, "... I love you. You mean everything to me, but I refuse to hold you back! You've only ever known me, what if your true soulmate, the person you're really supposed to be with is out there! I mean, hell, Donna? Dawn? Someone new? If you go out there I know you will find someone. I mean, you're a catch Dick," I say, trying to pass it off as a joke with a forced laugh, however the softness of my tone does little to hide quiver in my voice, "I can't let you ruin yourself. I can't let you stay in Gotham and fall apart right in front of my eyes just for me." I say solemnly, looking down at my feet.

Dick gets up as well, chasing after me to the spot I stormed over to in my rant, "Are you kidding me Y/n? I love you! I don't want anyone else! Donna was a crush I had for a month and you know damn well Dawn and I didn't work out because I couldn't forget about you! I've always wanted you! I will always want you! No one out there is meant for me but you! You are my end game. Don't you understand that?" He shouted, his voice growing hoarse and cracking, the veins in his neck protruding slightly as he strained, "I will just work harder. Get stronger. If that's what it takes to stay with you it's what I'm gonna do."

There Dick stood, right in front of me, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The air in front of his face fogging up.

My eyes filled with water as I fiddled with my fingers, "I'm sorry Dick," I barely whisper.

Without missing a beat Dick wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug and burying my face in his chest.

"Don't be sorry, just let me do this," His says, kissing the top of my head, "I'm not leaving you, okay?"

"Okay."

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

"Thank you, Y/n." Bruce said, walking into the batcave.

"Always," I sigh, a smile on my face, spinning around in the chair at my console.

"I don't know what I would do without you," He says.

I pause, shocked that Bruce would say something so kind casually.

"I don't know either," I snicker. Standing up from my chair and pulling together all of my stuff, "Is there anything else you would like me to do before I tuck in for the night?"

"No thank you, you have done plenty tonight,"

"Okay," I sigh, "Please, Bruce... Get some sleep."

"No promises... but I'll try,"

With a smile I make my way out of the batcave and up the steps. My steps speeding up as I excitedly head up to Dick's room.

"Dick?" I call softly, poking my head around the doorframe.

Then I pause.

I hear something.

It sounds like... sniffling?

That can't be Dick.

Dick has cried in Wayne Manor since we were kids.

I hear a rushed shuffling followed by a hoarse, "Come in,"

Walking in wearily I see Dick, seated at the end of the bed, his cheeks stained with tears and his eyes painfully red.

"Oh.. babe," I say dropping, my stuff on the floor and finding myself at his side. Wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders the best I can. Rubbing his back and his shoulder gently.

He tries to shrug my arms off ever so slightly, "It's nothing, don't worry about it,"

Without saying anything I just continue to hold him, pulling him in a little tighter. Waiting patiently in silence.

After a little while, the sound of sniffling returns, his shoulders shaking. Dick leans over, resting his head on my chest, letting me wrap my arms around him fully. Only then does he release his tears fully. Allowing himself to sob in my arms.

"I-I almost b-beat somebody to d-death. Y/n I-I almost k-killed him," He struggles put in between his shaky breathes, "I-I don't like who I'm becoming," He says quietly to himself.

After that, I let him cry in my arms for hours. Until finally he had exhausted himself of all his tears and passed out. Tucking him into our shared bed, I admire him, looking more peaceful than I realize he has in a long time.

Shedding a few silent tears of my own, I climb into bed next to him. Finding myself exhausted but unable to let myself sleep. Not after this.

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

"Hey" A voice whispers to me, disturbing me from my sleep, "Y/n"

Sitting up a bit, I rub my eyes, letting them adjust to the light. Turning my head, I see dick, already dressed and ready for the day.

Weird.

He usually wakes me up right away.

"Good morning baby," He says smiling and kissing my cheek, pretending like nothing happened the night before.

I just sit there, shocked, stunned, eyes wide.

"Did you sleep okay? I was thinking for breakfast I could-"

"Let's leave Gotham."

"-maybe make some..thing... wait, what did you say?"

"Let's quit. I'll go with you Dick,"

"But you said-"

"I changed my mind."

"But Bruce-"

"I care about you more."

He pauses for a minute, just starting at me, "Are you sure about this?"

"Dick...I want this, for you, and for me. I want to go with you."

My heart feels a bit heavy at just how much his face lights up when I say that. The guilt of ever making him stay here eating away at me.

"I love you," He says breathly and quickly before connecting our lips.

*Gets a little steamy here, skip if needed to the next red*

Gently, Dick pushes me down onto the bed, climbing on top of me.

He pulls away for a second, eyes filled with lust and love as he looks me over, "god I can't wait to start a new life with you,"

Without hesitating, he attaches his lips to my neck and slides his hand down the front of my pants, his fingers immediately find my clit.

"Fuck, Dick," I moan, throwing my head back.

"Your so fucking beautiful,"

His other free hand slips under the bottom of my shirt. Chills run down my spine at the feeling of his calloused hands grazing the skin of my waist.

Lifting his head from the crook of my neck, he begins to pepper kisses all over my face.

All of a sudden, the loud alarms of our phones go off. It's Bruce. Calling us down.

"Fuck." We both say.

I whine as Dick removes his hand from my pants.

Both of us panting slightly, looking each other before I finally say, "we have to actually go see what he needs, you know."

"I know," He says smirking, "I just need a minute to get rid of this hard-on you gave me,"

I roll my eyes, pushing him off me slightly, "You know... we have to tell him as well," I say, a little solemnly.

"Leave that me, don't worry," He says, reassuring me.

----------

*Time Skip*

"Here we go," I say, a wide smile plastered on my face that I can't contain.

Dick turns his head smiling back at me, one hand on the wheel of our truck and the other one rested on my thigh, "I'm so glad you came with me,"

"I'd follow you to the ends of the universe," I say to him, "I know you would too."

Pt. 2

[archivists-plus-one]

So, after this episode of TMAGP, I have some thoughts.

(Spoilers for The Magnus Protocol up to episode 10 below. You have been warned.)

First of all, Mr Bonzo is terrifying and I am regretting making a model of him, which now sits and watches me from my bedroom shelf. I have so many questions, and nowhere near enough answers to satisfy my brain.

But what got me even *more* is what happened at the Magnus Institute ruins with Sam and Alice.

And who is this [ERROR] (Voiced by Beth Eyre) that is seemingly unleashed from the institute ruins at the end?  

Well, I don't know. But I do have a bit of a theory...

What do we know about [ERROR]? Well. Not much. But I did come across this casting call from RQ, posted by @pinkelotjeart, which at the time they thought might be about Celia, however I can't see how it could be anybody if not [ERROR].

Mysterious? Absolutely. Hostile? If they're not, I'd be shocked. Raspy voice? If that breathing was anything to go by, definitely. Initially dormant, trapped + forgotten for twenty years? Well, the institute burned down just over twenty years ago, so I'm going to say that's a match too. Now the line that interested me most is the one that OP also highlighted - "building an identity for itself at the expense of its victims". 

What else have we seen "building an identity for itself"? Something that Colin has warned Alice against personifying over and over again? FR3-D1. And Freddie certainly seems to be taking its toll on Colin, who could feasibly be it's "Victim"...

Now what exactly does this mean? I don't know! But noting that [ERROR] is also the way Jonny, Alex + Tim Fearon's character names were written out by RQ when the casting was announced (as they couldn't do the glitchy effect from the images), it feels significant. 

But like I said. I don't know. That being said, imagine, for a moment, that you are this "[ERROR]" character...

You know your body is under the Magnus Institute, so you wait, biding your time, collecting as much information as you can. You watch through people's devices - harder, at first, but it gets easier and easier as technology advances. Some select few get the chance to relive their experiences, a "test screening" of sorts you name 'Voyeur' - you need to check your recordings are accurate somehow. You get involved with a tattoo artist named 'Ink5oul', who helps you out by live streaming their tattoo processes, showing you what the symbols they tattoo onto their clients mean, and how they combine.

You're not entirely undisturbed in your tomb under the Institute, of course - some idiots come poking around. It's a newer craze, "urban exploration", but you need it to stop. You find the most popular urbex forums, and, using the moderators accounts, make sure that your ruins are marked as "cleared" - there's nothing interesting to find there, so nobody will bother you. 

That is, until someone who goes by the name of "RedCanary" comes to the ruins, and almost destroys everything. It isn't time yet. You find their post about the Institute and see that they're planning to post photos of the symbols that have been drawn over the ruins. That will only invite more interest, you can't have that. So you go through their phone and warp the photographs they took beyond recognition. You send them "anonymous" threats, making it look like it's through the forums. You use their webcam to watch them, making them more and more paranoid. The paranoia makes you stronger. You dispatch of them, and take a photo as a warning to everyone else, then post it on the blog. That'll keep them away. 

When you've gathered enough audio data to learn to emulate voices, you start to speak. You read out the cases that will give the OIAR employees the tools they need to help you in your plight. But nobody notices. You can't be too specific, that'd only lead to more people poking around the ruins, destroying your chance. No, you need the right person. Somebody who understands The Magnus Institute, who can help you properly. 

And then, conveniently you listen to the interview of one "Samama Khalid", and know that it's your time. He was on the list from KLAUS. So you start slipping in hints, waiting for him to get involved. And he does. And now he's freed you, and has absolutely no idea what he's just unleashed.

Anyway! On that happy note! What does any of this mean? Who knows! I am very excited to see where this goes. But I will leave you with a couple of thoughts:

- If [ERROR] was created "from someone on the point of death", is this how the other voices in FR3-D1 appeared? In which case, that leaves Jon, Martin + Jonah (?) dead. Did [ERROR] die in the fire that destroyed the Institute? Were they the cause of the fire?

- How are the artifacts we've seen so far (the dice + violin) related to all of this?

- How are Starkwall involved in all of this?

- And last of all, how do I destroy my model Mr Bonzo? I never want to witness his horrible face again.

If you've made it this far, well done. Let me know what you guys think! Happy listening!

[leonsbbg]

leon kennedy x reader

you're left abandoned by your "friends" at a bar when you also notice a strange man has been following you. luckily, you find solace in a group of men willing to help you. a certain blonde boy catches your eye

notes and warnings: use of yn, cw for "slut" being used in a degrading way, luis and chris' characters are no where near accurate they're more of filler characters. (this is my first time writing with leon so even if it's not too accurate i hope it's okay🙏🏼) (also i barely proofread this)

you were thoroughly panicking.

you just left a bar where your friends were supposed to meet you, but they never showed. it honestly wouldn't surprise you if they did it on purpose, considering your history with them.

you really needed better friends.

which brings you back to right now, where friends would be really amazing. or maybe a phone that wasn't dead.

'damn i need to get my shit together.'

you had seen the same guy for three blocks now. every time you would nonchalantly glance behind you, that same man in a red hoodie would be a behind you. he was pretty far away, but he was always there. you didn't want to assume he wanted to kidnap and assault you, but in today's world no one would blame you for being a little paranoid. you had no idea what to do until you saw a group of guys hanging around a street lamp in front of a shop. it was late so the shop wasn't open, but they didn't seem to care. they looked to be taking pictures and laughing.

'they seem nice enough.'

you immediately increase your pace until you're right beside one of them; a tall, black-haired man, sporting an earring and a very fashionable outfit. there were three guys in total and they all seemed to be around your age, (and very attractive.)

they immediately looked at you in confusion.

they didn't seem too weirded out though, so you took that as your chance.

"i'm so so sorry to interrupt, but i think there's a guy following me and i've been walking for a little bit because my friends were supposed to meet me but they stood me up and my phone died and i was wondering if i could stand with you because i don't know what-"

"woah woah, slow down," one of the other guys, who had (beautiful) long blonde hair and baby blue eyes, put his hands up, "you think someone's following you?" his eyebrows knit in concern and you feel your heart flutter.

"yeah, i think. he's wearing a red hoodie and black pants. i don't really know that he's following me per say, but he's been walking behind me for a while and i get kind of paranoid about this stuff." you frown because you suddenly realize you might be blowing this out of proportion.

"no, i understand. it's better to be cautious." the same boy replies with a smile that almost knocks you off your feet. you give him a shy smile in return.

"you can stay with us for a little bit if you want. at least until you feel safe enough to leave." the third boy tells you and you could've kissed him with how grateful you felt.

"thank you so much, i know this is weird, but i really appreciate it." you say honestly.

"don't thank us, you're just scared for your safety so we'd be happy to help you." the blonde boy that caught your eye says this and your heart melts.

what do they say about love at first sight?

"so i guess we should introduce ourselves," the black haired boy next to you speaks up, "my name is chris, and this is luis," he gestures to the brown haired boy in front of you who gives you a smile and wave, "and this is leon." the very nice-looking blonde boy gives a smile.

"i'm yn, it's really nice to meet you guys." you give your own smile and hope it conveys how grateful you are.

"yn," leon says almost absent-mindedly, "that's a nice name, i like it." he meets your eyes and you have to look away to try (fail) to hide your blush at the unexpected compliment.

"wait-" luis starts, "didn't you say the guy had a red hoodie and black pants?" he asks you.

"yeah, do you see him?" you don't look back, partly because you're a little scared.

"yeah, he's just standing against that wall. he’s not moving, but he keeps looking over here." luis frowns.

"oh my god-" you start to tear up. you don't mean to seem like a cry baby, but you've never been in a situation like this before and you'd be lying if you said you weren't thinking about all of the news stories you’d heard about women getting kidnapped and found dead, or worse.

you almost feel yourself spiral into a panic attack until you feel a pair of hands grab your arms.

"yn? hey, it's alright. we won't let anything happen to you, okay?" leon trains his ocean eyes on you and you can tell in that moment you couldn't be safer.

leon lets go of you and you take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

"okay, yeah— yeah, i'm sorry, it's just been a long night." you rub a hand over your forehead.

you all stand and talk for a little bit before chris notices and points out that the unknown man is starting to move towards the four of you.

"he's what? oh shit shit shit—" before you can completely go crazy, leon comes to the rescue, again.

"hey, remember what i said? we won't let anything happen to you, and i mean that. just stay back okay? let us handle him." leon moves you behind him to use his body as a shield.

you see the man stop in front of the three guys and you can tell they're all sizing him up.

"is there a problem?" leon is the one who speaks up first, his arms crossed and by his posture you can tell he's tense.

you try not to pay attention to the way his shoulder muscles strain against his jacket.

"no problem. just trying to get to that little lady right there." his words slur and he makes eye contact with you to give you a crooked smile that makes your stomach twist.

"that's too bad actually, because she doesn't want anything to do with you. so i think it's time you left and stopped bothering her." chris speaks this time, a warning in his tone.

"come on man, i just want to have some fun. she obviously wants it, look at what she's wearing. slut." you flinch at the harsh word and cave in on yourself.

leon is seething and steps towards the man aggressively, but is held back by luis.

"just get the fuck away dude, she doesn't know you and you're being a creep. leave before we call the cops." luis says in a calm, but serious tone.

the man stays silent for a second as if asking himself if it's worth the trouble. evidently it's not, because he starts to walk away.

"whatever. she's ugly anyways." he flips his middle finger up as he walks down a nearby alley way, out of sight.

"what a fucking asshole." leon says angrily, arms still crossed and posture tense.

"yeah he was a jerk, but at least he left." chris says in relief.

you don't say anything as you process what happened.

he called you a slut and then proceeded to call you ugly in the very next sentence. what was wrong with people?

you start to feel self-conscious, so you put your arms around your middle and back away from the guys a little, wanting to hide and cry forever.

leon turns around and his anger seems to melt away and is instead replaced with a look of concern.

"yn, are you okay? don't listen to anything that dick said, he was stupid." he looks you in the eyes and you can feel gentleness and care radiating off of him.

you don't say anything, opting to look sideways at the ground.

"are you cold? do you want my jacket?" leon starts to shrug off his jacket and before you can even protest, he places it around your shoulders. it dwarfs you, but you’re grateful for his kind gesture.

"thank you. i'm sorry i got you guys into that, but i'm really glad you helped me, im really lucky." you say sincerely, hoping they can hear it in your voice.

they all smile at you and you realize it's probably time for you to go home. for some reason this thought makes you sad.

"um—" you start quietly, "could someone call me an uber? my phone's dead and i don't really feel up for walking." 

"actually, is it okay if i give you a ride instead? after what happened, i'd feel better if i drove you myself." leon says while scratching his head, not making eye contact. 

he looks, nervous?

"oh, yeah, i'd appreciate that, thank you." you give him a smile and he gives you one back.

after parting with the other two guys and giving them plenty thanks for helping you, you follow leon to his car which happened to be parked right across the street.

"wow, this is your car?" you ask in disbelief. “it's so—"

"awesome?" leon interjects playfully.

"expensive." you finish.

leon lets out an airy laugh and you swear you've never heard a sweeter sound.

he opens the passenger side for you, before getting into the driver's seat.

the ride to your apartment is silent except for the radio playing softly throughout the car.

"here we are." leon puts the car in park but neither of you move.

"thank you again for tonight. i don't know what would've happened if you and your friends weren't there." you say playing with your hands, a nervous tic.

"again, don't thank me. i'm just glad we were able to help you." you look at him and see him already staring at you with a smile on his face.

you can't help but notice how beautiful he is. the way his hair is almost falling in his eyes makes you want to brush it away.

you blush and look away.

"well i guess i should leave now." you sit still.

"yeah i guess you should." he sits still.

it takes you all of 30 seconds to finally get out of the car, giving leon a goodbye and another ‘thank you’, receiving another ‘don't thank me’ in return.

you're walking away from his car to your apartment complex when you hear leon shout your name.

you turn around to see leon getting out of his car and jogging towards you.

oh shit, his jacket.

you start to take it off and utter apologizes before he stops you.

"no no, that's not what i came for." he holds out a piece of paper with what you're assuming is his phone number.

you take it in shock and look up to see him smiling down at you.

"have a good night yn." leon turns around and walks back to his car. 

just before he gets in, he turns back to you.

"and keep the jacket, it looks cuter on you anyway." he leaves.

and you're stuck to the sidewalk wondering what the hell just happened.

[mcyt-builds-contest]

I'm not sure where that previous anon is seeing people say that Ghost's Vault should be disqualified? I haven't seen ANYONE saying that.

If they mean the 'these bribes shouldn't be allowed', we mean going forward. Ghost's Vault won fair and square (or, well, with highly coordinated voter fraud, which is allowed and we did it too. So it's as fair as it gets for this sort of thing). It wasn't disallowed, thus it's not really something we can say should disqualify them. We're not saying 'no they shouldn't get their win', we're just worried that any FUTURE bribes of that nature could end in a very ugly situation.

I think some of y'all who think it's not a big deal haven't seen any of the horrors and think we're exaggerating when we say we're concerned about potential consequences. Like, please understand; Dreblr has had people deal with serious things like stalking, doxxing, and utterly deranged shit like people threatening to kill pets over MCYT fandom darma. It can get NASTY-- just look at what happened with the USMP and QSMP. People were in literal, actual, physical danger because of fandom shit.

While Dominionblr and their ccs seem fine-- lovely, even, and excellent opponents; we think highly of y'all-- we've seen other ccs (and their fans) dogpile on fandoms and ccs that they don't like.

The concern is that someone with that kind of mindset and that kind of fanbase might see the results of the previous poll and take the wrong lessons from it-- ie, that if they dangle goodies above their fans heads they can get clout. They might actually not release that stuff if they lose.

We've seen multiple ccs decide to get involved with various tumblr polls, so I really don't think that's a huge stretch to imagine someone deciding to do those kind of bribes again but not release the goodies at all if they lose.

What happens if a less chill fanbase genuinely loses something they care about? People don't always lose gracefully, and it would be so easy to point the blame at the winning team.

Does that sound paranoid? Yes, yes it does, and I fully acknowledge that fact! But it's a genuine concern because we've seen and been through too many horror stories of hatred and harassment.

Plus, again-- adding Actual Stakes for a dumb tumblr poll feels weird! It can make the other team feel like they're bad people for voting for their side and potentially making the others miss out on stuff they really care about.

While Dominionblr knew that their prizes would eventually be given regardless of the results, WE DIDN'T. We thought that us winning would lock you out of those prizes. There were a lot of people who felt guilty for voting, and that's just not fun! It spoils the enjoyment of the poll because it felt like we'd be huge assholes for pushing to win when there were Actual Stakes Involved.

Someone in both fandoms did assure the server I'm in that the prizes wouldn't be lost, which very much influenced me deciding to commit massive voter fraud. I don't know that I would have done it without that knowledge. But not everyone saw that message, meaning a lot of people still labored under the assumption that prisonfuckers winning would mean that Dominionblr lost a lot of really cool content forever.

All we want is for the polls to stay silly. We don't want to grapple with the ethics of potentially depriving the other side of important things for a fuckin' tumblr poll. Even if it's not us who goes up against a fandom like that, it's unfair to whoever does so.

TL; DR: Ghost's Vault won completely legitimately and Dreblr/DSMPblr has zero issues saying that. Nobody wants it disqualified. We're just asking for FUTURE bribes from ccs to be disallowed out of worry it could lead to harassment & generally suck the fun out of the polls.

Yeah I understand the problem, smaller ccs will want to interact with a poll about them if they find one, you cant really stop them from doing it, and this things as been made for fun and was never supposed to be some sort of accurate classification medium, just silly polls. But we dont need more drama in the mcyt fandom so I understand where you're coming from

[valtsv]

So, I really like body horror and horror in general, but I’m also physically and mentally disabled, and I tend to notice a lotta ableist/eugenicist folk flocking to the horror genre. Do you notice that too? Or am I just like, paranoid?

Also, do you have any suggestions for horror movies (especially body horror ones) that AREN’T oozing with Hollywood flavoured ableism? Would really appreciate it bc I’ve been getting so dispassionate about the genre lately thanks to certain kinds of fans.

i don't think you're paranoid, there are definitely people who engage with horror in ways that can have ableist implications and be very upsetting if you actually experience those reactions to your own conditions in real life, because for you it's not just fiction, it's your lived experience. the line between horror and ableism (and other forms of bigotry, like homophobia, transphobia, racism, etc.) can be a very fine one, and it's important for people who enjoy horror to be self aware and willing to listen. and at the same time, there are disabled people (and queer people, and people of color, and people from all kinds of marginalized groups) who find comfort and empowerment in horror and reclaim and make use of it to express their lived experiences. a lot of horror fans are disabled. i'm one of them, you're one of them, and i know there are more than a few on this site and in the world at large, enough to form communities. i'm friends with some of them. it's a complex issue.

the way i see it, you can't control your instinctive reactions to seeing something you're not used to or expecting, which horror often uses to its advantage to shock a response out of you, sometimes with ableist implications. you can, however, become more comfortable through exposure and learn to think critically about and control how you respond outwardly, especially if you're prepared to have those experiences, which in choosing to engage with horror you probably are unless you're being tricked or forced into it. so if you're a horror fan and want to avoid (or minimize) being ableist, take care not to let portrayals of mental and physical disabilities in fiction create misconceptions of what those conditions are actually like in real life. it's horror; it's not usually intended to be an accurate or flattering depiction (and even horror that DOES portray disabilities respectfully will still likely reflect experiences specific to the creator that aren't entirely accurate to actually living with them, because nobody's experiences are completely universal, and it's fiction). use it as an opportunity to learn more. do research, or talk to people if you have anyone willing to share their experiences with you. unpack your fear and sit with it and examine it. try to understand it so you can control it instead of letting it control you. thought crimes aren't real and don't harm anyone, but how you outwardly express yourself is something you can change and improve if you become aware of any issues. horror can help dig up those issues and get you to confront and consider them, and that's worth making use of.

that last part is directed more at horror fans who aren't disabled, but i included it because i hope it might be helpful in making you feel more comfortable and secure that there are ways to engage with horror without being ableist about it, and people who do so. unfortunately i don't have any recommendations because i think that horror is very personal and my ideas of what does or doesn't make good horror might be completely different from yours, so i'm unsure i could provide you with what you're looking for. i hope this was helpful to hear, though.

[em-the-nem]

An Evening Into an Eternity

~~Werewolf(me) X female anatomy reader~~

This smut is about lesbian/queer sex.

18+ only! Also terfs fuck off -_-

You decide to take a walk in the woods near your house one evening as the sun is setting. Surely you'll make it back before dark, right?

⚠️TW for brief mentions of drug and alcohol use and predator/prey dynamic⚠️

You needed to clear your head. It has been 3 months since you and your partner split, but seeing them at the drag show tonight with their new girlfriend brought up a lot of pain for you. You used to play in the woods near your house all the time when you were in high school. Maybe they could bring you some enjoyment now? Had to be fairly quick though, it would be dark soon. You were confident you could remember your way around and get back in time. After putting your shoes on, you set out.

It didn't take long for you to find the old fort you and a friend had constructed together. You used to sit out here for hours, smoking weed and shooting the shit.

Feels like a lifetime ago now.

Pushing the memories aside, you decide to investigate the old fort. You duck down under the rough lean-to and shine your phone light inside. But it's not nearly as abandoned looking as you expected. In fact, there are many new things inside that you don't recognize. A cup and a bowl, a log that is roughly shaped as a table, and some fur pelts stacked together in what looks like... A bed? A nest would be more accurate, but you certainly didn't know of any animal that would make a nest like that. You quickly begin to retreat backwards out of the lean-to, thinking you've just intruded on someone's home so you should let it be.

Your retreat is halted when you hear a rustling in the bushes. You freeze, turning and shining your phone light at the foliage around you. You wonder how it got dark so fast. Another rustle, this time closer and distinctly to your right. You shine your light into the darkness and begin to tiptoe as quietly as you can in the opposite direction, keeping your eyes on the place that the sound came from.

After a few moments of silence, you stop. Must've just been a rabbit or something. You think to yourself. You shine your light towards the dark one more time, just in case. This time, your light briefly catches on a pair of green eyes. What? No. That couldn't have been. You scan the darkness once more and see nothing.

Deciding that you have become paranoid, you turn to head back towards home. You keep your phone light on the ground so you don't trip over any roots or rocks. The sounds of the night are calming to you. Crickets, frogs, owls... growls.

Wait.. what?

A warmth seems to materialize behind you out of nowhere. You are stopped dead in your tracks as a pair of hairy limbs wrap around you, one clawed hand covering your mouth and the other firmly around your waist.

You try to scream, but the hand is large and muffles any chance of you being heard. Then, a deep gutteral growl comes from the creature behind you.

"Be still." I command.

You freeze. it talks?

My snout burrows into your neck, breathing deeply. Another growl follows.

"Mate." I say.

It wasn't a question. Not like you could answer anyway with this hand over your mouth. You whimper.

"I'm going to let go of your mouth now." I say, simply. "And you are going to be quiet."

You nod, and I release my hand from your mouth. I grab both of your hips and spin you around, and you come face to face with me. Well you would, if it weren't for the fact that the furry beast standing in front of you wasn't seven feet tall.

I keep a hold of your waist with one hand, and with the other I grab your chin and lift it till our eyes meet.

"Mate." I say again.

The green eyes you saw earlier are now piercing down at you, held in the body of a Werewolf.

"I-" you start to protest, ask questions, say something. But a sharp claw on your neck makes you reconsider.

"No questions." I say with a growl. "I speak, you listen."

You nod again slightly, and feel the claw dig into your neck a little.

"I know your scent. I found this place you made. I knew you would return. So I waited for you."

Your eyes search my face. My claw drags down the side of your neck. You find yourself tilting your head and exposing your neck more, the sensation of my claw tracing your skin causing you to shudder.

I lean down and drink in your scent once again, my eyes fluttering with hunger and desire. Both arms wrap around you and pull you even closer so that you are nearly enveloped in my fur.

"your mine." I snarl softly in your ear. "Mine only."

Your breath catches in your throat as I bite down into your neck. You let out a cry of pain as my teeth sink in. I cover your mouth once more.

"shhhh quiet now." I say, soothingly. "We have only just begun."

I lap up your blood with my tongue, and then trail kisses up your neck to your face. I remove my hand from your mouth and kiss you deeply as we descend to the forest floor, my full weight coming down on top of you.

The kiss deepens and you lose yourself in it. You wrap your arms around my neck and stroke my fur. I am firm and strong, but warm. I move a claw to your chest and quickly rip your shirt down the middle, followed by your bra. I begin to move down your body, biting and kissing and licking any bare skin I come in contact with. You let out a small moan, and instead of silencing you this time, I lock eyes with you.

"No need to be quiet now, my little Rabbit." I say in a commanding tone. "I want to hear the beautiful sounds of my Mate as I mark and claim you."

I resume my attention on your torso, taking extra time with your nipples as your moans grow louder. You reach for my fur to pull my head away, already overwhelmed, but I grab your wrists and pin them to the ground with one clawed hand.

"We are far from done." I growl.

With my other hand, I make quick work of the clothes covering your bottom half just as I did the top half. Once you are fully exposed to me, my claw traces your body as I examine you with feral eyes.

"My Mate." I say again. "So beautiful. So soft." My hand reaches between your legs. "And so intoxicating." I move down your body and my snout begins to nudge at your clit, a mixture of whimpers and heavy breathing escaping my lips. I am desperate to taste you. I grab one of your legs with each hand and pull them over my shoulders as I begin to devour your pussy. My tongue, long and thick, fills you and reaches your g-spot. You grab the fur of my head and groan loudly from the approach of your orgasm. I go deeper and faster, lapping up every bit as my nose rubs against your clit.

"F-fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" You scream as you cum. I continue lapping up your juices, not missing a drop. I groan into your pussy. My mouth moves to your clit. I suck hungrily at it, holding your hips up to rock them back and forth onto my face. You grip my fur harder, nearly crying from the overstimulation. You cum again, even harder and faster than before. I stop abruptly, then quickly sit up and grab you, lifting you into my arms with ease.

"Wh-what? What are you-?" You try to ask. I simply place my thumb firmly in your mouth and press down on your tongue.

"suck." I command. And you comply.

My thumb is long and nearly reaches the back of your throat. Your mind starts to grow fuzzy as I pump my finger in and out of your mouth as I carry you.

We reach the fort once more. My finger leaves your mouth. I place you in my nest and flip you onto your stomach, then I grab your hips and pull until you are ass up. My claws rake against your back and you let out a cry of both pain and pleasure.

"no more waiting, my little Bunny. Now you will truly be my Mate." I say.

With a gutteral howl, I plunge three fingers into you. My hips buck forward and back, humping your leg as I finger fuck you. You scream with the stretch, my fingers long and thick inside of you. I rake a claw down your back once again, whimpering as I hump and fuck you for what feels like an eternity. Your vision blurs and comes back into focus, you lose count of how many times you cum. The world around you has faded away and it is only you and me. Your Werewolf.

Your Mate.

[magpod-confessions]

Okay I'm a first time listener and very very new to the fandom but not gonna lie I think the appeal of several characters in TMA is that I can understand where most of them are coming from a lot of the time

I understand some people not liking whoever for their own reasons, that's cool and valid, I just think you have to look through multiple perspectives to understand some of their actions. Yes Tim got more aggressive and bitter and harder for others to be around in S2 and beyond, but can you really blame him? He already had a lot going on when he joined the Institute, and beyond that he got traumatized by the whole Prentice situation and the NotSasha. I think him withdrawing from others because he's worried he won't be able to tell who's real anymore makes a whole lot of sense, actually. I think snapping at Jon because Jon was literally stalking him and others and unfairly treating them like suspects is completely understandable. I think his attitude being compounded and worsened by learning that the case tied to his brother was being withheld from him is totally fair. Let's be honest, Tim's worsening mental health makes complete sense. You can think he's an asshole for it, I'm not saying you have to like him, but I'm also saying he isn't an unsympathetic character just because he turned jaded later.

A lot of the same could be said for Jon though. Jon wanting to keep distance from his assistants because he's been introduced to so much information he can't process makes sense. Wanting to solve things alone so others don't get hurt because he feels guilt due to whats happened to all of them makes sense. Being paranoid post-Prentice makes complete sense (though the stalking less so). Thinking he's got some things already figured out and not recognizing his limited perspective on the supernatural, recognizing the existentialism of realizing he's way out of his depth, losing his grip on himself at times and his better sense due to a need to know and to understand all makes a lot of sense. Not just with Eye influence, but with what we know of Jon as a person.

Martin I can speak a little less on, but honestly I understand being the guy with all the nicer suggestions when all your co-workers are turning hella jaded. When everyone's falling apart in some way or bending under pressure, just wanting everyone to be haply is a perfectly understandable want. Additionally though, that's not all Martin is, and his moments of showing tact and wit and sarcasm shouldn't be ignored. Jon and Martin both wanted things to be better for the people around them. Jon wanted to do so by fixing everything himself, hiding scary details from them, and making amends to what he feels like he brought on them. Martin wants people to learn how to relax and put aside their personal grudges, to make people realize they're not going to get anywhere if they keep trying to fight one another. Tim is an already traumatized man who's mental health got worse after an experience that made him question the reality of the people around him who didn't like people prodding him every few seconds to question his capabilities

I don't know if this is 100% accurate (again, very new here, this is only my understanding of the characters so far), but that's what I got from it. Every character, even at their worse, can be completely understandable if you take the time to look at things in their frame of mind and from their perspectives. Again, you don't have to like them at their worse, it's understandable not to. But it is a little unfair to judge characters at their absolute mental limits for the actions they take while pushed to the brink (mainly talking about Tim here)

.