#i hope yall like what i did with it in the end

[song-witch]

Someone Old, Someone New

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Agatha Harkness, Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

Word Count: 4,591

Warnings: No Powers, adultery, divorce, pregnancy (Wanda), this is so angsty

Summary:

“I want a divorce.” Agatha breathed the words out, holding her hands tighter as if it would end what was happening. She wasn’t perfect. Neither of them were. That’s why they had worked so well.

“What?” Agatha hated just how upset Wanda looked. Absolutely… broken. And yet… The worst part was over. It had been a long divorce in the making.

“I want a divorce.” Agatha was firmer in her words, her eyes a sea of dark blue. Wanda’s green eyes blinked back at her, her hands going slack in the woman’s hold.

A/n: i can't reread this without crying so... hope yall enjoy !!

Agatha entered the room as quietly as possible, stopping the door before the hinges could squeak like she knew they would, eyes scanning quickly. Wanda was fast asleep, propped against the headboard with her legs crossed under her, hands holding her belly. Dread pooled in her stomach at the thought of the woman waiting up for her, but it was easily replaced by the adrenaline of the night still coursing through her. Rio. Rio, Rio, Rio. 

“Agatha?” Wanda’s tired voice flowed through the dimly lit room, making the brunette stop in her tracks. She had hoped to sneak in unnoticed, change in their bathroom and slip into bed without disturbing the redhead, considering how she had fallen asleep. Of fucking course, the redhead managed to screw up that plan.

“It’s just me, hon.” The pet name had her stomach churning in ways it hadn’t for a long, long time, disgust curling around her head. The worst part was; Wanda hadn’t done anything. Not counting getting pregnant, or marrying her, or falling for her in the first place, or- She had no reason to blame the redhead, not really, but she couldn’t blame herself. It’s not her fault who she falls for, or falls out of, for that matter.

“What took you so long?” And there was that god awful question. Wanda was good at that, asking what she didn’t want to hear. Speaking when she didn’t want to listen. Loving when she didn’t love back. Christ, she hated Wanda. Hated Rio. Hated herself. 

“Work ran late, accident on the way home. Off of Ninety-five.” Agatha kept her tone light, though she spoke through bared teeth. It was easy enough to head into their bathroom to change, needing the space to clear her mind. She kept the door cracked, once again slipping into her role of loving wife. She hated how often she did it, almost like Wanda had placed a spell on her, put her in a role she couldn’t escape. Except, she could. She could ask for a divorce now, tell the redhead she didn’t love her, hadn’t for months, maybe even years now, leave her with nothing and run off with Rio. If only…

“That’s terrible, baby. I hope everyone’s okay. I’m sorry work kept you so late again, I know how much you hate it.” And again, that woeful voice pulling her back to the present, right where she didn’t want to be. She should have taken Rio up on her offer, should have spent the night at her house. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so… so pitied.

Agatha only hummed in response, not caring if she was loud enough for the woman to hear or not. She’d be asleep soon enough anyways. It’s not like Agatha owed her anything. She had given her heart years ago, was that not enough? Clearly it wasn’t as the redhead began to talk again.

“Dinner’s in the fridge if you’re hungry. I made carbonara, there’s garlic bread on the counter to go with it. I didn’t have time to make it, but I picked up a boysenberry pie from that one place you like down the street.” She knew the redhead was stalling in an attempt to stay awake from the way her words were strewn together and beginning to slur together, occasional yawns accompanying her words. The worst part is that she knows how much Wanda dislikes said pie, despite how much she herself loved it. She wonders if Wanda knows. Knows she and Rio are… if she’s making her favorite meals in an attempt to keep Agatha all for herself. If she’s waiting for the right moment to rip them apart, to lawyer up and sue her to hell and back for her own personal entertainment. 

Agatha knows better, though. Knows Wanda’s too insecure for that. Especially now that she's pregnant. She thinks about the nursery. She still hadn’t gotten around to painting it, despite the persistent nagging from the younger woman. Maybe Wanda had done it herself, if she wasn’t still so cautious about every goddamn thing either one of them did. She wonders how they had ever clicked, considering just how different they seemed to be now. She laughs at the fact that they thought they were soulmates. That Wanda still thinks that.

It was simple enough to go through her routine and ignore the redhead, the faucet running a constant noise that helped to drown her out. She found herself comparing Wanda and Rio, especially in the early days of their relationship. Wanda had been so lively. Somehow both spontaneous and preplanning everything at the same time. Rio was so much more. Rio could do what Wanda couldn’t. Rio could go out to dinner without bringing up them or their future. Rio could say fuck you to anything and everything in favor of either one of them. Rio could make her day brighter just by being… Rio. Could fuck her, plain and simple. 

By the time she made it back into the bedroom, Wanda was laying down, facing the bathroom, though she seemed to be asleep. Once again, kept awake waiting for Agatha. The brunette could only scoff under her breath, pity rushing through her. Wanda was too wrapped up in herself to notice how Agatha would pull away first whenever they’d hug, always initiated by the redhead. Too wrapped up in this world of love they created long ago to notice how Agatha didn’t touch her anymore, how she was always the one giving and not receiving, per Agatha’s half-assed mumbles of being tired. She didn’t know how every time, she wasn’t thinking of Wanda. No, she was imagining someone else, eyes closed the entire time, even as Wanda spoke and touched her. 

The thoughts weighed her down as she slipped into bed, glaring at the wedding band that stayed in the jewelry dish Wanda had gifted her years ago, yet another thing she hated. She laid on her side, facing away from the redhead as she tugged the covers over herself, her mind working a mile a minute and somehow blanking at the same time.

“I love you.” Wanda mumbled as she rolled over, clearly with more difficulty than she used to, arms wrapping around the brunette’s waist. Well, as much as they could considering the growing bump that separated them. Agatha was almost thankful for that, silently glad that their child was already saving her in ways she could never tell them. 

“Love you too.” Agatha sighed out, something she could easily chalk up to being tired and not hatred, not bothering to cuddle into the redhead like she might have once had. Wanda’s forehead rested against the top of the back of her neck, a soft kiss placed there before her breathing evened out. Agatha couldn’t help but shiver at that, both in discontent and some awfully mangled version of the slight amount of love that still lingered in her heart for the younger woman, squeezing her eyes tight in hopes sleep would overcome her soon.

*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*

“Wanda, can we talk?” 

“Of course, baby. What’s up?” Wanda’s smiling as she sets her purse back on to the small side table she had picked it up from, her phone set next to it as she turns back to smile at Agatha and the woman couldn’t be more upset. This was going to ruin Wanda’s day. Her life, potentially. She’ll get over it. She watches as confusion works its way through the redhead’s face as she glances between her and sees Rio, her fingers circling her wedding ring. “Rio! I didn’t know you’d be joini-”

“Oh, please. Save the pleasantries for someone else.” Rio scoffed, an eye roll accompanying her less than kind tone, leaning against her hand as her head rolled with her eyes. Wanda’s fingers stop moving as she looks back towards her wife, shock evident in the way her mouth was slightly agape, as if looking for answers. Agatha could only grimace slightly yet not enough to actually do anything, instead urging the redhead towards the couch.

“Don’t mind her,” Agatha waved the brunette off as she continued to scowl in her chair, instead gently taking her wife’s elbow with as little contact as possible, “we need to talk.”

“Is everything okay, buttercup?” Wanda’s eyebrows knit together as she used the older woman’s hand and the arm of the couch to lower herself down, out of both concern and slight discomfort. Agatha intentionally kept her eyes on Rio, would tell Wanda she was making sure Rio listened if she asked. But she knew Wanda wouldn’t. Knew Wanda would sit prettily. Would listen as she spoke. Would cry at the inevitable. Oh well.

Agatha chose to kneel in front of the redhead, her back angled away from Rio, gently taking the woman’s hands into her own. It was the most touch she had initiated in weeks if not months. She thinks about how hands-on they had been when they met and even into the first few years of their marriage. How they could hardly make it out of the house, let alone leave the other alone once out. They had been so… obsessed with each other. Couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. Bitterness washes over her at the thought that that’s how her relationship with Rio was. Both now and before Wanda. She couldn’t find it in her to care.

“Well,” Agatha found herself sighing, rubbing the girl’s knuckle’s with her thumbs. She had decided how long ago that they needed a divorce and yet she couldn’t even bring herself to say the words. Rio’s eyes on the back of her head weren’t helping. Her throat felt like it was full of cotton and she couldn’t even push the words out if she wanted to.

The room felt dead. All energy had been sucked out and replaced by solemness, a strange mix of heaviness and delight swirling through the air. Her heart felt heavy. She was nervous. She was never nervous. So why now? Well, for one, she was about to ask for a divorce. Not ask, tell. Tell Wanda they were getting a divorce and that would be that, lawyers be damned. And Wanda didn’t even know. Couldn’t prepare herself for it. Why did she care so much? She wouldn’t have to see her after this. Their child, sure, but not Wanda. 

“Jesus, get on with it already.” Rio scoffed from the chair. Looking back to glare at the woman, Agatha wants nothing more than to push her leg off the arm and back onto the floor, telling her to sit properly if she’s going to participate in their adult conversation. Or maybe… maybe she wants to ravish the woman then and there, make her wife watch and hope she gets the memo. Yeah, maybe that would be better. Rio did look extremely tempting in her slacks and white button up and her woody perfume and-

“On with what? What’s going on?” And Wanda was confused again, glancing between the women as if they were conspiring against her. She hates that she’s right. Little miss know-it-all strikes again. That son of a bitch. 

“Wanda, hun,” Agatha started, sucking in a deep breath even as her thoughts ran in circles, hoping the pet name would at least sugarcoat her words a little, “you know I love you very much.”

Wanda merely hummed in agreement, shifting her wrists to instead entangle their fingers. The move made the brunette grimace. Why did she have to choose now to be all lovey dovey. It was bullshit and they both knew it. Based on the look of concern on the woman’s face, maybe she didn’t. She once would have longed to reach out, take the redhead’s face in her hands and smooth the wrinkle between her eyebrows, tell her not to worry her pretty little head and that everything was okay. Had she been lying everytime she had said it? Had she set Wanda up from the very beginning? Had her heart always belonged to Rio? 

“And that I would never want to hurt you.” Agatha shook the thoughts away, struggling to refocus her attention on her wife. Her thoughts keep drifting back to Rio. Rio behind her watching them. Rio’s lips on hers just minutes before Wanda had come downstairs. Rio’s back pressed to the wall of their dining room after baiting her. Rio’s hands. Her hands in her hair, running up and down her sides, pressing hard into her hips, hard into her-

“Yes.” Wanda’s reassuring squeeze of their hands pulled her back to reality, that sick smile she had come to hate plastered across her face. She remembers how Wanda would ask her if she were reacting the ‘right way.’ Agatha had been confused at first; Wanda was going on 23, herself 31. She had thought it strange for the woman to ask her that; they had only been together for three months and yet the girl was hyper aware of every reaction she had. It had taken time to realize that Wanda had been behind the curve growing up in a country that wasn’t her home, trying her best to associate with others without having anyone. And though that had dissipated over the five years of their relationship, she could still picture the girl, quiet and yearning, softly asking if she was doing good in the late hours of the night. 

“I want a divorce.” The picture still bright in her head, Agatha breathed the words out, holding her hands tighter as if it would end what was happening. As if she weren’t the one who brought it up. As if she weren’t the villain. As if she were the victim. Though, neither was Wanda. She wasn’t perfect. Neither of them were. That’s why they had worked so well. 

“What?” Agatha hated just how upset Wanda looked. Absolutely… broken . And yet… And yet, a part of her rejoiced. The worst part was over. Now, it would be long before she was free. It had been a long divorce in the making. She hadn’t ever been free. Not really. 

“I want a divorce.” Agatha was firmer in her words, her eyes a sea of dark blue. Wanda’s green eyes blinked back at her, her hands going slack in the woman’s hold. And oh how she hated that she still needed the redhead in some twisted way.

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Wanda shook her head, hands limp in Agatha’s, her eyes misty. Agatha could tell she was trying not to cry, trying to keep her ever changing hormones in check, act less upset than she was. She knew the inner turmoil the redhead was likely enduring, questions of what would happen, why, when, potentially who. 

“What’s there not to understand? Your wife doesn’t love you and wants a divorce, plain and simple.” Agatha almost wanted to smother Rio for the fact that she couldn’t fucking keep to herself for once, forcing herself into the conversation she wasn’t a part of. It wouldn’t be Rio if she didn’t cause some sort of chaos though, would it?

Agatha was turning towards the dark haired woman with a scowl, unintentionally pulling Wanda forward with her as her hands were still being gripped. “I don’t… Was it something I did?” 

“Look, Wanda, it’s not-” Agatha was turning back around before she could berate Rio, a pang of sadness running through her chest. She wanted to reprimand Rio more than she wanted to comfort her own wife. How fucked up was that? What would people think of her when they heard about this ? What had she ever fucking cared?

“Did I… Did I say something wrong? The redhead was clearly reaching for something . Trying to find anything that would serve as an explanation. Tears ran down her cheeks, though she seemed unbothered by them as she searched Agatha’s eyes. Attempting to find a trace of something.

“You didn’t say anything wrong, it’s just-” There was nothing Agatha could say that would reassure the woman. Well, besides maybe telling her it was a shitty joke and that she was still desperately in love with her. But that would be a lie. And despite knowing she was killing the woman, she couldn’t bring herself to lie to her as well. Maybe just a little, but not about love. No, they both had too much trauma to lie about that .

“Was it the pillows? I know you didn’t love them, but we can return them if, if-” Wanda’s voice was more apprehensive than she had heard in a long time, an undertone of pleading coloring her soft crying. She hated those pillows so much. They weren’t ugly, per se, but Wanda had picked them out just under a month ago. They were a deep green, matching the accent wall on the far side of the living room, square and so grossly homely. 

“It wasn’t the fucking pillows, will you just listen -” Agatha squeezed her hands as if that would make Wanda shut up. It was better than strangling her. 

“Jesus fuck, I can see why you’re over her. Won’t shut the fuck up for five seconds.” Rio scoffed and neither of them had to turn around to know she was rolling her eyes. Typical. 

“I- what?” Wanda shook her head. She was momentarily shocked, as if she couldn’t believe the words Rio had said. Agatha couldn’t blame her. They were downright mean, even for Rio. 

“Don’t listen to her. She’s not even supposed to be here right now, I was waiting for-” Instead of acknowledging the younger woman like Agatha knew she wanted, she turned her full attention back to Wanda, smoothing her thumbs over the veins in her hands. She deliberately avoided her wedding ring, praying Wanda wouldn’t notice. Knew she was too out of it to.

“You invited me over.” Rio interjected, a sly grin gracing her features. Almost if she knew she had won. In a way, she had. She had convinced Agatha enough to be in the position they were in. She hated the effect the woman had on her. Hated it so much she couldn’t get enough of it. Except for right now. 

“Rio! Would you stop interjecting so I can talk to my wife .” Agatha knew those were fighting words, knew how much more tense it would make the room. How pissed off it would make Rio. How sad it would make Wanda. How conflicted it would make herself. She didn’t care, though. 

“Was it-” Wanda cut herself off with a soft sob, as if it pained her to ever think about what she would say next. She inhaled shakily once as she looked into Agatha’s eyes, her own fleeting between the two, as if she were steeling herself for what she was going to say. “Is it the baby? Does he- do they remind you of Nic-”

It was her own gasp cutting Wanda off, one she thinks is coupled with a noise similar from Rio. And Wanda was looking between them, some mix of fear and pure sadness so evident on her face it almost hurt. She hated that look. She had once sworn she’d never see the woman so dejected again. Yet… Yet here they are, with the redhead looking more broken than she had when Pietro had died.

“It’s not… It’s not the baby, not Nic-” Agatha dropped one of the woman’s hands in favor of cupping her cheek, her own eyes becoming misty at the accusation. Neither of them talked about him. The few times they had, had been filled with so much trust and tears. Wanda had been so worried when bringing up her desire for children that Agatha would up and leave her then and there. It had been quite the opposite whenever it had been brought up until the last year and a half. Wanda had wanted to be so sure that Agatha would be okay.

“Don’t ever talk about him like that. You don’t fucking deserve to talk about him at all, you fucking bitch!” Rio was looming over her so quickly that she was sure the woman had levitated, casting a dark shadow over the women. Her pointer finger jabbed at the redhead’s chest, fire blazing in her eyes. 

“Hey! You don’t fucking talk to her like that!” Agatha stood as a physical boundary between the two women. She knew Wanda wouldn’t do anything. Far too docile and timid to actually be of any threat, Rio however… Rio was a ball of bottled up emotions waiting to explode and now was not the time and Wanda was not the person. She was so fed up with her loveless marriage that she never thought she’d be defending the woman again, but Rio had absolutely no right to take it out on her.

“Oh, please. You don’t even like her! Who fucking cares how I talk to her?” Rio rolled her eyes with another scoff, clearly fed up. Agatha had told her so much about their relationship that it was entirely ridiculous that she would even care. If anything, she expected the older woman to be on her side. 

“You don’t get to disrespect my wife just because we’re getting divorced!” Agatha knew they were fighting words, knew they would twist the knife just a little more. There was no reason for Rio to be awful. 

“Please stop.” Wanda muttered pathetically behind her hands in a sad attempt at hiding her tears, body hunched over as the two fought. They didn’t pay her any attention, too caught up in their own world.

“You’re so fucking pathetic, oh my god.” Rio laughed. Straight up laughed in Agatha’s face, her voice low and dark in a stark contrast to the yelling just moments earlier. It sent shivers down her spine. 

“Me? I’m the pathetic one?” And Agatha was the one scoffing now. Because who was Rio to call her pathetic? Yes, she may have been cheating on her wife, but Rio was nowhere near perfect either. Death incarnated, as she used to say. 

“Yes!” Rio cried. 

“Please enlighten me, Rio. How am I pathetic?” Agatha gestured to the short amount of space between them, in a ‘the floor is yours’ motion. She almost wished she had popcorn for the theatrics of what she could only imagine the woman would say. 

“You’re defending your lousy ass wife, who you don’t even love by the way, considering you seemed to have forgotten that part!” Rio threw her arm out wildly, just barely missing Wanda’s head with her erratic movement. Had Wanda not been bent over as much as she could, she would have hit her. She knew Rio would’ve taken delight in that. 

“As if you’re any better.” Agatha crossed her arms, some mix of negative emotions swirling inside her. 

“Oh, really? Well, do enlighten me, Agatha, how am I not any better?” And if their back and forth couldn’t get any worse, Rio was scoffing again, the air hanging thickly with the threat baited in her words. 

“You can’t get over anything! You’re so fucking caught up in the past, you had to stoop down to my level to-” Rio stalked forward, jabbing her finger into the older woman’s chest, reminiscent of the way she had to the younger’s just minutes earlier. Agatha couldn’t go far, standing still as she leaned back.

“ENOUGH!” Wanda choked out through her tears, loud enough to stop the bickering between the two women but not quite yelling. No, her throat was constricting too much for that. Whether that was from crying or nausea based on the slight grey hue to her face, Agatha was unsure. Either way, it reminded her where she was, yelling at her lover while her wife sobbed to herself on the couch. God, she was so fucked up. She’d live.

“Wanda…” Agatha dropped back to her knees, one hand cupping the woman’s knee, the other hovering just inches away from her cheek. She didn’t know how her touch would comfort her, if her touch would comfort her. It had for years been something Wanda went out of her way to receive and she went out of her way to give. But now… now Wanda looked like a terrified little kitten, shaking and small, acting braver than she was. 

“Please don’t… Please don’t touch me.” Wanda’s voice trembled just as much as her hands did as she looked away, pushing the woman’s hand off of her knee. Agatha retracted it as if she had been burned. In a way, she had. She was the one rejecting Wanda, not the other way around. 

“Wanda, c’mon sugar, let’s talk this through.” Agatha attempted to grab one of her fleeting hands. Longed to pull it closer to her and kiss it, convince her it’d be okay. Despite them both knowing it’d be a lie. 

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna go… Gonna go.” Wanda mumbled softly as she stood, an eerily blank look in her eyes as she wrapped her cardigan more securely around herself, roughly wiping at her nose with her crumpled tissue. The sight made Agatha’s heart clench as she laid her hand where the redhead was just sitting, watching in silence as she waddled towards the garage door, reaching for her car keys with a soft cry. 

“Your jacket.” Agatha made a move to get up as the younger woman opened the door to the garage, her body hiccuping with hardly contained sobs. She didn’t make it past the couch before the door had closed, though, sudden sadness washing over her as Wanda clearly made sure the door didn’t slam as she closed it, knowing how it shook the house. 

Agatha stared for a long while before the car had pulled out of the driveway, not bothering to move as she knew Rio stood watching her, unknowing of where the redhead would go. She could feel her heart blackening, becoming even darker at how she had ruined the woman’s life. 

“Agatha-” 

“Not now, Rio.” Agatha muttered, not bothering to look at the woman. She turned away as a bony hand wrapped around her shoulder. She wasn’t in the mood for Rio’s pity. Her own arms wrapped around her middle, her right hand coming up to roll her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger. She was anxious and she didn’t even know why. Perhaps it was Rio’s looming presence behind her, the atmosphere of the place where she and Wanda had once shared so much love now dark and dim. 

“You’re the one who wanted to divorce her! Don’t ‘not now’ me.” Rio picked the stack of papers up from the coffee table, shoving them in the brunette’s face as if she needed a reminder of what had just happened. Her eyes lit up in anger, meeting the raven haired woman in rage.

“I said not now, Rio.” Agatha bit out, shoving the papers out of her face with a slight snarl. 

“Y’know what? Fuck this.” Rio threw the papers on the coffee table, breezing through the falling sheets towards the door. It was like a scene straight out of a movie with the amount of chaos the stack had caused, flurrying around Rio in a cacophony of noise, almost veiling the woman with how fast she was out of the house. The sounds didn’t stop with the slam of the front door. And despite the papers settling into silence, it washed over everything, leaving the house still.

And so Agatha was alone. Again. 

[bleedingoptimism]

The Stray

part two

Steve, blushingly furiously, asks Max to take over pancake duty so he can put on a shirt.

And Eddie is both thankful and devastated about it until Steve comes back… and he’s wearing one of Eddie’s shirts and fuck, that makes it so much worse.

He’s always had a thing for guys wearing his clothes and Steve looks so fucking pretty with an old and tattered shirt from his first tour.

Steve catches Eddie staring at him and blushes again, “Sorry, I'm wearing you aren’t I?” 

‘Uhg why would you phrase it like that? That sounds so good. Yes. Please. Wear me.’

Eddie shakes his head and smiles at their guest, “Nah, it’s fine dude, you can do me whene- Wear me! I mean- wear my clot- Stop laughing Max, you little shit! I slept like two hours, okay?”

The three of them share a laugh and then, with all of their plates full, Max starts telling Eddie how she met Steve and the circumstances that got her to invite him over.

Eddie listens and starts thinking, shit, maybe he shouldn’t trust Max to be alone for such long periods of time. He worries about her, always has. But Max has always been independent and so fucking stubborn, toeing the line between proving how responsible she was and disobedience.

He tries to keep an eye on her as much as she lets him, he trusts Max to commute to college alone, to hit the skate park at any hour of the day. She used to get into fights at high school but went to therapy for her anger issues and doesn’t do it anymore.

He trusts her with her boyfriend. Or more accurately, he trusts her boyfriend. It took Max two whole months to tell Eddie she was dating someone and another two months to finally introduce them. And not because she was worried about what Eddie might think of him, oh no. 

She was worried Eddie would think Lucas was too good for her. Too pure. That she would corrupt him. (She was right about Lucas being too pure but Eddie would never think someone could be too good for her. In his opinion, she deserved every bit of good that came her way.)

So really, befriending a street performer sounded like something right up her alley but, taking a homeless man in…

Not that he can blame her, he thinks as he watches Steve shyly biting a pancake and getting progressively redder as Max dives into an action-packed story of him beating up three men to save her.

He knows Max like the back of his hand and knows exactly where she’s going when she talks about how kind, smart, and talented her friend is so he’s not surprised when she asks, “Can he stay with us for a while?”

“No, absolutely not.”

It’s not him who answers, but Steve. He’s shaking his head and looking at Max with big eyes, “I couldn’t possibly. I can’t take advantage of your hospitality any longer, I-”

“Oh, shut up Steve, don’t play hard to get. You have nowhere else to go! Just say yes.”

Steve seems to shrink into himself and looks between Max and Eddie, who gives him a little encouraging smile.

“What are you going to do?” Max presses.

Steve blinks at them sadly and he looks so much like a kicked puppy Eddie wants to make Max back off and hold him, so he stuffs his mouth with pancakes before he says something stupid.

“...I don't know,” Steve answers after a second, and Max huffs as if she is dealing with a child.

“Do you have anyone you could call?” Eddie asks him curious.

Steve’s shoulders tense for a second before he smiles apologetically, “Not anyone I’d want to find out about my… Situation”

“That settles it then!” Max says and claps her hands loudly making Eddie jump, he really did sleep two hours and he wants to go to bed now. Maybe Steve would be up for cuddles? Okay, no. He needs to go to sleep right now before his brain gets any more dumb ideas.

“You can stay in the guest room Wayne and mom use when they come over, no biggie. And don’t worry I’m not gonna let you stay here for free! You’ll chaperone me to school and the skate park and can do the groceries and cook while you look for a proper job! If anything I’ll be taking advantage of you and not the other way around,” Max tells him in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

Steve looks between the both of them once more before sighing and nodding once, a small smile on his lips that makes his eyes shine prettily.

He blinks a couple of times, his eyes looking wetter with every blink and he clears his throat and excuses himself going to the living room where his beat-up duffle bag and guitar case are, pretending to be tying things up while clearly drying his tears.

Eddie’s heart clenches for him but he looks at Max and shakes his head at her, “You know, your mom warned me once about me getting home one day and finding you with a stray puppy but,” he lifts his hand and points in Steve’s general direction, “That’s a grown-ass man.”

Max smirks at him, “Nah,” she says, taking Eddie’s plate and hers and starting to clean up after Steve, “He’s a puppy.”

to be continued!

part 1: 🎸

part 2: you are here!

part 3: 📓

part 4: 💝

coffee?☕🥐💕

[tangents-within-tangents]

Hot take:

Crosshair does not have the Imperial disillusionment and redemption arc of The Bad Batch

Emerie does.

Crosshair has an arc for sure yes but it's not that.

I was thinking about this scene:

and how it got right what this scene kinda didn't:

(It was so close but then bad writing decided to undercut the moment with a joke rip)

And I think it's really interesting that these characters who were more or less raised into the Empire/First Order and chose to leave it are all directly asked why.

But take a look at Crosshair's answers in comparison:

Different context for the asking, yes, but still, compare that to clones like Howzer, Cody, Slip and Cade who left or turned against the Empire because they knew what the Empire is doing is wrong and they weren't just going to blindly follow orders:

Crosshair - Loyalty, Purpose, and Survival

Crosshair didn't choose to join the Empire (though the show isn't very clear or consistent about how much control the inhibitor chips have) but he did, for whatever reason, choose to stay. By the end of S1 we know his chip has been removed and as he definitively says "This is who I am." There were likely still other influences on his decision, but listen to how he talks about the Empire in the S1 finale:

Hunter: Crosshair, I've seen what the Empire is doing. Occupying planets and silencing anyone who stands against them. You know it's not right. Crosshair: You still don’t see the bigger picture, but you will. Hunter: Can't you see they're using you?

Crosshair: We’re not like the regs, we never have been. We’re superior. The Empire can’t protect the galaxy without strength, this is what we were made for. Think of all we could do, together!

Crosshair: You all are meant for more than drifting through the galaxy. It’s time to stop running. Join the Empire, and you will have purpose again.

Hunter: They destroyed an entire city! Crosshair: They did what needed to be done. Kamino, regs, the Republic, that time is over. The Empire will control the entire galaxy, and I am going to be a part of it. Hunter: Don't fool yourself. All you'll ever be to them is a number.

He undeniably knows what the Empire is doing, but he does not care. In fact it sure sounds like he actually supports it and finds self-meaning in it. Hunter spends those episodes trying to convince him it's wrong, he doesn't change his mind. In the end they offer him an out and he doesn't take it.

Wrecker: You coming with us? Crosshair: None of this changes anything. Hunter: You offered us a chance, Crosshair. This is yours. Crosshair: I made my decision.

The next we see Crosshair in "The Solitary Clone" (S2:E3) he follows orders and shoots the Desix governor, right after Cody heartbreakingly tries to do what's right and find a peaceful solution.

Cody: Tell me something, Crosshair. This new Empire, are we making the galaxy better? Crosshair: We’re soldiers, we do what needs to be done. Cody: You know what makes us different from battle droids? We make our own decisions, our own choices. And we have to live with them too.

After this (glorious!) conversation, Crosshair stays. Maybe this began to seed some doubts, but he actually smiles a few scenes later when Rampart assigns him another mission. It seems like for him it truly is as he said in S1:E1 (chip not enhanced yet but still influencing him enough for his brothers to notice he's acting strange):

Crosshair: Republic, Empire... what's the difference.

Crosshair: Orders are orders.

This unethical mission that finally pushed Cody over the edge does not change Crosshair's mind about the Empire, at least not enough for him to take action.

But what does?

Mayday: And here we are, the survivors. Combat troopers stuck babysitting cargo shipments. Crosshair: Mission’s a mission. Mayday: Yeah, I used to say the same thing.

Mayday: After all the clones have done, all we’ve sacrificed. We’re good soldiers, we followed orders. And for what?

This mission has nothing to do with how the fascist Empire treats the galaxy, it's about how they treat their soldiers. It's about how Mayday loyally fought and served his whole life and Lieutenant Nolan let him die

Lt Nolan: He served his purpose as a soldier of the Empire. Crosshair: You could have saved him! Lt Nolan: Perhaps you didn’t hear me, he is expendable, as are you.

Crosshair thought he could find purpose within the Empire, and Nolan shows him exactly what that will be.

His turning point is accompanied with this powerful visual of the ice vulture, a symbol (and threat) of death, and also set up within the episode a symbol of survival:

Mayday: Vicious creatures, but you have to admire ‘em. They find a way to survive.

This critical moment (that gives me chills, oof this episode is a masterpiece!) comes right after Nolan calls him expendable and directly threatens him:

Lt Nolan: And if you speak to me again with such disrespect I'll see to it you meet a similar fate, clone.

then Crosshair sees the vulture's shadow and turns to Mayday's dead body (ahh visual storytelling my beloved) then makes his decision:

Crosshair turns against the Empire not because he believes Hunter was right about this:

Hunter: I've seen what the Empire is doing ... You know it's not right.

but because he was right about this:

Hunter: All you'll ever be to them is a number.

Redemption (both in fiction and irl in my humble opinion) comes with making amends and reparations (which is why death 'redemptions' bother me so much but that's a rant for another time). Unlike Emerie, Crosshair never explicitly denounces the Empire or his own actions within it. He never says anything to specifically show if and how his views have changed from what he said on Kamino. He makes amends with his family (sending the warning message, helping Omega escape, making up with Hunter) but that's about it. The most we get in terms of acknowledgement is this:

Crosshair: I thought I knew what I was getting into with the Empire. I thought I was being a good soldier. Hunter: Nobody really understood what was happening back then. Crosshair: I’ve... done things. I’ve made mistakes. Hunter: I have regrets too, Crosshair. All we can do is keep trying to be better, and who knows there just might be hope for us yet.

Which is nice and all but it's more about them making up as brothers so it's way too excusing tbh ("no one knew what was happening back then" ummm? "The Empire will control the entire galaxy, and I am going to be a part of it" remember? And even if at first Crosshair was being controlled by the chip, the fact that he chose to stay after it was removed* means he condones and is therefore still accountable for those actions).

There's also a bit of self-destructive guilt:

Crosshair: Omega, don't risk anything for me. I belong in here.

Crosshair: Omega needs you both. So I’m doing this alone, it’s what I deserve. Hunter: Don’t even think about plan 99, Crosshair. Omega needs all of us.

(which thank you Hunter for pushing back on the death redemption bs and oh look is that a wrap up for the purpose thing?)

But there's no action taken on his part to make up for what he's done or to stand against the Empire (aside from the bare minimum of help with Tantiss, only after it became personally relevant, which like yeah he had trauma to deal with but still).

While I do think the implications/follow-up of Crosshair's turn should have been handled better in S3 (like rip Howzer! he deserved an apology, but that's a rant for another time), I don't necessarily** think this arc is a bad writing choice. It's just saying different things than we expect:

Maybe Crosshair's story is not about standing up against an unjust system, like we see with many other characters (who deserved more screen time but that's a rant for another timeeee). Maybe his story is about how even those who are loyal to the Empire, who actually believe in it, still suffer under and within it's rule. Not to garner sympathy, but to show that there is no winning.

Crosshair has another 'so what changed' convo in S3:E14 with Rampart, in which they draw parallels to each other:

Rampart: You used to believe good soldiers followed orders. Crosshair: Depends on who's giving them. The Empire betrayed us both. Rampart: And you think you can fight them? That's not you. You're like me, loyal to no one but yourself. Crosshair: I've changed.

(note how he says who's giving the orders, not what the orders are)

"Loyal to no one but yourself" describes Rampart much more than Crosshair, since we often saw Crosshair pride himself as a loyal soldier of the Empire whereas we saw Rampart abuse power to be self-serving within the Empire (like when he killed Wilco to save face). But they were both betrayed either way. Vice Admiral Rampart, snively Imperial opportunist through-and-through, shouts "I was following orders!" as he is arrested for the Empire's purposes. (Edit: and where Crosshair rejected the Empire and found new purpose fighting for his family, Rampart was still self-serving in the finale. He still tries to gain power for himself and he gets his comeuppance).

Even Hemlock, the final boss immoral Imperial scientist, who has to be benefiting the most from this system, echoes the expendability idea:

Hemlock: What I am working on is beyond your understanding. Something so vital to the Empire it makes me indispensable.

Then there's CX-2, also set up as a parallel/foil to Crosshair (fight me), who in the end is discarded as no more than a weapon, a tool that served it's purpose, showing us what would have become of Crosshair if he had stayed.

There is no winning in the Empire. Loyalty is not rewarded, it "doesn't go both ways." Everyone has to fight for their value. Even high ranking individuals** who for a time benefit from the injustice, in the end are just pawns to be used up and cast aside at a whim for the Emperor's gain. Even people who are motivated by self-interest alone cannot survive within this system, the only viable option in this galaxy is to fight the Empire and dismantle that system. (unless you conveniently find a magically safe island to hide away on but that's a rAnT fOr AnOtHeR tImE)

Which brings us back to...

Emerie - Cooperation, Compassion, and Choice

(Okay this post has already gotten away from me but I still want to talk about her to show the contrasts.)

Emerie may not have been given a lot of screen time to really flesh out her development, but there is a lot that is pretty clearly implied with her:

Crosshair: They’ll never turn her [Omega] over. Hemlock: They don’t have a choice. She is a clone, and therefore Imperial property. *Camera cuts to an angle more centered on Emerie’s face*

Crosshair: Give me your access card! Emerie: It won’t get you outside!

Emerie: I tried to warn him what would happen if he did not cooperate with the Doctor.

Emerie: Prisoner? Omega, you are no such thing. It will take time to adjust, but you will acclimate. It is far safer in here than out there.

Emerie: You should go back to your room. Crosshair: You mean her cell?

Emerie: Why children? Hemlock: Children are easier to attain and more agreeable to the subjugations. They are unaware of why they are here and what they possess.

Emerie: They're children. Like I was... Was your plan to discard them too? Nala Se: The Empire will keep them in order to control them.

We don't know a lot about Emerie's background, but it's clear that she had a lot less choice than Crosshair and less opportunity or ability to leave. Unlike Crosshair, we never directly hear Emerie's views of the Empire (and she was most likely 'taken under Hemlock's wing' before the Empire even came to power), but lets look at how she talks about the Tantiss:

"Remain calm. Cooperate and you might survive."

"Don't make this worse, Crosshair! There is no escape!"

"All of us serve a purpose here."

"The Doctor will inform me, if it's necessary."

"It's best not to ask questions."

"Escape is not possible, Omega. This is for your own good."

She honestly does the best she can within the system she is also trapped in. She tries to help Crosshair, Omega, and the vault kids in the only way she knows how (warns Crosshair about the hounds and security, tries to protect Omega from Hemlock, tells Scorch his "actions were extreme" with Jax, insists on overseeing Bayrn's retrieval, double checks his m-count (to give him an out), and tries to find out where he came from). When she gives Omega, and later Eva, the doll, I think it shows just how little she really is able to do here (and it's kinda heartbreaking imo).

The framing of this shot especially (after Jax's escape attempt) visually shows how Emerie herself is trapped/imprisoned:

Despite the fact that very little of this is Emerie's fault, she has very little power and she is doing all she can, the narrative does not excuse her role in the Empire:

Nala Se: What will you do, Emerie? Emerie: There is nothing I can do. I don't have that kind of power. Nala Se: Don't you?

Emerie: I- I was doing my job. Echo: Yeah, I’ve heard that before. You’re a clone. How can you be part of this?

These fighting-the-Bystander-Effect conversations parallel these exchanges:

Hunter: We made a choice, and so did you. Crosshair: Soldiers follow orders. Hunter: Blind allegiance makes you a pawn.

Crosshair: We’re soldiers, we do what needs to be done. Cody: You know what makes us different from battle droids? We make our own decisions, our own choices. And we have to live with them too.

which did not change Crosshair's mind. And honestly, all respect to Echo's disappointed mom glare™ but I think it's clear Emerie had already made her decision, she just needed help to actually be able to do anything about it. When she stopped Echo, with her voice wavering on the verge of tears (ahhh v good voice acting), she clearly had no intention of turning him in. She's on her own in the Empire's most secure facility with very little resources, if she had tried anything on her own she most likely would have failed and been killed

Omega: Emerie, you don't have to do this. Emerie: (sigh) I’m sorry, but I do.

but as soon as she is enabled by an ally, she immediately turns around to help: giving information and getting Echo through security, helping the kids escape, and giving Omega the tablet that allows them to free the other clone prisoners.

Where Crosshair's turn is accompanied by the symbolic imagery of the ice vulture, Emerie's is the removal of her (literally rose-tinted!) glasses:

Symbolizing how she has shed her previous views/indoctrination that altered her perception of the Empire and blinded her to it's wrongs. It's disillusionment.

Emerie's story shows us that even those who are raised and indoctrinated into this system can, should, and will escape (with needed help). Even those who did not choose to be apart of the Empire and are not making the decisions still have the responsibility and ability to act on what they know is right.

Emerie, whose name means 'Home strength' 'Brave' and 'Powerful', and "reflects the importance of leadership and authority in the workplace".***

While Emerie is only in one more scene after her turn, so the wrap up is a bit rushed, she still very simply does what Crosshair does not:

Emerie: Because I was wrong about this place. And I'm trying to do the right thing.

Echo: I’m sure Senator Chuchi would find what you have to say very helpful for our cause. Emerie: I have a lot to make up for. I’d like to help out however I can.

She admits wrong, takes accountability, commits to making amends, and leaves with Echo to go take on the Empire (which hopefully we will get to actually see more of some day).

So, in short, she's showing us how redemption is done right!

---

Notes:

*Whether this writing choice was good/logical/in-character or not is another discussion entirely, but I'm going off of what we were given, what the show is presenting in the canon text and (reasonably inferred/intentional) subtext. Crosshair is pretty multifaceted and I could only touch on so much here. There's a lot of ways to interpret his character/choices, but I tried to avoid the realm of speculation or fanon explanations (even if they sometimes make more sense lol).

**History and political theory are not my area of expertise at all, so I have NO idea how well this aligns with real-world fascism stuff and therefore what implications this storytelling choice could have. I think the message of like 'if you think you could survive or gain power by doing what the Empire/fascist system wants you are wrong' could be good (like how everyone is actually harmed by the patriarchy type of a thing), but I hesitate bc maybe there are those who would benefit, since it's a hierarchal system, right? If anyone more knowledgeable than me has incite to share, by all means

Either way, I do think it works in-story and in-universe though. It's just in the execution. The main problem (even from a strictly theme/character arc stand point) is the lacking follow-up/consequences for Crosshair in S3. Like you gave your character accountability by removing the chip and I think that's great setup for an arc but you gotta follow through with that and actually hold him accountable!

***I'm always curious when clones have 'normal' names, like why did they chose the name Emerie of all things? So I looked it up. Idk how reliable sources are for name meanings so take it with a grain of salt but it's still fun. Fits pretty well, and clones names have definitely had significant meanings in the past (like how Rex and Jesse both mean 'king') so I'm pretty sure it was intentional.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[two-entire-bits]

I have a confession. I do not care for the soc boys. I'm sure they have very interesting character traits and lore the actors and fandom have come up with and that is so fun and great and I know none of it and I am perfectly content with that. Shout out to all my mutuals who love the soc boys I hope you are having fun with your Ken dolls but I will not be joining you. keep slaying.

[aseuki]

Comes in here with a longass post hello! Been meaning to get around to illustrating some Species Headcanons @humming-fly @alagaesia-overlord and I have been cooking up! Major props to them for helping me write the script hahaha it wouldn't have been possible without them!

This is a little segment I have been wanting to try for a bit, just a nice moment to dispense lore in a fun way! I can't promise that more will be out in a necessarily timely manner, but I can promise that more will be on its way. Someday!

Until then, I hope you all enjoy these fun lil thoughts! 🤗

[clowningaroundmars]

heeyyy yaaalllll

so i was thinking to myself, i love punkflower. i really do.

what if there was a hobie in miles' universe and he didnt have to do the whole long distance relationship across dimensions thing, though? just keep his lil secret crush on spiderpunk a secret and keep it pushing, only to literally bump into his own hobie brown in 1610 one day?

wouldnt that be cool, guys?

wouldnt it? :)

wouldnt :) it :) be :) so :) cool? :) and so cute too?

:)

update: >part 2 here<

Miles was late.

It was his first day back, the very beginning of his junior year at Visions Academy and he was late. God damn.

His parents were really gonna kill him this time, no doubt about it. There weren't even any good Spiderman excuses he could use to weasel his way out of getting into trouble this time! He'd just have to cross his fingers and pray that his chemistry teacher for this year wasn't a total hardass like last year's English teacher.

Maybe he could make up some dumb excuse this time, try to wriggle his way into the professor's good graces with some blatant lie. Anyways, whose dumb idea was it to put him in a class so damn far from the entrance doors so early in the mor--

BRRRRRRING!

Miles tore around a corner just as the final bell rang throughout the mostly-empty hallways, inciting panic in his chest and making him nearly launch himself down another hallway just to get to his class.

In his haste, he nearly knocked over a very tall and very... familiar looking person that happened to be in Miles' trajectory. Luckily, bodies didn't end up colliding but the shock of having a person fly so quickly into their line of sight shocked the both of them into skidding to a sudden stop.

The tall person ended up dropping a textbook and what seemed like an enormous packet of papers, because sheets scattered absolutely everywhere, almost like snow.

Ugh. Of course.

They both stared down at the mess in the middle of the hallway floor for a beat.

Then, Miles exhaled a laugh, shaking his head.

"Aw man, I-I'm sorry! I just uh... here, lemme just--"

They both bent down to quickly scoop up the papers as Miles stuttered and spoke a hundred miles a minute, trying to apologize for the heart-stopping scare he caused. Just as Miles shuffled the papers together in his hands, he finally looked up at the unlucky student he almost football-tackled first thing in the morning... and nearly dropped the papers onto the floor again.

Kneeled right in front of him with papers and a textbook tucked under a skinny arm, long fingers nervously plucking up what was left of the rest of the packet, was none other than... Hobie Brown.

Oh. God.

This Hobie didn't seem to be Miles' Hobie, though.

(Miles' temperature rose a bit as he quickly thought: wait, my Hobie? That's not right, either.)

Instead of large freeform locs that tapered off like wicks, he was sporting long uniform locs that were piled up high in a loose ponytail on his head, most likely due to the school policy that stated boys needed to have hair above the nape of their neck. Miles kinda wondered about that policy, if he ever decided to grow out his hair; would pulling his hair up be enough? Or would they police his hair length and force him to cut it all off?

Well, turns out the answer was literally right in front of him. Another shock to the system right after the first one.

That was Miles' excuse, really. It was just so dang early in the morning and he really really wasn't thinking when he opened his mouth and basically shouted "Hobie?!"

It honest to god sounded like it echoed in the hallway.

He slapped a hand over his mouth, immediately chastising himself for the stupid mistake he made, mentally kicking himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid!! He wasn't supposed to know this guy obviously, they hadn't even met in their dimension yet!

Hobie, for his part, didn't seem perturbed by this at all though. He took the papers from Miles' hands and straightened himself back up to his full height, offering a hand so that Miles could stand up too.

He shrugged shyly and hid behind a couple locs that happened to fall back into his face, holding the books and papers closer to his chest.

"Uhmmn yeah, sorry. I-I'm runnin' late to my first class so I can't really give any autographs right now. Maybe later... if we see each other, ok?"

Miles blinked owlishly. Did he just say... autographs?

And wait a minute... was this Hobie... American?

Miles' poor little sleep-deprived mind was being blown again and again. He really didn't know if he was ever going to recover from this.

Hobie started to back up and walk away so Miles held his hands up to stop him. "Wait wait wait, autographs? I'm not uh-- sorry, this is weird," he laughed, rubbing his neck. "Nah, man. That's cool. I don't really want any autographs. Are you uh-- are you famous, actually?"

It was this Hobie's turn to blink owlishly now, hesitating a bit. A non-pierced eyebrow was raised as he said, "I... I kinda am...?"

He turned and pointed out the giant window of the hallway that they happened to be standing by, and Miles craned his neck to peer outside.

It smacked him right in the face once his eyes landed on it: a giant billboard fixed atop a neighboring building that depicted Hobie Brown in a luxurious-looking perfume ad. He sported the same locs as he did in real life, wearing shiny-looking makeup and giving the viewer the fiercest, smokiest look Miles has ever seen from a model in a hot minute. He was clutching deep purple satin, wrapped in it, basking in it. A single perfume bottle with a deep purple bow on the neck was photoshopped next to him, matching the overall vibe of the ad.

Miles was rooted to the spot, absolutely gobsmacked. How in the world did he miss that?!

Distantly, a small echo of a conversation he had in what seemed like a lifetime ago floated up from a memory. "I was briefly a runway model" pulsed in his neural pathways for a quick second.

Slowly, the gears started turning in his head. Slowly, he turned back to his dimension's Hobie Brown, who was giving him a strange sort of look.

Miles awkwardly tried to gather himself up, waving his hands around as he struggled for a non-weird explanation to his very weird behavior.

"I-I mean-- ahahaha! Yeah I mean, obviously you're famous! I was just y'know-- playin' with you. Pulling your leg and all that, I guess... heh."

The strange dubious look on Hobie's face didn't budge. "...Right."

Miles coughed conspicuously, trying to change the subject. "But uh yeah, haven't seen you around this school much then! Are you... you in a different grade than me or...?"

The corner of Hobie's mouth twitched suddenly, and for a split second Miles wondered if he said something wrong.

But then Hobie chuckled a bit. "No, I don't think so? This is my first day here. Like... ever. So I'm not really surprised you haven't seen me before. I just transferred over."

Miles practically sighed in relief and nodded, hands in his pockets. "Right! Right, very cool. Welcome to Visions then, I guess. Uh... I'm Miles! Miles Morales. Nice to meet ya!"

He goofily stuck a hand out, which Hobie actually accepted. They shook hands for a second, and then Miles was suddenly taken aback by how cold his hand was against his own skin. It was a definite contrast to the warm and lanky body he remembered practically draped across his own, back in Mumbattan.

He forced those particular memories away for now.

This Hobie was smiling down at him, sad eyes set inside a seemingly genuine expression of fondness. "Cool. I'm Hobie. But, uh, it seems like you already knew that, so."

"Aha, yeah yeah! It just-- honestly it's just the shock of, uh, running into a major celeb in the middle of my school that really got to me, I think. Sorry. I probably look like a total weirdo right now!"

Hobie shook his head, and Miles took the opportunity to really study this guy now that the shock was over and the vibe was more chill. This Hobie was just as long and lanky as the punk anarchist Miles was already well acquainted with, but he held himself completely differently. Where Spider-Hobie was all confident strut and careless swagger, this Hobie seemed to be all reserved grace and... sadness? He definitely reminded Miles of a willow tree drooping down into a lake, beautiful but tragic at the same time.

Okay Miles, get it together, he thought, stop thinking this guy is beautiful. I mean, he is beautiful yeah... but c'mon man, focus!

Hobie's non-pierced lips were moving now, finishing a sentence that Miles most definitely did not catch.

Then, Hobie looked at him expectantly.

Oh shit. He just asked a question didn't he? Fuck.

"Uh, sorry... one more time?" Miles grinned as wide as he could, apologetic. Nice going, Morales, the humorless voice in his head chimed in. Definitely not convincing this guy you're an alien from outer space or anything!

Hobie huffed a laugh and cleared his throat. "Sorry, my fault. Sometimes I mumble and... yeah. Mom says I need to work on that," he sighed, then continued, "I was just wondering if you knew where room 301 was?"

Miles nearly jumped with the force of the realization that just hit him.

"301? Mr. Moriarty's class?"

"Y-yeah, that's the one," Hobie smiled, twirling a loc on one finger and tugging it a bit. Then he tucked it back behind his ear. "I'm actually so lost it's not even funny, I'm godawful at directions and like, navigating. I've been looking for it for like 20 minutes now--"

"That's where my first class is too! AP chem!"

Hobie seemed to brighten up a bit at that, straightening his posture up from his own self-conscious hunch. "Oh cool! We should probably get going then, if we don't wanna be more late than we already are."

Without thinking, Miles places a hand on Hobie's shoulder and steers them both towards a classroom right at the end of the hallway they were in.

"Of course, right this way! Pretty lucky you ran into me, huh? I can help you find your other classes later on if you want, too."

For the first time since nearly crashing into him, Miles looked up at Hobie and saw genuine happiness in his eyes as they grinned at each other and walked down the hall together.

"...Yeah," Hobie said, nodding slowly. "Yeah that'd be pretty cool. Thanks!"

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

Their chemistry teacher ended up not being a total hardass after all! Especially when Miles rolled up with none other than Famous Model Hobie in tow, immediately causing a ripple of whispers amongst the students sat at their desks.

Mr. Moriarty was a short and stumpy old man with a kind face and a severely receding hairline. He took one look at Hobie after squinting at his attendance sheet, accepted Miles' quick explanation that they were late because Hobie's minty fresh enrollment got him all lost in these maze-like hallways, and excused their tardiness with a wave of a hand.

"It's the first day and you were very kind to help a new student out, Mr. Morales. You're both excused for today, but try not to make a habit of it, alright?"

Miles bobbed his head as he picked his way past rows of desks. "Absolutely, sir. No problem at all. Thanks a bunch!"

Hobie stuck close to him, and smiled a bit as the only two desks left empty in the whole room happened to be right next to each other, right up in the back of the class. Nice.

They took their seats and exchanged a couple of glances as they pulled out their notebooks, barely listening to their professor's quick introduction and class syllabus. Well, Miles was barely listening, anyways. He was too caught up in the euphoria of running into a dimensional variant of one of his friends, in Visions Academy no less! His mind started to wander a bit. Did a 1610 Gwen exist too? a 1610 Pavitr? Were they also here at Visions? And what was with these random stares he and Hobie were getting from their fellow classmates right now?

Every now and then a student's head would swivel back to glance in their direction, awestruck looks evident on their faces.

How famous was Hobie anyway?

Of course, there was that giant billboard conveniently placed within view of the school's back hallways near a busy intersection, but Miles really started to think. He sneakily pulled out his phone and swiped down to the lowest brightness he could in case the classroom's fluorescent lighting wasn't enough to hide the phone screen's own light.

He kept his face straight forward, eyes flicking to and from his typing that he was trying to conceal behind the student sitting in front of him. He typed Hobie Brown model, Hobie Brown perfume ad, Hobie Brown supermodel, getting absolutely nothing every single time. Well, nothing that looked like the Hobie Brown sitting next to him, who happened to be dutifully scribbling down some notes in his notebook. Miles looked down at his own empty sheet of paper and quickly copied his new friend, whipping out a pencil and hurrying to catch up with the lecture on the whiteboard before the professor moved on.

Groan. What gives? Was Hobie this super accomplished, totally famous supermodel or not? Maybe he wasn't on social media, oddly enough. Maybe he just started an illustrious career and happened to be famous only in Brooklyn right now? No, that didn't make sense. If he was some small-time influencer or whatever, people would not be asking for autographs so often that Hobie would just automatically assume anyone who recognized him wanted one. And the looks on these other kids' faces convinced Miles that... maybe something was missing. Maybe he's just not searching up the right terms?

Agh, if only Spiderman business didn't keep him totally detached from reality sometimes. He really felt like he and the rest of the world were on totally different planets. If he had any friends besides Ganke, he probably would've heard about Hobie by now.

He bit his lip in concentration, trying to multitask between forming theories and keeping up with the lesson in the front of the classroom.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a pair of eyes staring straight at him that didn't belong to the other classmates he barely even knew. He glanced over at Hobie, who quickly looked away.

Was that... an embarrassed look on his face just now? Miles scratched at his jaw a bit, more confused than before.

That was weird. Whatever. Anyways...

Before long, class was over and the bell rang. Miles and Hobie both meandered slowly up to the door and hung around the outside, leaning against the wall as they compared schedules before they had to make their way to their next class.

"Dang," Miles lamented, clutching his own schedule and moving to slot it into the cover of his binder. "Looks like we don't share any more classes besides 1st period..."

Hobie stopped his hand and squinted at the sheet again, glancing back at his own. "Uhmm... nah, actually. I think we might have 6th period together? Right after lunch."

"Do we share a lunch period too, actually?" Miles asked excitedly.

Hobie made a small noise of triumph, a smile playing over his lips. "Yeah! 1st, lunch and then 6th. Okay. Better than nothing, right?"

Miles chuckled, shoving his schedule into the plastic and tucking it under his arm. "Definitely. We can eat together at the cafeteria if you want! I'll walk you to your next class though, since it's basically right around the corner."

Hobie shrugged his own backpack back onto his shoulder and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. His eyes were cast downwards as he grinned at the floor and said, "yeah, if you don't mind... that'd be pretty cool."

This guy sure does like the word cool, Miles thought, and away to Hobie's next class they both went. They both ignored the various whispers and stares in their direction. Miles was already used to it by now.

They walked together amiably, in near lockstep for a little while before Hobie finally spoke up again.

"... So... if you don't mind me asking... why are you so nice to me if you didn't know I was famous, then?"

It was an innocent enough question, but it kinda caught Miles off guard nonetheless.

He laughed nervously. "Uhh ahaha, whaddya mean? I did know you were famous! I just... y'know my brain doesn't work the best real early in the morning. I'm, uh. Sometimes I can be pretty weird, if you haven't noticed by now."

Hobie nodded slowly, digesting this information for a bit. "Yeah, you did recognize me in the first place, I guess. It's just weird, you're like... the first person I met that doesn't look at me like I'm made out of solid gold, though. That's all..."

They exchanged glances again, and Miles' brain was working into overdrive, thinking of an appropriate response.

Before he could open his mouth, they finally reached their destination and Hobie bumped Miles' shoulder with his arm, smiling.

"So, thanks. For, uh... this. All this."

Miles raised a brow at him. "Oh yeah, this is nothing. I just walked you over to your next class, no biggie. My class is right over here anyways, so--"

Hobie laughed and shook his head, the expression lighting up his facial features unlike anything Miles has seen on that face yet.

"No, Miles. Not just this. I mean, like..." Hobie dipped his head, a bashful sort of move. "I mean, like, being nice to me. Like forreal. I really appreciate this."

They looked at each other for a moment, something real warm growing in Miles' chest all of a sudden, something... familiar.

He was just about to casually brush the gratitude off a second time with a dorky quip, before some girl's screechy voice interrupted their private little moment out of nowhere. It honestly startled them both, and the nice warm atmosphere dissipated immediately.

"Oh. My. GOD!! Is that Hobie Jones? Like actually?!"

She giggled and bounded up to them, blatantly ignoring Miles to insert herself between them and crowd into Hobie's space. She coquettishly asked for a selfie with him, promising to tag him on social media. The sudden commotion unfortunately attracted some other students who then took their cue to also bother Hobie for autographs, selfies, throwing compliments left and right.

Miles backed up out of the crowd, eyes still on Hobie as he watched the poor guy metaphorically slip on a mask, the very same that Miles saw when they first met not 2 hours ago. It was a sad, detached sort of look, and Hobie was forced to hunch in on himself to meet his fellow students' heights as they snapped selfie after selfie. His lips formed a smile all the while. His eyes did not.

A pang of sympathy hit Miles as he slowly turned away and made his way down to his own classroom without so much as a goodbye. He shrugged to himself, shaking his head. Yeah, he knew how that felt, just trying to mind your own business and live your life, do what you have to do-- and being stopped by nearly every living being within a 50 ft radius wanting their photo ops and their babies kissed.

Miles smiled to himself as he shouldered his way past other students and sauntered into his class, right on time. The bell rang as he reached his desk, and he pulled out another notebook out of his bag before the realization finally hit him with the force of a truck.

Wait... Hobie JONES?!

Miles quickly glanced around at his surroundings and mentally kicked himself yet again for choosing a seat so close to the teacher's desk, almost right up at the front. Damnit!

But the teacher wasn't in the classroom just yet, most likely making a quick run down to the printer down the hall to make copies of the class syllabus or something.

Okay, Morales. Gotta be quick.

He hastily pulled out his phone yet again, one eye on the door. He quickly typed in Hobie Jones model in his browser's search box, letting out a breath as search results loaded up and gave him exactly what he was looking for this entire time.

Bingo.

Hobie's face popped up in the image search previews, all sorts of cool and striking photoshoots lit up in all kinds of different ways. And the very first link at the top of the page? Hobie's own Flickstagram.

With a shaky hand, Miles tapped the link and impatiently waited for it to load, for his phone to get with the program and just open the damn app already. He kept glancing every so often at the door yet again, praying that the printer or copier-- or whatever-the-hell that was keeping the professor away from the class-- would keep them away for just a second longer.

He finally cast his gaze back down onto his own Flickstagram app and his heart nearly dropped out of his chest.

At the top, right next to Hobie's own smoldering profile picture was his username: hobiemjones

hobiemjones... hobie m jones. Hobie M. Jones.

M.J.

Miles exhaled again and tucked his phone away in shock just as the classroom door opened yet again and all the students quieted down. This class's teacher made their way over to their desk, piles of papers in hand. They started to pass them out to the students in the front row, introducing themself and then going over the usual attendance policies.

Miles accepted the syllabus sheets with trembling hands, turning to pass them over his shoulder once he got his own, his mind running a hundred miles a minute.

Peter talked nonstop about his wife, whenever he managed to stop talking about his baby, that is. It was always MJ this, MJ that. Flashes of a middle-aged man staring forlornly at a picture of his then-ex wife-- grieving the one who got away-- raced across his mind's eye. His universe's own MJ standing at a podium, strong but deeply hurt as she addressed all of Brooklyn after Spiderman's funeral.

"She wanted kids and I... just wasn't ready," echoed over and over in Miles' mind. Of course, they're together now. But the way Peter talked about his divorce... oh god.

Wait... was Miles ready for kids? Were he and Hobie going to have a messy on-and-off again relationship that ended up with them having to care for a spider-baby just like Mayday?! Maybe even multiple spider-babies?!?!?

Miles loosened his tie a bit, sweating profusely.

The fact that neither Hobie nor Miles were equipped with the parts to make a baby together flew right over his head. No... instead, his mind skipped straight to marriage, messy emotional fights and inevitable breakups. How was he gonna juggle school, work, Spiderman stuff and a relationship all at once?!

Without realizing, Miles started hyperventilating.

No no no no no, cool it Miles. COOL IT. Don't be weird. Miles mentally slapped himself and tried to even out his breathing as he leaned back in his seat and wiped some sweat off his brow.

He just proved to Miguel O' Hara and the entire multiverse this past spring that he can do his own thing, canon events be damned. Miles Morales was no victim to fate. Maybe all of the other spider-people had their own MJs. But maybe in this universe, MJ and Spiderman were... just friends. Good friends! ...Yeah, yeah, just friends...

The idea floated around in Miles' head throughout the entire rest of the class, but it didn't really make the tightness in his chest loosen up any at all.

Once the bell rang again and everyone started packing their things up, Miles dawdled a bit by the door, fumbling with his phone as his classmates filed out of the room. If he was late enough, maybe he'd completely miss Hobie in the hallways and not have to see him at all. Miles double-checked, triple-checked his schedule again and again, mapping out an eventual escape route through the halls in case Hobie's path did intercept Miles'.

God, Miles thought ruefully, checking the hour on his phone for the 15th time in a row and smiling awkwardly at his teacher's questioning glance. You're being so fucking weird about this right now!

The rational part of his brain kicked in and presented a quick slideshow of other calmer, more reasonable explanations as to why he really shouldn't be avoiding his new friend like the plague all of a sudden.

1. Hobie probably doesn't and won't like me, it stated. There is literally no proof that Hobie Jones is even into guys. Or me, Miles Morales.

2. Even if Hobie Jones is into guys-- or me, Miles Morales-- that does not mean the endgame is automatically marriage. No sir, no proof of that at all!

3. Canon events were officially disproven. Kinda. Mostly. Sort of?

C'mon, bro. Just man up and get out there. You're gonna be late for the next class soon anyways.

Right. He inhaled deeply and steeled himself.

"Okay well, uh. Have a nice day Mx. Gonzalez! See ya... tomorrow." Miles cringed inwardly at how lame that sounded, but his teacher didn't seem to notice as they bid him a nice day as well.

With his heart in his stomach, Miles slowly made his way into the hallway and started walking at a brisk pace, keeping his eyeline straight in front of him, trying to reach his next class on the floor below quickly but manageably. It was when he reached the stairs that his heart sank even lower.

Hobie was standing right next to the stairwell, glaring at the school map placed on the wall off to the left, fingertips on his chin as he mumbled to himself. He was glancing up and down between the map and his schedule in his hand, clearly befuddled.

Damn, he really is bad at navigating, Miles mused, once he recovered.

But as luck would have it, tragedy struck right then. Miles being pretty much the only other kid in the hallway attracted Hobie's attention, and even though Miles' feet kept him moving, he almost tripped on air once Hobie perked up upon seeing him.

"Miles!" Hobie grinned and waved him over, clearly happy to see him.

Oh noooo. Miles was not as happy to see him.

Without thinking, he launched himself down the flight of stairs, hopping over the railing and landing loudly on the 1st floor. Once steady, he basically sprinted over to his 3rd period class, completely missing the way Hobie's sunny grin slowly disappeared and his hand lowered back down to his side.

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

Lunchtime came and went. Miles ate his packed lunch at his usual perch on top of the school building, where he always hid while trying to avoid the rest of the student body. He managed to pick a good spot away from prying eyes, and it never failed him.

Hobie ate alone, at a table tucked into the corner of the cafeteria despite being invited to several other tables. He sat and chewed sadly, locs back in front of his eyes, posture hunched over and defeated.

6th period came and went. Miles purposefully kept his gaze averted as Hobie walked in 5 minutes late. They sat at opposite ends of the room, never acknowledging each other's existence.

The school day ended and Miles made his way back to the dorms, sighing with relief once he glanced out the window and saw giant rainclouds rolling in over the horizon. Man, was he glad he got to bunk up on campus with his best friend! He greeted Ganke, kicked off his shoes and climbed up onto his bunkbed, laying back with a sigh. Maybe tomorrow he'd confront Hobie about his erratic behavior and apologize. Maybe.

But that was a problem for future Miles...

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

Outside, the rain started falling fast and hard.

Outside, Hobie M. Jones waited miserably by the curb with an umbrella in hand, getting drenched by the water nonetheless. He checked his phone for the 15th time and sniffled angrily, pocketing it and gripping onto his umbrella handle.

Late. Again.

His mother was late to pick him up, as usual.

He swiped at a tear rolling down his cheek and finally loosened his ponytail, letting his locs fall all around his face.

Once she arrived, his mother was going to inevitably ask him how his day was, look only slightly concerned about his angry tears and ask if he made any new friends anyways, despite knowing the answer.

No, mom, Hobie would say as he kept his eyes glued to the car window.

No. I didn't make any friends.

[soap-is-an-artist]

Hooray... it's 7 in the morning and I stayed up all night listening to the imperium... I feel so happy and satisfied with my life choices...

I am feeling very much not cowabunga, dude

[SEVERE rambling in tags]

[viatrix-glow]

new di x warrior cats

name explanations and more info below :3

basic stuff

-each agency is a clan, not each unit. 14-15 clans would be silly and then we would have some clans with 5 cats and some with 2.

-starpro -> lightclan. i couldn’t call them “starclan” for obvious reasons. light is somewhat synonymous with star, so i’m going with that.

-cospro -> nightclan. i don’t think the cats in warriors know the word “cosmic”, but cosmic implies cosmos implies night sky, so we’re going with night

-rhyth lin -> rippleclan. ripple is sort of a synonym to rhythm….? this one was hard

-new di -> fortuneclan. this one is a stretch but neither “new” or “dimension” have synonyms that really fit a clan name. fortune is something that relates to multiple characters in new di though

-starclan still sort of exists, but the cats do not believe in them the way they do in warriors. they are more of a nursery tale than anything, and select cats (ex: tatsumi) believe in them, but it is not written into their code. medicine cats can still interpret signs, but they do not necessarily think of them as coming from starclan.

-medicine cat forbidden romance is not a thing here

-intermingling of clans is ok and common

-there’s like. other cats in their clans besides just the enstars cast i assume

cat names/why i chose them

fortuneclan:

knights

-tsukasa -> scarletstar (scarletblossom) . he is the leader of fortuneclan because he is one of the new di reps for the summits. both scarlet and blossom were chosen bc of his last name (scarlet is a red color… kinda similar to cherry…. and blossom for the cherry blossom).

-leo -> lionheart. ok this one is kind of cheating because lionheart is already an existing warrior, but…come on….

-izumi -> silverspring. sora describes his color as silver, and spring is in his first name

-ritsu -> frostmoon. his first name means cold moon according to the wiki so i just rehashed it

-naru -> goldenroar. since she doesn’t like her first name i didn’t want to use “storm”, and her last name can be read as “thunder” but that’s a little too close to storm? so golden for her hair and roar for her last name

switch

-natsume -> sageeye. a sage is similar to a wizard, and eye is in his first name . also the “dovesong” mentioned is wataru :)

-tsumugi -> bluewing. he is a bluebird. warrior cats probably wouldn’t straight up call a cat “bluebird” so i put wing there instead. deputy cause he’s the vp

-sora -> skyspring . sora means sky. spring is in his last name. i could have used “stream” instead to differentiate him from sena but i think spring is cuter

mam/df

-madara -> tawnystripe . tawny bc it’s like kind of close to calico if you squint. stripe(s) is in his last name

[evansbby]

GUYS LONG HAIR CHRIS CAME IN MY DREAM LAST NIGHT 😭😭😭😭😭

[hopelessbaddays]

i believe i am the only person who thinks Costume is literally a sentient grayscale mario costume

[tenkos-heart]

"horikoshi confirms my hero academia's epilogue ends in 5 chapters"

(rant thing in tags)

[miscellaneous--bones]

"So what did you do to end up on death row, anyway?" Sebastian's cackle died off. His tail shifted as he leans back against the sofa, raising his bottle against the florescent lights at the edge of the room.

Saoirse's own bottle was set beside her on the desk shed pulled over. Her legs swung idly as she watched a stray bubble float passed the window."I killed my husband with a pair a' fabric scissors."

Sebastian's ear wiggled as his focus switches to her, his brow furrowing. "Hah... sheesh, what'd the bastard do to deserve that? Ohhhhoho did he cheat on you or somthin'? Didn't take you for the jealous type," his surprise melted away to a laughter again. He went back to swirling his alcohol and his tail thumped at the other end of the circular room.

Saoirse's hand quietly fell to her thigh as she took a moment to will her good eye to leave darkness outside the window. Leaning back, she looked towards the lounging salesman. "... told you 'm not human, right?"

"You've mentioned it." Sebastian stilled as he met her gaze, noticing the way her mood shifted. Damn, he'd hit a sore spot.

"Dunno if urbanshade's files had anything on selkies," Saoirse was relieved to see recognition in his expression. "But he sold my coat. It was.. right after my son's death, somethin... punishment maybe? 'E didn't hold up his end of the deal n' I snapped."

It was a longer sentence then he might have ever heard out of her, and brought up more questions than answers. Saoirse had kids? Kids that died? "Deal?"

"'S a long story. He said if I could give him a son, he'd give back my coat. Guess I should've known he was lying after his 5th birthday." There was a sadness settling on her shoulders. Sebastian watched her gaze flutter across the carpet.

Saoirse seemed farther away than before while he contemplated. She'd already read sebastian's file, but it was strange to be on the learning end. It felt rude to pry, but worse to drop it.

"What was his name? Your son." He clarified. Saoirse's eyes finally lifted, "Jonah. He was 9."

Her hand came up to rub at the eye that wasn't scarred and droopy. Her claws caught her hair before she rested her chin on her palm. "His father's name was Joseph."

"So what he... stole your coat to force y'to have his kids?" Sebastian's lip twitched as he spoke. Douche was an understatement, and he would've killed him too.

The expendable reached over to take the neck of her bottle. She swallowed before she answered. Liquid courage, or something. "I thought I lost it, at first. He, comforted me on the beach, and took me home. Didn't learn till later he'd taken it and at that point we'd been married a few years."

"He wanted some fancy magic wifey to show off. I wanted to leave as soon as I found out, but he refused. Said if he got a son- something about his estate- then he'd set it up so we could get divorced. I'd get my coat if he got his kid." As she continued sebastian's face continued to tighten. His tail drew closer and his claws flexed.

"What a fucker. Good thing you killed him. Even if- y'know." Saoirse's mouth twitched upwards. It tickled her to see him so angry at a dead man he never knew, and it was cathartic to be validated by someone who'd been wronged the way sebastian had.

"Gets worse. My first kid was a girl, a selkie." There was a terrible smile across Saoirse's chin, and a glint in her eye. It was angry, in the worst way. "What was her name?" Sebastian questioned.

"Hilda." Her brow furrowed, and her smile faltered. "I named her Hilda."

"Selkies need to be in the ocean fer a while after we're born, to form the bond, and grow our fur and shit. To be healthy. Joseph would've had to give me my coat for her to make it, an I would've brought her back when she was old enough. But... he wanted a son. So..." she rubbed at her eye again, rougher this time. Saoirse pulled in a shuddering breath. Sebastian rose to the edge of his seat. his tail thumped again, closer.

"So he just let her DIE? his kid??" He shouted, louder than he meant to. Saoirse shrugged, taking another sip out of her bottle. "'Probably didn't want me to run off with her or some shit."

The two sat for a moment, allowing the shifting of the facility to fill the quiet. Saoirse breathed, and tried to regain her composure. Ugh, crying in front of the great sabatour, how embarrassing. Sebastian's thoughts raged. His claws picked at the sticker on his bottle as he slumped back on the couch.

"Y'didn't deserve that." Saoirse breathed again, once, twice.

"...you didn't either."

Their eyes met again. Somewhere, gunfire. Saoirse's leg began to sway again as Sebastian laughed. The room felt lighter again, and saoirse chuckled alongside him.

"MAN this place sucks!" The serpent cackled. The selkie hunched over, a hand over her chin as the two were left breathless. "Ugh.. outta all the stupid suckers down here, you seem to be the most tolerable.

Sebastian lifted himself from that creaky little couch and chugged the rest of his bottle. Grabbing the forgotten remnants of the stash they'd found, he called over his shoulder, "I'm not keen to share all these with anyone else, so let's see how good you are at navigating monsters under the influence."

"Hey if you weren't so big I could drink you under the table!" Saoirse pushed herself off the desk and trailed after him, grabbing her own drink on the way.

"Yeah, I'll show you big, short stack." "If I didn't know any better I'd think yer comin' onta' me, solace."

[pilonciillo]

i genuinely don’t know how i’m supposed to act at my age

[cherrirui-official]

Cringetober Day 20: Hanahaki Disease

!! CW // Blood warning for the drawing under the cut vvvvv !!

!! Reminder that I won't be doing all days, only a select few !!

Sorry Howdy, but SOMEONE had to suffer and it's your turn lmao

[constantvariations]

Yknow, instead of basing a lackluster at best character off a nazi, Coco could have been Chajka, based off the heroic Chajka Klinger, a jewish woman who was essentially a scribe of history

You can even keep the minibag machine gun considering the history of jewish women hiding guns in their purses

[clowningaroundmars]

previously:

It seemed like that was yet another constant through time and space; in every universe Miles Morales is in, he was always going to be annoyingly stubborn. And annoyingly self-sacrificing, too.

She relented. Leap of faith, after all.

“If you’re sure… then stick by me, and we’ll do it,” Gwen reassured him, hoping her smile under her mask was readable in any way at all.

They exchanged glances one more time, and then braced themselves for the inevitable.

well. things certainly ramp up quite a bit here in this installment. hope y'all are enjoying the show so far bc it sure does get interesting here for our fave teen vigilantes!

mind the warnings on part 1 here, for surrreee! enjoy :)

<< part 3 of 4 >>

To say that they fought like hell would be an understatement.

And to say that they ran like hell would also be an understatement as well.

That henchman down in the basement level of the compound wasn’t lying when he told the Doctor that he had the entire building on lockdown.

Even the scarce amount of still-working scientists left on the upper floors had all evacuated and now every single exit was sealed tight with emergency locks, metal panels blocking all windows.

They clawed, kicked, slipped, slid, punched and flipped their way past several armored goons, the computer tower on 42's back earning a bullet and a few scratches in the process. He tried keeping the minions away with powerful Muay Thai kicks to protect it as best he could.

It weighs him down only a little bit. Gwen kept looking over her shoulder to check on him every other second or so, but he seemed to be managing just fine with the tower on his back anyhow.

Once the two vigilantes were finally able to break away from the initial fight with what seemed like the entirety of Upstate New York’s small private army, they skittered and bolted through the high-tech facility at top speed, ducking and dodging various bullets and objects that flew through the air in their direction.

“So, uh--” Gwen panted, shooting a few webs behind her to trap some henchmen giving chase, “what was that escape plan you had in mind earlier? Could really use it right about now!”

42 slides onto his knee right underneath a table in an open-floor break room and then kicks it in order to provide cover from the rest of the hail of bullets.

Gwen leaps right over to join him, webbing up a microwave she snags off of a counter to use as a heavy projectile.

“Buy me a couple of seconds! I need to check my maps again,” 42 shouts over the sound of bullets firing and shouting, minding his back and trying his best to protect the computer as it still downloads the information he needs.

“Okay, but no promises!” Gwen replies, heaving the microwave over her shoulder and swinging it like a mace over her head.

Gwen manages to send the appliance sailing into a few henchmen, which probably knocks one out onto the ground, but she dived back behind their makeshift cover too quickly to see it.

The men start shouting loudly again, so maybe it did do some damage after all!

“... Do me a favor real quick,” 42 then says from his position on the ground, leaning on an elbow, “what color’s the wire on my pack right now?”

“Uhhh, your wire?” Gwen says quickly, still breathing hard. “The one connected to the computer? Oh, that’s… it’s not glowing anymore!”

42 bobs his head as he still works on his mask, giving it taps on the side every now and then. “Perfect, it’s done. Get this thing off of me, then! Let’s destroy it!”

Gwen laughs. “I’ve got a better idea!”

She rips her webs off of 42’s pack, separating the heavy computer tower from it and hoisting it up over her shoulder. She takes a peek over the edge of the table and promptly ducks back down to dodge another bullet.

One of the henchmen spots her with something hoisted over an arm and shouts at his peers to get out of the way.

Gwen then springs up while they’re sort of distracted, heaves the big bulky thing behind her and then she lets it swing. With the help of her super-strength, the tower sails through the air like a grenade, heading straight for a couple of goons still taking cover behind their own upturned table.

Everyone’s eyes follow it, as it seems to fly over in slow motion, heading straight for one henchman’s shocked face… when all of a sudden--

A long dark tentacle shoots out from a room off to the side and intercepts the machine, metal coming into contact with metal ringing loudly into the air and officially signaling the end of the fight between the henchmen and the vigilantes.

The computer hangs in the air in its grasp for a moment before the villain pulls it inside and promptly glides out of the room on his other tentacles.

It was of course, none other than the ever-so-charming Doctor Octopus himself.

The bullets stopped flying and most of the henchmen were already incapacitated anyways, so the silence that fell over the area wasn’t unexpected, but still very unsettling nonetheless.

“It seems my incompetent staff here hasn’t quite given you both the warm welcome that you deserve,” he announces, commanding voice echoing menacingly through the room, “a shame, really. Allow me,”

Yikes on bikes, Gwen thought, biting her lip.

He wasn’t adorned in his smart little suit that he was wearing earlier down in the compound’s basement level earlier… he was fully suited up in armor now, face partially obscured by a pair of high-tech goggles that featured two other lenses on the sides. Those smaller lenses constantly clicked and whirred, which intrigued Gwen.

42, on the other hand, didn’t seem so impressed. He jumped up suddenly from his cover as the Doctor advanced on them and extended a gauntlet out, letting several small purple sparks shoot out from the knuckles.

They looked an awful lot like the purple sparky-things he used to destroy the camera that watched over Gwen in her storage-room-slash-prison.

She picked up the table they used for cover and tossed it towards the Octopus while he was still slightly distracted from attempting to dodge them.

As expected, his tentacles took care of these pesky little distractions for him. In one graceful movement, he destroyed the table and rendered it into smithereens, the wood scattering everywhere below his feet.

“Time to go!” 42 shouts as he scrambles away from the menacing appendages striking out at them like cobras.

Gwen agrees, hot on his heels.

Geez, this sure was a lot like her encounter with earth-1610’s Dr. Octavius, down to the evil tentacle-chasing down a narrow hallway and all! Good times.

But now wasn’t the time for fond reminiscing, especially given that this particular variant of the Octopus was more than likely out for blood thanks to the two teens’ earlier escapades. They destroyed the Doc’s super collider and stole hundreds of his files straight out of his labs… they were cooked if he ever got a single tentacle on them!

They skid down halls and narrowly avoid becoming minced meat via tentacle-butchering by using their cunning and tossing any object they can get their hands on at the villain. Their every attempt is thwarted, exasperating them both.

"Get back here, you two! You won't escape!" The Doctor bellows behind them, and Gwen swears she can feel his hot breath down her neck at some points.

They leap and duck away from striking tentacles, jump off of walls to get a head start around corners, crash through walls of glass in sleek office spaces. Papers and tech fly everywhere.

“Miles--!” Gwen calls out when the two teens' momentum end up with them throwing themselves onto some railing on a mezzanine overlooking the main entrance lobby.

The lobby was huge, spacious, and obnoxiously pretentious. Big dark stone pillars stood thick and tall, holding up a vaulted ceiling that seemed to reach up into the sky. The receptionist’s area sat at the very center, round desks interconnected to form a big circle filled with computers, files, and the like.

The vigilantes looked down in dismay at the giant double-doors and the windows leading to their freedom, all sealed with the same metallic plating found in Gwen's prison-room. Which means it was also most likely held shut by whatever power source this building used. Shit, shit, shit!

Doc Ock was quickly covering ground, only a bit disgruntled from the narrow halls that slightly impeded his movement, and rapidly gaining on them.

The two looked at each other with wide eyes for a split second before swiftly turning around, sitting on the railing and then throwing themselves heels-over-head on the way down.

Gwen was thinking maybe they could hide for a split second if she stuck to the underside of the flooring and confused the Octopus long enough to web up that node on his back and attempt to rip it out, before she yelped in shock at metal claws gripping her ankle not even halfway down and yanking her back up with vicious force.

"Whooooaaa!" Gwen's voice echoes throughout the giant room.

“Gwen!!!” 42 yells, now on the floor and skidding to a stop. He whirls around in time to see Doc Ock gracefully climb down from the mezzanine as well, tossing his friend between two tentacles like she was a plush doll.

He holds both of her wrists in one vice grip, grinning like a madman in her face as she struggles against his technology, thrashing this way and that.

“Now, now. Where are you both off to in such a hurry? I told you I’d be giving you a proper welcome into the facility, and that’s just what I intend to do… after you two do me a solid, that is.”

“Screw you, Octavius! Let my friend go!” 42 roars, his mask seemingly projecting his voice much louder than it actually was. “I’ve got this whole place rigged with explosives and they’re ready to blow at any moment now!”

It's a bluff, but Gwen prays to the universe that the Doctor buys it.

Doc Ock feigns shock. “My goodness! What a couple of rowdy young kids you are! I think someone ought to teach you two some… manners,” he growls, advancing quickly in 42’s direction and keeping a tight grip on Gwen’s arms.

“Prowler, listen to me... just go!” Gwen pleads with 42, swinging and kicking uselessly in the air as Doc Ock parries 42’s own blows with his other tentacles.

“Not happening!” 42 grunts. He narrowly dodges a knife-like tentacle strike to his head.

It was no use. The two were already locked in a battle to the death, and there was nothing that she could say to possibly change their minds.

They waltzed around the area until they found themselves in the middle of the lobby, still exchanging blows.

“Well, isn’t this precious! How sweet,” the Doctor comments snidely. He swings Gwen up into the air and slams her down onto a desk, splintering it into pieces and making her shout in pain. “The girl doesn’t want to leave the boy, the boy doesn’t want to leave the girl…” He pins her down with a tentacle around her neck.

“Gross,” Gwen mutters, still working at using her strength to free herself from the Doctor’s vice-like grip, wood splinters digging into her back.

“It’s all so sentimental, it could make me weep! How about this,” he shoots out a tentacle and wraps it around 42’s torso suddenly, trapping his arms by his sides and bringing everyone closer together. “I’ll make you both a deal; you hand me my data and agree to be my useful test subjects. You’ll both be kept alive as long as you obey my every whim! Or I’ll kill you both! How’s that sound?”

42 scoffs, still struggling against his restraints. “Sounds terrible. How about you let us go and we kick your ass instead?”

The Doctor lets out a loud, long laugh. “My dear boy, that sounds even worse!”

Gwen takes the opportunity of the small distraction to hook her legs onto the tentacle steadily planning to choke the life out of her, and hangs on for dear life. The Doctor feels her using his own appendage as leverage, and whips back around to her.

“What in the world do you think you’re d-- AGH!”

She remembers what her friend Hobie Brown taught her during a riot in his dimension.

The anarchists and Hobie's own little Spider Band drove a group of cops away from a squatter's village somewhere in Southwark once on Earth-138 before, and when she was apprehended by one of the big oafs, she was quickly taught how to use an arm bar to effectively escape his grasp and continue the fight.

She attempts it here and with a bit more concentrated strength...

Success!

Gwen manages to pry the evil tentacle off of her neck and begins to tie it into knots as it flails around, taking her on a joyride of a lifetime.

She blocks strikes from the arm, as if trying to wrangle an aggravated cobra in mid-air, grabbing its snapping claw and holding on.

42 also took a page out of her playbook and quickly seized his opportunity; he managed to shoot out another one of the zappy-rockets he keeps in his gauntlets, hitting Doc Ock’s evil face and getting the villain to drop him due to the electrical shocks.

“Do that again, man! But aim at his arms next time!” Gwen calls over to 42, who’s now quickly weaving and dodging the vengeful tentacles all trying to get back at him.

They snap, gnash, and 42 even swears they hiss at him at some point while he waits for his gauntlets to cool down, buying him some time. He makes attempts at grabbing them back when he can and attempting to crush them between his claws, blocking them most other times.

The sounds of metal striking against metal ring out throughout the spacious lobby area once more.

Gwen is still stuck on the bucking bronco that is Doc Ock’s upper right tentacle and not showing any signs of letting go. She manages to finally connect her feet to a stone pillar as the Doc passes it trying to chase down his escaped captor.

She sticks to it and uses that as an opportunity to yank at Doc Ock’s tentacle with all of her might in the other direction and send the Doctor flying along with it.

“Aaagh!!” He shouts. The man is slammed onto the ground hard and rolls several feet away, moaning in pain.

Gwen looks at the severed tentacle in her grasp, now laying limp like a sad, wet noodle. She hadn't realized she even used so much of her strength to rip it out of his node like that. She drops down from the pillar and tosses the hated thing aside.

42 comes up to her, panting, nodding at her in approval.

“Goddamn, Gwendy. Nice one!” He remarks, bumping her on the shoulder before engaging something on his gauntlets that caused every nook and cranny of it to glow a bright purple. “I’m ending this now, we’ve been in here for far too long!”

He then crouches down, steadying himself. Gwen follows his lead, also equally tired and definitely just as over it as he is.

They both take a running leap into the air, 42 flying forward with his claws extended like he usually did, Gwen leaping into the air with both of her wrists extended in front of her, ready to finally let the last of her web fluid hold down the Octopus for as long as they needed to ensure their eventual escape.

They were so close to descending on the mad doctor and finishing this fight for good, or at least incapacitating him for the time being when…

42 suddenly yelped in pain and immediately crumpled onto the ground, his body skidding a little ways away from Doctor Octopus.

He didn’t get back up.

Gwen was bewildered. “Mi-- Prowler?! Oh, god!”

She recovered quickly and shot a web out to the ceiling instead, narrowly avoiding a vengeful tentacle swiping through the air at her violently. She noticed blood on one of his tentacles, the same one he used to lash out at 42!

Damn it all to hell!

Gwen swings around a pillar to put some distance between herself and her foe, but hated being out of sight to keep an eye on her friend. She opted to stick onto the side of one of these huge pillars and assess the situation from there.

The Doctor pushes himself off the ground and slowly rises to stand. He wears an evil grimace on his aging face, clutching his head. He takes his goggles off of his face and tosses them to the side, rage blazing away in the pupils of his eyes which was visible even from where Gwen was perched.

“No more games,” the Doctor grits out, gathering up his strength to pick up 42’s unconscious body up off of the ground and shake him around like a ragdoll. “You want him alive? You come to me instead. Let's see if you can manage to do that!”

And just like that, the Doctor uses his remaining tentacles to climb back up the mezzanine from the floor below and disappears around a corner, carrying a limp Prowler along with him.

Gwen panics.

“No!!” She shouts, pushing herself off the pillar and using her webs to rocket towards the entrance that Doc Ock just disappeared into.

The only things on her mind were friend, hurt, could die, have to keep up!

Every nerve inside of her body was lit up to a thousand degrees, her only focus being 42 and nothing else. It could very well have been a trap that she was falling into at that moment, but she really couldn’t have cared less.

The only things flashing through her mind as she gave chase down the long, winding corridors of the facility in her attempt to keep up with the monster kidnapping her friend were the memories of her own late best friend, Peter Parker of Earth-65.

The events of that fateful night in her school continued to pump away in her mind just as the blood pumped through her veins while she made her way back into the maze of the back halls.

Gotta take down that lizard, she remembered thinking before swinging down onto the scene to save her classmates.

She remembered every single blow she dealt to what she thought was a villain, but really turned out to be her bestest friend in the world whose science experiment had gone horribly awry.

She remembered his beat up face. She remembered…

She remembered...

She skidded around a corner and promptly halted. The sheer horror alone over what she saw smacked her like a wall of bricks.

Here, they had accessed a hallway which had a door at the end. Gwen saw the telltale sign plastered onto it: it was the door that led to the roof.

The Doctor was angrily wrenching it open with his tentacles to get past the emergency locks. If he got to the roof with her friend… there was no telling what he would do to the kid if she didn’t reach them in time…

And she just couldn’t let that happen!

Instead of following the be-tentacled evil-doer on his heels, Gwen decided to make a huge gamble and escape through a sealed window instead. From there, she could use the tiny bit of web fluid she still had in her web shooters and get to the roof faster than him.

Taking a breath, she spun on her heels and dived into the nearest room. She threw herself onto a panel, fingers digging into the scarce space between the edges and the window seals, summoning her massive strength yet again to accomplish the one feat she needed to right now.

She prayed to every single deity that ever existed out there...

And they answered.

The metal sheet was nothing more than that-- a sheet. It immediately buckled under her hands and crumpled like aluminum, and she tore it right off of its frame, green electricity fizzling and popping out from above.

She threw herself out of the window, crashing shoulder-first into the glass.

Glass shards flew everywhere, sparkling like stars in the night sky as she fell, turning in what seemed like slow-motion in the air to aim herself correctly.

She extended her arms out, took aim… and shot the very last bit of web fluid that she had in her shooters to connect to the edge of the roof.

Thanking every single god out there that ever existed, Gwen flew up to the ledge and sprinted over to the roof access door as quickly as her aching legs could manage.

The door was suddenly torn open by big menacing mechanical tentacles and out came Doc Ock and Miles-42, followed by a few of the Doctor’s own private little goon squad behind him shortly after.

Gwen realized with a start that she was standing on a helipad on top of the huge building, and that the Doctor most likely intended to lead the both of them up here to access his getaway vehicle easier.

But whatever his plan was for the teens, Gwen didn’t intend to let anyone get away now. Bruised, battered, bleeding, sweaty, tired... and with zero web fluid to her name, she still had a lot of fight left in her.

A lot.

“Doc Ock! Put him down!” She roars into the night air, the scene illuminated only by the glow of the full moon hanging overhead. Her breath clouds in front of her.

The Doctor sneers at her, and his henchmen promptly train their guns onto her. “Like there’s a chance in hell! You two have beaten my men unconscious, bombed my greatest creation yet, destroyed one of my beloved appendages, and trashed my most productive facility in the entirety of the New York state! You? I'll kill you just like I should have the second I found you! And then I'll end your little boyfriend's life, too.”

“Not my boyfriend!” Gwen throws back as she breaks into a run, dodging and weaving bullets shot at her and somersaulting over to them to put the remaining backup out of commission.

She fights them all viciously, much in the same way 42 did whenever it came time to exchange blows.

Despite the chaos of the fight, she never took an eye off of her new friend.

“How dare you ugly buffoons-- the nerve of you all-- kidnapping my friend-- after you guys kidnapped me!” She complained through gritted teeth, letting her anger and frustration out on these bumbling idiots with every punch thrown and every kick delivered.

She held nothing back, even snatching a gun out of a henchman’s hands at one point, snapping it in half and whipping him unconscious with the remaining pieces.

“I am so! Over! This!” She shouted, now dodging the snapping and hissing tentacles of their evil boss.

“Stop now and we can perhaps-- urgh! Perhaps we can come to an agreement!” The Doctor grunts, still daring to trade blows with her as she advances on him, the white lenses of her mask now glowing eerily with rage.

“I don’t want an agreement, you idiot, I want my friend back!”

“Ah!” Doc Ock backs up a bit nervously, heading directly for the roof’s edge. “Well… why didn’t you just say so? I’m sure we can come to an arrangement of some kind, perhaps…” he glances over his shoulder, now that he and his hostage are dangerously close to the edge, “perhaps you can even… get him yourself!”

Here, the Doctor leaps over to the side, narrowly avoiding a fist to the jaw and tossing 42’s still unconscious body into the air… letting him tumble right over the ledge.

"Catch!" He announces brazenly.

42 falls down...

down...

down.

Gwen watches in horror.