#ideas or something here and there. I should have had the text translated already and finished the worldbuilding slideshow

[icewindandboringhorror]

Daily Log 7

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Finished all of the little things I carved out of avocado pits, will maybe post pictures at some point? I painted some sections (like for the eye I carved, I made part of it white for contrast, etc.) and then generally glazed them with some shiny paint stuff. Now I really wish I had more avocado pits, I was unsure at first, but I have some new ideas.. I want to try inlaying stones like I've seen in some pictures, similar to the same ones I use for eyes in my sculptures. >:3 (random google image example of the stones inside, like this sort of thing V)

Low effort/small house cleaning tasks, did a few dishes, put up laundry, organized things, put up the recycling, paid bills, etc.

Still extremely sleepy and unfocused, it was hot last night and the cats woke me up multiple times so I only got a few hours of sleep and barely had any energy to do anything and also had a headache and back pain a lot of the day. ToT

Finally made an appointment I was supposed to make like 4 days ago lol..

Gave wet food to the cats (this is an ordeal because George eats way faster than Noodle, so I have to separate them and stand guard so George doesn't vacuum his up immediately then run over and try to eat all of his brothers food.. evil boy must be watched to prevent his crimes )

Edited videos for like.. 15 minutes but still have not been very productive on that front (or editing costume photos or anything) due to shoulder pain and stuff making it hard to type/use mouse much on the computer. grrbbb >:V

Spent 10 minutes looking up a weird pendant I had in my rock collection area and found out it's an old piece of costume jewelry from the 60s(?) and could be worth like $200 potentially, which is cool. I'm not sure if I'll sell it though because I do think it's quite unique and good for a prop when making wizard character inventories, etc, and I'd never be able to find anything like it again (it's this one below.. it's very weird.. looks like something a mage would have lol)

Translated the tapestry text for 5 minutes, and got out some tubs of clothes to start organizing them to sell outfits and stuff online, but then felt ill and had to go lay down so now the tubs are just sitting out on the floor ghgh..

Notable sights: It rained a bit and the sky was very pretty at one point. Didn't get to go outside today due to schedule/low energy, so no clovers or anything. Saw a fat squirrel out the window once though. Also when I was looking through my "rock collection" (which also includes marbles, dice, pieces of glass, stones, gems, rubber balls, seashells, smooth wood, jewelry scraps, etc. ggh.. really more "shiny things collection" but it's mostly rocks, so) for interesting stones to possibly put into avocado pits in the future, I saw a lot of pretty rocks I hadn't thought about in a while, so that was nice.

Goals moving forward: Focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with ones I have. Physical therapy exercises. Finish and upload videos, edit costume pictures & etc. Do the new costumes I've planned. MAKE SCULPTURES at some point, I miss them.

Notable foods: Nothing really.. but it's an asparagus day tomorrow I think so.. >:)c hehehehe... Oh, I did try a bite of corn, which I really really love corn but am not supposed to have it on my diet. The miniscule morsel was sufficiently cherished. Still craving hearty stuff despite resuming my iron supplements lol..

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 13

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader Summary: Miguel has a nightmare. Word Count: 25,905 (I was really aiming for less than 20k, I'm sorry) Warnings: Miguel talks about his life before Gabriella and his nightmares; emotional Miguel, he tears up (I'm sorry); soft Miguel; he makes progress, so the sad parts are worth it for his healing; I tried to include some translations of the Spanish within the text as it's dialogue for Miguel; it's just an emotional night for both reader and Miguel Masterlist Music Inspo (You can find the official Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Vigil" - Bill Conti, David Duke (instrumental) "Flaws" - Vancouver Sleep Clinic "Mexican Dream" - Piero Piccioni (instrumental) "Me Before You Orchestral" - Craig Armstrong (orchestral) "Someone To Stay" - Vancouver Sleep Clinic "Philadelphia Morning" - Bill Conti (instrumental) "I'll Be Good" - Jaymes Young "Here with Me" -d4vd "Ladyfingers" - Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass (instrumental)

Part 13

Miguel flicks a screen away. It's about 5 o’clock in the afternoon and he knows that by now, the energy in the Spider Society’s HQ is dwindling. The morning and afternoon buzz is dying down. The chatter of the cafeteria is replaced with quiet murmurs, and the hallways should be less stuffy, no longer occupied by groups of spider people heading out on missions or training, or for casual hanging out.

Soon, the building will be empty and it will only be him who remains. For about an hour or so before he, too, goes home.

That fact alone is an indication of progress and Miguel knows it. Almost a year ago, Miguel used to work through the night. Every night. He fought sleep with caffeine, rubbed his eyes, and shook his head as if that helped shed his exhaustion. When it got too much, he’d take breaks and walk the vacant hallways. It was only until he was beyond exhaustion, when his body begged him for sleep, that Miguel would take naps.

That has changed, however, and now he goes to the penthouse every night. Some days he stays at HQ a little later when it’s necessary, but not like he used to when he’d spent the nights here in the lab. Alone. It was on those dark and lonely hours that Miguel would wish for daylight, wish for the buzz from the Spider Society, even if he was inside his lab. Now, he actually sees his bedroom every night, where he sleeps and rests because his nightmares have decreased. They’re no longer daily like they used to.

Yes, in an hour or so, Miguel will head home for the day because he’s made it one of his goals to move forward. He’s stuck with it ever since his near death experience as he promised his family that he would try. He goes home even when some evenings are harder than others, when he finds himself utterly alone in such a large and empty space, but little things have made it easier. It’s all little things, and they’re all directly linked to you.

You, who is now living with him.

Temporarily.

Miguel has to remind himself. This arrangement is just for a few months, if your landlord actually manages to make the building livable again within that time span. And then, you’ll be back at your apartment. Back at your universe.

And the penthouse will be empty again.

Miguel scoffs at himself. A large hand covers part of his face in frustration. You’ve only stayed at the penthouse for a few weeks and he already hates the feeling, the simple idea of you being gone. It frustrates him. He feels other emotions stir within him at the idea; emotions that are heavy and raw. And that’s something he dislikes. That he feels like that. He doesn’t let himself explore those emotions yet but he knows he’ll have to when the time comes.

Miguel drops his arm at his side and glares at one of his screens. He needs to focus. There’s still some things he needs to get done today before he heads out. Less than a year ago, he wouldn’t be worried about finishing up before his personal deadline because he had no plans to leave. He could work through the evening, through the night, but that’s different recently. He wants to go home to keep his promise, and there’s also you. Your temporary stay at the penthouse makes Miguel feel even more inclined to leave, to finish soon so he can meet you there.

It’s so strange to Miguel. So beautifully strange to want to go home.

He looks at the time. Soon, you’ll be coming in to tell him that you’re heading out for the day. You started to let him know months ago, right after his accident when he asked if you wanted to help him with the weekly reports, a new responsibility within the Spider Society. Miguel remembers the first few times it happened. He felt that you didn’t have to let him know since this isn’t a proper job per say but you kept doing it every day, and soon he found that your daily visit before you went home was a silent reminder. He started to think that if you were going home, maybe it was time for him to wrap things up and head home himself, especially with his newly made promise to his family to try and do better. Your daily goodbye, then, has continued over the months, even now when you live with him.

As Miguel stares blankly at the screen, he thinks about how you always say you’re heading to the “penthouse.” He doesn’t know why but he picked up on that small detail, how you never say “home.” He knows it’s not your home like your apartment, where it’s far more welcoming, homey, and cozy. His penthouse has been the same for years since Gabriel and his mom helped him decorate it, and it lacks warmth, personality, and love. Or at least, that’s how Miguel views it. He hopes that’s the reason and not due to you feeling uncomfortable or unwelcome at the penthouse because when Miguel said that his home was yours, he meant it.

Miguel blinks and refocuses his gaze back to the information on the screen, trying to concentrate. He wants to get this done quickly but he finds it hard to concentrate. There’s a report to read about a specific universe, then there’s reports on anomaly matter to inspect, and he needs to check the gizmos because an update might be necessary again. As the list goes on in his head, Miguel grows tense. There’s so much to do and he can’t focus.

He sighs as he steps off his platform and heads to one of the desks in the lab, heading straight to a locked drawer that in seconds is open. He retrieves the fabric, feeling its weight on his hand. It belongs to him but it smells like you.

He brings it close to his face and inhales. He blinks a few times and slowly feels grounded as he continues to breath in your scent. He didn’t plan this, it never occurred to him, really.

He sighs again, this time not in frustration but in relief. He feels better. He lowers the fabric and glances at it, his scarf.

Several weeks ago, he wrapped it around your neck to keep you warm on New Year’s Eve when he noticed you shivering as you and the rest of the spider gang were waiting to welcome the new year at Miles’s universe. Then, he used it to dry your tears when you cried in gratitude over the fact that you’re no longer alone like all those years after your Peter’s death. You took it with you that night. Both of you forgot that you had it. You brought it to him on the Spider Society’s first business day of the new year, apologizing for forgetting to give it back that night and of course, Miguel dismissed the apology. There was no problem nor need to apologize, he said back then as he accepted it, immediately noticing your scent on it from wearing it. He didn’t make mention of it though and he ended up pushing that knowledge aside as the two of you began to talk about something else.

It was hours later that same day when he found himself cursing in Spanish in frustration at something, he can’t even remember what it was about now, when he eyed the scarf. He was alone, not even Lyla was around to poke fun at him about it, so he felt safe to do what he did. He brought it to his face and inhaled your comforting scent, thinking that if it comforted him to sleep, surely it would help him in that moment. And it did. Of course, it did.

He found himself feeling calmer. Hell, he was suddenly in a good mood. All because of your scent on his scarf. He placed it back on his platform and returned to work afterwards, feeling much calmer about whatever had been frustrating him in the moment. A while later that same day, you came into the lab to work on the weekly report and noticed the scarf on his platform, close to Miguel. Apparently you noticed it the next day, and the day after that. It was on the fourth day after bringing it back that you found Miguel moving it out of sight since he knew you were going to join him for lunch. It was the fact that he still kept it around for so many days, close to him, that made you wonder. And that was how you guessed that, maybe, he was keeping it around the lab for comfort.

Two days after that, Miguel noticed that the scarf had lost your scent but in you came that day from patrolling, rubbing your arms and claiming you were very cold. You were wearing your suit and a light jacket that you brought in that day. So, there was Miguel, looking for one of his old jackets in one of the supply closets in his lab and handing it to you, but you were still cold, or so you said.

Miguel chuckles softly now as he puts the scarf back in the drawer, locking it again. He shakes his head gently, thinking about how attentive and cunning you are, and how well you know him. You noticed the scarf and figured out what he was doing, and then planned the perfect moment because after he gave you one of his jackets, you claimed to still be cold.

“I guess today I’m just more sensitive to the cold,” you said as you opened a laptop, wearing his jacket - a sight that made Miguel pause for a few seconds - before you continued. “I’m so cold I could throw on some gloves and a scarf even though we’re inside,” you joked, giving him a short, knowing glance before you turned your attention back to the laptop.

Miguel then blinked and looked at his scarf, the sight of you wearing his jacket was for some reason causing something like a short circuit in his brain, before he picked it up and took it to you. He placed it around your neck, letting you fix it to your liking.

“I’ll see what the thermostat is at. Sometimes members mess with it,” Miguel offered as he stepped back, looking at you now wearing his scarf, too.

“I’ve seen some members mess with it before, but I think I’m okay now,” you said, fixing the scarf and pulling it a little closer to you, under the jacket with a soft smile. “Thank you, I hope you don’t mind me wearing it for a little bit…”

Miguel shook his head. “I don’t mind at all. You can wear it however long you need to,” he said, returning the soft smile before he walked back to his platform again.

“Thank you. It’s so warm and cozy. So comforting.”

That made Miguel turn to look at you. You were typing on the laptop already but he could see your little knowing smile, as if sensing that he had turned to look at you because of your choice of word. And that’s how Miguel knew you knew about the scarf.

As Miguel steps back on his platform now, more focused, he recalls that just yesterday you wore it again while you were organizing the lab. Instead of making you come up with a little plan like you did the first time, Miguel took it upon himself this time. He grabbed the scarf and once he approached you, he placed it around your neck, catching you by surprise.

“Just in case you’re cold,” he said softly before proceeding to walk to the door. “I’ll be right back. Want a coffee?” he asked, turning to look at you with a little smirk.

You nodded as you held one of the many pieces of technology Miguel uses with a glimmer in your eyes, staring at him and wondering. “Yes… I’d like one, please.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m alright with just the coffee, thank you.”

“Always,” Miguel replied before he exited only to hear you chuckle right before he walked out, a sound that made him smiled. Now you know that he knows you know about the scarf.

“What are you smiling about?”

Miguel’s smile turns into a soft scowl towards Lyla.

“I wasn’t smiling.”

“Right…”

“How did the last mission go?” Miguel responds instead, which makes Lyla snort.

“We’re taking the denial route, okay… It went well. Anomaly captured, no problems. By the way, Y/N is asking if she can come in.”

“Why did you take so long to tell me? Yes, tell her to come in! I already told her she doesn’t need to do that,” Miguel says with a soft frown as Lyla disappears. Miguel silently wonders if you will ever not ask. He’s not sure at this point.

He reads some information from his screen, more focused than earlier and this time he manages to read past a paragraph of data before he hears your footsteps. He turns around to face you, to give you his full attention.

“Hey, almost done?” you ask as you approach the platform.

“I have a few things left but I’ll be done in an hour or so. You heading out?” he asks, resting a hand on his platform, peering down at you since his platform is about three feet above the ground.

You nod with a little smile. “Yeah, I’m going to my universe to patrol for a little while before I come back.”

Miguel nods. “Alright, just be careful. Let me know if you need something, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry. If you need me to come back and help somehow, just let me know.”

Miguel nods again, grinning softly. “I will, thank you, but I should have it covered.” At least now that he’s no longer struggling to concentrate, he silently thinks. “I’ll see you at the penthouse in a bit for dinner,” he adds.

“Alrighty! I’m heading out now then,” you reply with a smile before you turn to leave.

“Careful!” Miguel calls out, watching you leave.

“I will, see you at home!” you say softly, walking into a pocket of darkness and disappearing from Miguel’s sight.

He stares into the darkness, your words sinking in. He finally turns to face his screen, a small smile adorning his face again.

“See you at home,” he says to himself before he focuses on the task at hand once again, determined to finish his tasks within an hour, so he can head home soon.

🌕

When Miguel steps into the penthouse, he walks slowly. His red eyes scan the space and he admires how different it feels. The penthouse is the same as always in its appearance. Nothing is out of place, there is no new furniture, or even a new photo frame. And yet…

The warm light from lamps in the living room are a welcoming sight to Miguel. The fireplace is on, instantly warming his face from the cold since he was just outside for a quick patrol in Nueva York. Then, there’s his record player, already playing music and filling the penthouse with a comforting sound. That’s not the only sound his ears register though. He stays still and listens to the sounds coming from the kitchen. He grins and walks further in, entering the space you’re in. You’re by the stove, stirring something and there’s Lyla, hovering next to you. Miguel raises an eyebrow at this. As soon as he turned off his screens, she dipped with a quick “bye” before he could even say something. Apparently she was more than ready to keep you company here at the penthouse.

“And what are you going to add next?” Lyla asks hovering, peering down at the stove.

“The spices,” you reply.

“Right, right - Oh, Miguel. You finally join us,” Lyla says noticing him.

You turn around and find him by the entrance of the kitchen. He gives you a nod and a little smile.

“Just got here. I did a quick patrol… It smells amazing,” he says nodding to the stove.

“I barely just got started since I showered after I came back. I got caught up at my universe with some petty thieves, nothing serious but it definitely took some time. Food should be ready in half an hour or so though,” you reply with a smile.

Miguel nods, thinking about a shower for himself. He feels grimy after venturing out into Nueva York to patrol. “May I help you with something?” he offers.

“Thank you, but it’s alright. I got it! If you want to do something else in the meantime you can. I’ll let you know when it’s ready,” you respond.

Miguel nods again, knowing that tonight you don’t want any help. The two of you have settled into a routine after only a few weeks, and the cooking is definitely one of those things you both figured out quickly. It’s something that you insisted wanting to help with as a way to “contribute.” Miguel had to respect that only to ease your mind, though he would’ve had no problem with you not “contributing” as you called it. Either way, you both figured out the cooking. On some nights, Miguel cooks while on other nights you do it. And then, there’s the other nights when you cook together, which you both seem to really enjoy, but tonight, it seems that you prefer to do it alone, which Miguel respects.

“You sure?” he still asks, raising an eyebrow. He still offers, just in case you need help.

“I’m sure,” you reply, smiling.

“Alright then. I’m going upstairs to take a quick shower, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, go ahead.”

He gives you a small grin before he turns and heads upstairs to take a shower, leaving you with Lyla, who is still hovering next to you. She continues to ask you questions as you make dinner, which you find amusing and don’t mind at all. Miguel comes back a short while later, showered and clad in lounging clothes, a sight you’ve become familiar with as has he with you because of the current living arrangement.

You serve dinner for the two of you and like every night since you’ve stayed, you have dinner together and talk about the day. And it feels normal and right.

You thought it would take a few days to get used to living here, to sharing a space with someone after so long but it didn’t.

Even Miguel believed the same thing. He thought it’d take a minute to get used to the little changes like coming to the penthouse and finding the lamps on at the living room. Or to get used to the sight of you moving around the kitchen with ease, or his ears being greeted by music along with mundane, cozy sounds from someone else living with him. To the scent of food already cooking, to the warmth, but it didn’t take long for either of you to get used to any part of living together. If anything, it feels like you were only away for a while but you’re back now, picking up right where you left off.

It’s a strange sensation, but an even more comforting one. You quickly settled into routines, and the details you were so worried about like the groceries and cooking, worked themselves out.

After dinner, the two of you clean the kitchen together. That’s something that you do together every night, no matter who cooks. Your conversations usually continue and move to the living room, where you spend the rest of the evening together, though sometimes you part ways to give each other space.

Tonight, the two of you remain in the living room. The TV is on and some telenovela is airing. You’re each sitting on a couch. Miguel is working from a tablet, looking at a different design for the gizmos. You’re on your tablet, too, but lazily drawing. You look up at the TV as a scene unfolds, the audio catching your attention.

“Paloma!” the male protagonist cries out in an agave field, angrily and heartbroken it seems. Miguel looks up, too, and watches.

The man talks about his love starting and ending on the land before he curses the woman and her love.

Miguel turns to look at you, noticing that the telenovela has caught your attention. He grins softly and waits until it cuts to the commercials.

“This is a new version. There’s about two or three other versions that have been filmed over the years,” Miguel says, sharing that little piece of information.

You turn to him and smile softly. “You watched any of them?”

“One. It came out several years ago when I was about… thirteen or so. This one has nothing on that one,” he says, thinking. He looks down at his screen. “They don’t make them like they used to, I can tell you that.”

You chuckle softly. “So you used to watch telenovelas?”

Miguel looks up at you again and nods after a few seconds. “Yes, it was kind of impossible not to. My mom always watched them in the evening while Gabriel and I worked on homework on the dining room table. She would keep an eye on us from the couch but Gabriel and I sometimes got distracted with the super dramatic scenes,” Miguel says with a little smile. “And of course, we found the kissing scenes gross, especially Gabriel.”

You laugh softly, imagining both Gabriel and Miguel as little kids and finding those scenes gross. You can’t help but think about how different Miguel’s life would be if only Gabriel was still here, and how you wish you could’ve met him. You can only imagine the banter between the two brothers based on what Miguel has shared so far.

Miguel looks at the TV for a few seconds before he returns his gaze back to you. “If you’d like to, I could show it to you. That other version. I can probably find it on one of the streaming platforms since it’s been some years since it came out.”

You hum in response and nod. “Well, you’re saying this is nothing compared to that one, so you’ve piqued my interest now.”

Miguel chuckles softly and nods. “Very well then, let me look for it. Even the intro song of this new one is nothing to the other version’s.”

You grin softly, amused at how Miguel is basically saying that the current version sucks.

Miguel quickly finds it on one of his universe’s streaming platforms. “Alright, we can probably watch an episode or two before we head to sleep,” he says since the two of you head to your respective bedrooms at around 10pm each night.

You sit excitedly as Miguel clicks on the first episode. After you watch the intro song, you nod in approval.

“What do you think?” Miguel says with a little grin.

“I trust your telenovela expertise,” you reply and that makes him laugh softly before the two of you begin to watch the first episode.

You subtly turn to look at Miguel as the episode starts. His attention is definitely on the screen and what’s playing out. You wonder if he’s still reminiscing on the years he used to watch it with Gabriel from his childhood dining table before you tell yourself to pay attention. At one point, the male protagonist makes his appearance and you can’t help but notice that he’s very attractive, even sliding on some round glasses that makes your eyes widen. You understand why the female protagonist reacts the way she does when she first sees him.

“Look at that man that just got down. He’s so… Handsome. Ave María Purísima, never in my life have I seen a man so… beautiful,” the female protagonist says as she sees him, watching the man in awe. You can’t help but nod. He is very handsome. [Hail Mary Most Pure, conceived without sin.]

“That’s Mr. Rodrigo. He and his siblings were sent away to study very far away since they were little,” the female protagonist’s mother says while she continues to gaze the handsome man.

The episode continues on before you have a small realization. Your eyes widen a little before you turn to look at Miguel subtly, noticing that the male protagonist looks a little like Miguel. You turn back to the screen, hiding your little grin and paying attention to the telenovela again.

Miguel turns every once in a while to look at you, subtly smiling as he sees you’re hooked. He swears he even saw you become a little flustered with Rodrigo.

“The foreshadowing,” you say quietly, chuckling and grinning as the two protagonists kneel side by side at the front of the church during Rodrigo’s grandfather’s funeral service, meeting unofficially for the first time, their paths crossing.

“I’m not giving any spoilers,” Miguel replies with a teasing tone.

You turn to him, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “I know they’re going to get together by the end of this.”

“I guess you’ll have to keep watching to find out.”

You shake your head in disbelief at him before turning your attention back to the screen, making a little noise when Rodrigo and Gaviota make eye contact at the altar, and the way Rodrigo smiles at her.

“I’m pretty certain they’re going to be together by the end.”

“Is that so?”

“I mean… That smile says it all.”

“Has someone, other than Gaviota, taken a liking to Rodrigo?”

“Maybe,” you reply, pulling your blanket higher up your body, and turning your face away from Miguel so he doesn’t see your reactions anymore because the telenovela has you on the verge of giggling and kicking your feet.

Miguel grins, pretty sure you’ve gained a little crush on the male protagonist.

The two of you continue to watch the telenovela and manage to watch two episodes before 10pm. Once the second episode finishes, the two of you call it a night. Miguel turns off the TV and you fold your blanket, ready to take it upstairs with you. It’s the one that you always have on your couch back at your universe for when you chill on your couch. You brought it along a day after the fire and bring it downstairs with you when you hang out in Miguel’s living room, but you never leave it on the couch, something Miguel has noticed. He’s certain that you take it upstairs because you’re still thinking about not “disrupting” his life or space with your stay. After picking up his tablet and putting it on the coffee table, Miguel turns to you as you tuck the blanket under your arm to grab your own tablet.

“You know you can leave it here, right?”

“Hm?” you respond, startled.

“Your blanket. You can leave it here, on the couch. If you’d like to, of course. I know that’s the one you always have on your own couch,” Miguel says softly as the fireplace and some of the lamps turn off thanks to Lyla, who’s nowhere in sight.

“Oh, right… I just don’t want to, you know,” you respond, nodding to his couch. “You have no clutter so I don’t want to make your living room look… messy.”

Miguel snorts softly, amused with your statement and the fact that he’s right. You’re trying to make your stay in the penthouse as subtle as possible. He’s noticed you don’t leave your jackets or coats around. Even small things like hair accessories and jewelry are not left behind. He often comes home and finds something of the sorts on the counter from you taking it off to cook or unwind on the kitchen counter, only to see it gone not even an hour later, all traces of your stay in his home gone.

It doesn’t bother Miguel to see your personal items throughout the space in the slightest. If anything, the sight of someone else’s items laying around comforts him. It’s nice to see that there’s someone else occupying the space with him. And yet, you think it’s going to “clutter” his space. Miguel shakes his head, crossing his arms over his broad chest with a small grin. “A blanket isn’t going to make the living room messy. You can leave it on the couch. I already told you, many times by the way,” Miguel says, raising an eyebrow. “My home is your home. And if anything, your blanket adds personality to my very basic decorations. So please, if you want to, just leave the blanket here. You don’t have to remove your personal belongings from the shared spaces like it’s going to upset me. It doesn’t.” Miguel pauses and frowns softly. “If anything, it’s upsetting that you think it would…” His frown fades but as he continues, his tone is firm yet gentle. “You’re welcomed here, Y/N. Always.”

You smile warmly at him and nod slowly. You’ve definitely been trying to make your stay subtle and avoid letting even small personal belongings take over Miguel’s space.

“Thank you… I know you mean it but I still don’t want to make it feel like it’s my…” you trail off because you’re about to say “home.”

“And I’m telling you it is, so…” Miguel says and trails off, his arms dropping to his sides.

You nod again and sigh softly, holding his gaze. You can feel the fabric under your arm, still tucked. You pull it and look at it for about five seconds before you lay it over the couch’s armrest you always sit on. The color of your blanket is a nice contrast to Miguel’s grey couch. You turn back to Miguel, finding a small smile on his face because you finally placed the blanket down.

You grin at him. “Alright, the blanket can stay there.”

Miguel chuckles softly and nods. “Good. It’s about time you stop carrying the poor thing back and forth, you know? Give it a home.”

“It’ll stay here,” you reply softly, and Miguel smiles gently. You continue to grin and nod towards the stairs. “You heading to sleep?”

“Yes. Long day tomorrow,” Miguel says.

“But it’s Friday. It’s the best day of the week,” you reply.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Miguel chuckles softly as the two of you start up the stairs, the remaining of the lights turning off now that you’re both going to sleep.

“I believe you,” he says as you step aside, stopping in front of the bathroom door. Miguel takes a few more steps before turning to face you. “Good night.”

“Good night. See you in the morning,” you state softly, smiling at him before you push the door open and slip inside the bathroom to do your night routine.

Miguel stands there for a few seconds, his ears registering the sound of running water from inside the bathroom before he walks the remaining of the way to his own bedroom. As he makes the short walk to his own bathroom, he thinks about the little routines the two of you have created in such a short amount of time, like saying good night to each other. It started the first night you spent at the penthouse and it was you who said it first. Now, no matter if you spend the entire evening together or in separate areas of the space, you wish each other a good night. Miguel sighs softly as he reaches for his toothbrush, realizing that your temporary stay has spoiled him in a way. He’s grown used to these routines too quickly, too happily.

He rolls his shoulders as he brushes his teeth, telling himself it’s okay that he’s grown used to it. It’s been a while since he’s shared a space with someone, and the fact that it’s with you, with someone he trusts and cares about, only makes him appreciate the company even more. He tells himself that everything will be alright, even when your apartment is ready to go and you can return.

He nods to himself, reassuring the man in the mirror only for a few seconds before he looks away. He turns on the water and continues his routine, ready for bed.

You splash water on your face to wash off your cleanser before you continue on with your night routine. You return to your bedroom and get on the bed, snuggling into the covers instantly. You stare at the ceiling as you wait for the sleepiness to come.

You’ve settled into Miguel’s penthouse without any trouble. All your clothes have been washed, to get rid of the smoke smell, and now occupy the closet. Pictures of your friends, parents, and Peter occupy the hanging shelves. All of Peter's belongings can be found on the bookcase. The dresser has become the home of your jewelry and other personal items. The once empty bedroom that belonged to Gabriel has become yours in a short amount of time.

Your routines have merged in the most perfect, subtle way. So seamlessly. You each have a specific day to do your laundry. You agreed on the cooking and the groceries. You help with the cleaning, something that Miguel wasn’t too keen about, but you convinced him after you told him that you wished to as it would give you a sense of normalcy since it’s something you’re used to doing at your own place anyway. You have breakfast and dinner together at the penthouse, and spend most of the evenings together in the living room.

Everything about this unexpected change has fallen into place seamlessly.

You sigh softly and roll onto your side, closing your eyes. You’ve grown used to this change so fast, maybe too fast. You cannot deny that it has been great - amazing, really - sharing a space with someone. Up until Peter’s death, you had never lived by yourself. You spent your entire childhood, adolescence, and early adult years living with your parents until you graduated from college. Then, you moved in with Peter, and the thought of living alone never crossed your mind since you were with him. You knew that from that point onward, Peter and you were going to live together for the rest of your lives. Except, life had different plans. Peter passed away and you were suddenly living alone for the first time ever. It was another feeling you had to grow used to.

You eventually had to accept it. You had no other choice. You had to accept that your once shared apartment, was suddenly just your own. Now, living with Miguel has brought up those memories, those feelings of what it's like to share a space with someone. You’ve realized, that you miss it and that you're enjoying this a little too much.

Miguel doesn’t make it any easier, either. He’s the perfect roommate and there’s also the little fact that you only recently realized. It allowed you to understand even more why you’re comfortable with this temporary arrangement, why you’re enjoying sharing a space with Miguel.

You roll to your other side. You can feel yourself succumbing to sleep as you think of your recent realization. You think about Peter, of who he was to you. He was more than your romantic partner, more than your boyfriend. He started off as something else before he turned into your boyfriend, and he continued to be it until his last day. He always will. At least, one of them.

The thing was that you never thought you’d find someone like that again, but you did. You realize now that you have.

You open your eyes briefly, your sleepy gaze taking in your current bedroom in Miguel’s home.

Across the multiverse.

-*-

You wake up. Your eyes are met with the sight of your pillow before you slowly look around the bedroom. You blink softly, searching for something. You don’t know what you’re looking for as you’re only met by Nueva York’s noises.

You sit up slowly and glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s 2:43am and the penthouse is silent, or seems so, at least. You lay down again and readjust the covers, closing your eyes as an attempt to go back to sleep. You shift in bed, trying to get comfortable once more, but there’s still something that tugs at you.

Your spidey senses go off, causing you to open your eyes and sit up again. In a matter of seconds, you’re reaching for your suit to change. You hastily begin to tug your sweatshirt off but stop midway when you hear something*.* It fills the silence in Miguel’s penthouse, causing you to freeze.

“Gabriella… Gabi… No, Gabi…”

Your heart sinks as Miguel’s voice reaches your ears. You fix your top as you walk towards the bedroom door, and before you know it, you step out into the hallway and walk the short distance between the bedrooms. You stop in front of Miguel’s room. His door is ajar, allowing his voice to spill out into the hallway and carry to your room.

You stand in front of the door, your hand in midair, hesitating. It’s clear Miguel is having a nightmare, based on the tone of his voice, which only makes your heart ache more. You know that after losing Gabriella, Miguel has been having them. It’s the reason why he avoided sleep and worked through the nights for so long.

“Gabi! Perdóname - Hija - Perdóname - Gabriella, por favor - Perdóname, hija,” Miguel says in his sleep, his tone filled with sorrow and guilt. “Please, I’m so sorry.” ["Gabi! Forgive me - Daughter - Forgive me - Gabriella, please - Forgive me, daughter"]

Hearing Miguel’s tone, so painful and emotionally distressing, is all it takes. You push the door open and walk towards his bed, putting aside any worries about Miguel becoming upset or uncomfortable with your presence during such a vulnerable moment. You silently decide you can deal with that. You can handle the consequences of an upset or uncomfortable Miguel, but what you cannot handle nor bear any longer, is listening to him like this. You cannot stand by and hear him like this one more second, not when your heart feels like it’s being ripped apart for him.

You reach his side of the bed in no time. Miguel moves his head side to side in his sleep, his eyebrows knitted as if searching for something. Someone. He’s kicked off his covers, which are now bunched at the end of the bed.

“Gabi,” he calls out again. “Lo siento mucho, mija.” [I'm so sorry, my daughter.]

You gulp softly before you speak. “Miguel… Miguel, it’s me. I’m here,” you say gently yet firmly. “I’m here.”

You look down at his hand closest to you. It’s in a fist as is his other hand. You softly tap it, your fingertip gingerly touching it out of respect.

“I’m here, Miguel,” you say as you tap his hand again with your one finger.

You keep talking to him, hoping that you don’t startle him too much, though you cannot wait for him to wake up from his bad dream. You get closer to his bed, your legs pressing against his mattress.

“Miguel,” you keep murmuring, tapping his fist gently. You end up kneeling by his bed as you continue to slightly touch his hand, calling his name to wake him up, to pull him away from his dream so he’s not hurting. At least not in his nightmares as well.

Miguel mutters Gabriella’s name a few more times, and after a few seconds, Miguel’s eyes open. They search frantically around the bedroom before they find you, knelt before his bed, your face marked with concern, understanding, and tenderness.

“Y/N,” Miguel whispers, sleepily but somewhat alerted. Relieved.

“Hey, you’re awake now,” you whisper softly, retrieving your finger from his fist and placing your hand on his bed, next to him. “I’m - sorry. I heard you and …” you trail off, wishing you could tell him it was just a dream - just a nightmare - but you know that those words are not the truth for Miguel. His nightmares are not warnings nor simply bad dreams that leave a bad taste in his mouth upon wakening, but rather reminders that the events in his dreams have already happened. They are not nightmares that provoke fear in his life. It’s the reality of the turn of events **that incite his nightmares.

For Miguel, there’s no waking up and walking to the next bedroom to find his sweet child in bed, sleeping peacefully and unaware of his nightmares. There’s no relief and realization that it was just a really bad nightmare. No, for Miguel there is only one truth and it brings no comfort. There’s no child in the next bedroom. There never was. Not in this home, not in this universe. And her universe, much like her, is gone.

You watch Miguel with a heavy heart. There’s no comforting statement that you can offer him.

Miguel sits up slowly, his frame towering over you now. He sighs deeply as he comes to his senses, slowly realizing that you’ve witnessed one of his nightmares. He feels shame as he sits on his bed with you kneeling at his side. His cheeks are warm from the sleep but they suddenly feel hot as heavy, plunging waves of shame and discomfort crash on him. He dares take a glance at you again and when his crimson eyes find you, he detects no judgment nor pity. Instead, he finds genuine concern, understanding, love, and so much more, but not pity.

Never pity from you.

There’s a soft and tender look in your eyes that makes those waves of shame and discomfort ebb. And as those feelings fade, even in his state of mind, Miguel understands clearly why he felt like that just seconds ago. This is the first time anyone has ever seen him have a nightmare, making it easy for Miguel to feel all sorts of negative emotions. He quickly reminds himself that there’s no reason to feel like that with you. You would never look at him with pity or judgment, nor make him feel bad about having nightmares. He turns fully to face you now, more relaxed, or at least, as much as he can after a nightmare.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he says quietly in a deeper voice due to his slumber. “I didn’t mean to. I should’ve fully closed the door.”

You shake your head gently and offer a comforting smile, eyebrows knitted in understanding. “Don’t apologize. You can’t control them,” you whisper. “And - I have a feeling I would’ve known regardless of your door being fully closed or not.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow at this, wondering what you mean but you decide you’ll tell him later, when he’s more relaxed. You can tell he’s a little off from his nightmare, rightfully so, and the last thing you want to do is add on to the already vulnerable moment. You pat his mattress softly, giving him a warm and gentle smile to hopefully ease his emotions, even though internally, you’re aching to comfort Miguel physically. To embrace and hold him close to you when you know that no words can alleviate his pain and loss, nor the truth. You retrieve your hand from his mattress, for the first time feeling truly afraid that you might disrespect his boundary regarding physical touch because of your instincts.

“How about I make you a warm drink? Would you like that?” you ask quietly, still kneeling by his side.

Miguel shakes his head. “Thank you, but you don’t have to do that. It’s really late,” he says, turning to his nightstand to look at the clock, realizing what time it is. He instantly feels guilty for disrupting your sleep. He turns to face you before adding, “You should try and get some rest…”

You stand up, meeting his gaze. “Are you going back to sleep?” you ask him.

His gaze moves from you to his covers, which gives you a moment to glance around his bed. His covers have been kicked to the edge of the bed and then to his side, even in the darkness, you spot the sweatshirt that you gave him a few days ago on Sunday. Your eyes focus on it especially when you notice there’s a pillow stuffed in it, filling it up and leaving the sleeves laying flat on the bed. It’s so close to him that it makes you realize Miguel really does keep it nearby when he sleeps. The sight of the sweatshirt reminds you of something else.

Your eyes flicker to his nightstand where you find his gizmo. You were so concerned with Miguel and waking him up from his nightmare that you failed to hear your own breathing coming from it. You blink softly in surprise. You knew of it, of course. He has access to it because you allowed Lyla to record you. And of course, you know about the sweatshirt. You shouldn’t be surprised and yet, actually seeing Miguel use both things makes it so much more truer. Miguel truly does find your scent and the sound of your sleeping breathing comforting and necessary to sleep.

Your eyes flicker back to the sweatshirt and how it’s stuffed with a pillow. It makes you silently wonder if Miguel ever holds it, or rather embraces it, while he sleeps, as if he was hugging someone. As if he was hugging you.

You look away, heat rushing to your cheeks instantly at the mere thought of this possibility. The idea alone fills you with tenderness and hope, especially after his statement the day of the fire, when in your exhaustion, you revealed to Miguel for the first time that you wished to hug him. His words have been on your mind since then, how he said it was an honor that you wanted to embrace him, and that he was trying to work on physical touch. His words gave you hope that day and seeing the sweatshirt like this now, makes you even more hopeful that Miguel really is warming up to the idea of physical touch.

“I’m going to try,” Miguel answers at last, looking up at you again.

Relief washes over you as you realize that you did good in looking away from the sweatshirt when you did. You don’t want Miguel to realize that you’ve seen it and cause him to feel embarrassment about it.

“But he always stays up,” Lyla says, popping out of nowhere. You stare at her as she stares back at you. There’s a frown on her face, one of concern. “He’s never managed to go back to sleep after a nightmare.”

“Lyla,” Miguel says in a warning voice.

You nod towards Lyla, communicating a silent thank you for providing all the information you need. “I’m going to make you something warm to drink. I’ll bring it up to you, okay?” you say before starting to walk towards his bedroom door.

“Y/N,” Miguel says in a tone that tells you he’s about to argue that you don’t need to do anything, that you should head back to sleep and rest as if you could do such a thing when you know he’s somewhere in the penthouse, awake and alone after having a nightmare.

You could never just go back to sleep. You could never leave him alone, not when he has spent too many nights like that already. You refuse to let this night be the same when you’re here.

You turn to face him with an unwavering determination in your eyes. “I won’t… I can’t.” You pause, your face softening. “Please. Let me try, too.”

Miguel holds your gaze, still sitting 2on his bed. He stays quiet for a few seconds as your words sink in.

You give him a gentle smile and nod, taking his silence as understanding, as acceptance. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” Miguel replies quietly, softly, before you slip out of his bedroom and head downstairs.

Once in the kitchen, Lyla takes care of turning on the lights for you, keeping the lighting warm and gentle for your eyes to adjust. She silently follows you as you move around the kitchen, as if interested in what you’re doing, in how you’re going to sooth Miguel. You gather the few things you need before turning on the stove and setting the pot with water to boil. All the while, your heart stings for the man upstairs.

A floor above, Miguel sits on the bed. He sighs and rubs his forehead before he stands up and heads downstairs to meet you, to find you. He walks across the living room and towards the kitchen, finding you putting something in a medium-size pot. He takes a seat in his usual spot and leans on the counter, resting his elbows on it for support. He’s silently relieved the lighting is comfortable for the two of you considering you were both just sleeping and it’s the middle of the night.

He watches you gently, feeling both guilt and ternura. He silently wishes his nightmares could’ve ceased at least while you’re here to avoid disrupting your sleep, and more importantly, to avoid worrying you since he saw concern on your face when he woke up. And yet, he also found understanding, tenderness, affection, and love on your face - in your eyes. And now here you are, making a warm drink to comfort him, not realizing that your presence alone is soothing to him as always. **This fills him with ternura.

You turn around and face Miguel, finding him sitting in his usual seat. Your eyes meet his and you offer a smile, slowly realizing for the first time that he’s shirtless. You cannot help but wonder if he’s cold, causing you to worry.

“I’m making canelita,” you tell him softly.

He nods, offering you the tiniest smile before he looks down at the counter for a few seconds. The sight of that small, weak smile breaks you. He’s hurting.

Under the soft, warm light, Miguel looks… like he could use a hug right now. You look away, knowing you can’t but the urge, like always, is there. You tell yourself to stop thinking about it, and instead, focus on trying to support and comfort Miguel as best as you can. You silently wonder what he usually does after a nightmare. Lyla said he usually can’t sleep, so does he lay in bed for a while, or does he go to HQ?

You don’t know, and you don’t ask. A part of you doesn’t want to know because any scenario will hurt all the same with Miguel being on his own after a nightmare. You shake those thoughts away and think of something.

“Why don’t we go to the living room?” you suggest quietly as you approach the counter, standing in front of Miguel.

He nods silently, so you make the first move by walking around the counter and meeting him. You gesture to the living room before you begin walking there, his steps right behind you. Once again, Lyla takes care of the lights by turning on only two lamps. She even starts the fireplace, creating a soft and cozy environment. You silently thank Lyla. She’s helping as best as she can. You gesture to Miguel to take a seat, and he obeys, moving stiffly. He moves around like he’s in a haze, as if he’s still in his nightmare.

Once he sits, you retrieve the blanket from earlier. The one he told you to give it a home. You had no idea Miguel and you would be here only a few hours later under this circumstance, or that you’d be relieved that he told you to leave it if you wanted to because now, you’re going to use it to cover him.

Miguel blinks and looks up as you unfold it. You offer a small and warm smile to comfort him as he sits, watching you step closer to cover him like you did several months ago when you were looking after him in the spring after his injuries. The blanket instantly provides a layer of warmth but it also provides your scent, which surrounds him now. He inhales silently, feeling your scent lull his very soul after the nightmare.

“Thank you,” Miguel whispers, meeting your gaze, knowing that in a small way, this is you offering physical comfort. It’s your way of giving him a hug.

You nod, still smiling. “Always…” You gulp silently, feeling a tightness in your throat form. “Let me check on the canelita. I’ll be right back.”

You retreat to the kitchen, unaware of Miguel’s lingering eyes on you as your figure disappears. A few minutes later, you return to the living room, holding two mugs. He begins to pull the blanket down to stand up and help you, but you quickly tell him not to. Your words are laced with such a firmness, yet a gentleness that leaves no room to argue for Miguel, so he remains sitting. He watches you approach before you carefully hand him a mug.

“Careful,” you tell him softly as he receives it, welcoming the warmth of the mug and the brief brushing of your fingers with his.

You cup your mug in both your hands now that you’ve given Miguel his, and think for a moment as your eyes scan the other couch. You always sit there when you’re here at Miguel’s penthouse, and that hasn’t changed since you started living with him. The two of you always take a seat on opposite couches but right now, as you glance at Miguel, you can’t find it in yourself to sit that far from him.

You take in his appearance. He’s shirtless and in sweatpants. His hair is messy from his slumber, and the curls behind his ears look more curled than usual. You briefly find his bed hair endearing before your gaze takes in his face. There’s a thoughtful and far away expression on it, one that makes you feel like he’s still thinking about the nightmare. He also looks tired, something that tugs at your heartstrings. You silently decide you wish to be closer to him, so you opt to sit on the rug near him, leaving a few feet of space between the two of you so he doesn’t feel like you’re invading his personal space.

Miguel notices this, of course, and his eyebrows immediately knit in concern and confusion as you retrieve your mug from the coffee table after you placed it down to sit down. He’s about to open his mouth to tell you to get up, to not sit on the ground because it might be too cold and you might get sick, but when you look up at him and offer a warm and kind smile, Miguel forgets what he was going to say.

All he can think about is your smile and the tenderness on your face.

As you stare at Miguel, you know you can’t relate to having nightmares after losing one of your loved ones. You thankfully never had any even when Peter died in your arms but just the thought of them makes you feel sorrow, and you can imagine what Miguel feels. It makes you want to be here for Miguel even more, even if you know that you can’t take away his heartache and loss. There’s no way anyone can ever do that for someone fully, no matter how hard one tries but what you do know is that you can be here for Miguel. You can be his companion, so that Miguel isn’t alone for the first time after having a nightmare.

“Thank you,” Miguel whispers again after a moment of silence, meeting your gaze.

“Always,” you reply in a whisper, slowly twirling your spoon to cool off the hot drink. You silently hope that Miguel finds comfort and solace in your company.

Miguel watches you gently as you twirl your spoon silently. You’re so close to him. If you wanted to, you could easily place your hand on his knee, and if he wished to, he could lay his hand on your shoulder. You’re within distance but far enough that you’re respecting his personal space as always.

Miguel brings the mug to his lips and takes a small drink, the warmth and sweetness of the canelita spreads a comforting feeling through his chest on this cold winter night. Your blanket is still halfway covering him because he pulled it down earlier, but it’s keeping him warm regardless. There’s also the fireplace. He turns to look at it, taking notice of the dancing flames that cast shadows all around the room, something he also finds comforting for some reason.

In fact, everything about this moment is comforting to Miguel. From the low lit lamps to the fireplace, to the warmth and coziness that comes from your blanket, to the sweet canelita, but most of all - you.

You are here. This living room could be empty, dark, and cold but with you nearby, Miguel would feel the same amount of comfort nonetheless.

He sighs softly, feeling the heaviness that always weights down on him after a nightmare, almost like it drowns him, begin to fade. He can breath easier and his body is more relaxed, no longer as stiff as earlier. He subtly moves your blanket, lifting it higher so your scent reaches him again, so it helps him come back fully.

You notice his subtle gesture and after a few seconds of consideration, you slip off your sweatshirt. You fold it in half and place it on his lap, silently offering it to him because you know that your scent comforts him. Your eyes flicker to his, in which you find his internal debate to decline it, so you stare back with a firm gaze - wordlessly telling him to accept it.

Miguel looks down at the sweatshirt after a few seconds. You look at your mug to give him privacy, a moment Miguel takes. He lets his fingers graze your sweatshirt for several seconds. He feels the softness of it, but also the gratifying and comforting warmth that hangs to the fabric from you wearing it just now. It’s your warmth. So homey and inviting, so comforting. So you. He lifts it up to his chest, close enough that your scent surrounds him even more. He keeps his hand on it, letting your warmth sink into his palm and bare chest, into his own warmth.

Your warmth makes his mind whirl with thoughts of physical touch yet again, something Miguel finds himself doing more lately. Your revelation on wishing to hug him only fueled his thoughts on it as he’s been thinking about it for months, since the holidays. It sort of just click in his mind over Thanksgiving dinner that you’re so much more open to touch than he is. You’re open to both receiving and offering it, and you do so with such ease, like Miguel once did not too long ago.

The sudden light bulb that went on in his head has remained on throughout the months. He’s thought about it too many times, and with you currently living here, Miguel has only opened up more to the idea. He has a feeling that his thoughts on it have grown because the two of you spend so much time together now, more than you did before. The funny thing is that you already spent a lot of time together before but now, living together… It’s different.

The remaining walls around Miguel seem to have been made out of glass because you’ve gracefully broken them down throughout the short amount of time that you’ve been here. There’s so much more banter between the two of you now, and as a result, he’s discovered a more playful side to you, one he really likes and enjoys. And because of that playful side to you, Miguel has found himself being more playful, too, which catches him by surprise because he hasn’t seen that side of himself for a while. He likes it, just like he likes the fact that he smiles and chuckles more around you.

And so, because of all these little changes, Miguel has thought more and more about physical touch and opening more to it. With you, at least.

He turns to look at you again. You’re still staring at your mug, giving him a moment of privacy. Opening up about physical touch hasn’t been the only thing he’s been thinking about. He’s thought of sharing more things with you about his past. With one of his nightmares taking place tonight, Miguel wonders if it would be alright to talk about her. About the beginning and the end. It’s something he’s never talked about. Sure, he showed spider members in the past what happened to Gabriella’s universe - to her and everyone else - but he never talked about it. There’s a big difference between showing and telling.

Few people know of the beginning, and even those individuals, such as Jess and Peter B., don’t know what was running through his mind then because they don’t know about his past. They don’t know about his childhood or how he came to be Spider-Man, or about the other parts of his life.

They don’t know, but you do. You know more than anyone else, and you’re the only one in the entire multiverse.

Miguel sighs and breaks the silence after several minutes.

“Do you mind, if I share something with you?” he asks, quietly.

“I don’t mind,” you reply, looking up at him again.

Miguel nods and looks down at his mug.

“My mother died shortly after moving into the building, right when our mother and son relationship was just beginning to - heal, I guess. As I’ve told you in the past, I still held a lot of resentment towards her for my childhood, but I think if time had allowed, we would’ve been in a good place over the years.” Miguel sighs and shrugs his shoulders gently, an eyebrow rising and falling in seconds. “We will never know now, I suppose, but her death, despite everything, still hurt… Her death hurt both Gabriel and I, probably him more than me but it hurt both of us and made us realize, we were all we had. Each other.” Miguel looks up and stares at the fireplace. “Gabriel… Gabrielito… He passed away shortly after. A year later. My brother - My best friend was suddenly gone. You know what I always thought?” he asks quietly, a slight tremor in his voice.

“I always thought it would be me, the one that… The one that passed away first because I was the older one. And how wrong I was, like I was about so many things,” Miguel says, his red eyes filled with sadness.

“I had no one. I lost everyone. I had no friends, not meaningful ones, anyway. I hid myself behind work and eventually, hiding my grief and loneliness led me and Lyla to the multiverse. We worked very hard to figure out a way to travel it and shortly after, she was successful in creating a goober, one that worked. And, that started it all.”

Miguel’s eyes flicker to you. It started his expeditions into the multiverse, into finding other Spider people. It led to you.

“There were few members at the time when - when I came across the universe. I discovered a version of myself that was happy. He had a daughter. A family. He was a single father,” Miguel shares. “I learned that his partner had died in childbirth, so it was just him and… Gabriella. Sometimes, I looked into their universe. It was so strange. To see a version of myself with a daughter, who was happy despite his own losses, despite the ups and downs of his life. I won’t lie, a part of me envied him. He was a normal individual with a normal job, and went home with his daughter. He wasn’t Spider-Man.

For the longest time, I hated what I had become. I blamed it on being Spider-Man, and then blamed myself because I used to think that I had made the choice to be Spider-Man.”

You nod slowly, his words sinking in. You understand the implication of his words.

“I regret this so much now but, back when I met Miles, I told him something. Something that I’ve come to realize, only showed how I viewed myself. All of us,” Miguel admits. “I thought being Spider-Man was a sacrifice. A job that we had signed up for, which obviously is not true, but I thought at the time because of how I had become Spider-Man, that I had made that decision willingly. And so, I felt that we had all made that decision, that sacrifice.”

“You didn’t…” you whisper, and Miguel nods, his face softening at your voice.

“I realized that after everything that happened with Miles. I just felt like - I had made that choice willingly, even though my intention was just to spare myself from becoming an addict,” he says softly. “I never intended to do anything else. It was… Luck. It was out of my hands, the same way it has been for so many spider members. But at the time, when I discovered Gabriella’s universe, I wholeheartedly believed it had been my choice. My sacrifice. A happy and simple life exchanged for the responsibilities and duties of Spider-Man and the fate of the multiverse. So, I only kept watching and I was glad, that at least one Miguel O’Hara was happy. It all changed one day though. Lyla suddenly informed me that - that the Miguel from that universe was dead, had been murdered. In an attempt to be a good man, he was shot and he didn’t make it… I saw how it went down, a recording of it because of Lyla,” Miguel says quietly. “And I was just - I just couldn’t believe that he was gone. I couldn’t believe that the misfortune was shared, no matter the universe.”

Miguel pauses, knowing he’s reached Gabriella’s part, and the part in which he buried a version of himself.

“After what felt like a minute or two of pure disbelief and shock, I remembered Gabriella. She had no one. There was no Gabriel, no Conchata, not even a George O’Hara in her life. They had all passed away when she was younger, so all she had was her father, and suddenly he was gone, too. I realized what that meant, and I didn’t want that for her,” Miguel says softly with a pained expression. “I didn’t want her to end up in an… orphanage, where God knows what she would’ve lived through. I couldn’t help but think about that and how she had such a beautiful life. She had a loving father. She had support. She didn’t know of pain, suffering, or loss. She was surrounded by love and tenderness, and I thought, she deserved to continue to have that. I thought, I could provide that for her. I could look after her, make sure she had a good childhood. That she could continued to know love the way she knew it so far thanks to her father. It all happened so fast. Those minutes felt like seconds and in that short time, I questioned, what was the harm? What was the harm in me replacing the Miguel in that universe?

I could spare Gabriella from knowing grief and loss at such a young age, from her life changing and losing everything she knew. And I also thought about my own life. Gabriel had been dead for three years already at that point. The only person I talked to on a daily basis was Lyla before the Spider Society, and even when it was all started, I still felt lonely. Empty.” Miguel confesses. “People tried to get close to me but I had given up. I was closed off. I pushed everyone away and succeeded time and time again. I felt it was better to just be alone. I felt that I was meant for that. That I wasn’t meant for anything else. That my whole life was to be dedicated to protecting the multiverse, but then this happened and I asked myself again, what was the harm? And before I knew it, I was there. I don’t… I will spare you most of the details of everything that happened from that point to meeting Gabriella.” Miguel looks at you, a deep frown on his face.

“But I do want you to know that I… I treated him with respect. I gave him a proper burial.” Miguel whispers. “Where he wouldn’t be disturbed and where I hoped he would find peace. It was a beautiful place, surrounded by nature. I had learned a few things about him and Gabriella, and this Miguel loved nature, so I thought it was only appropriate. I said a few words for him as he was religious, and I swore to him that I would love and look after Gabriella as if she was mine.”

Miguel looks down at the mug. His other hand is still clutching your sweatshirt.

“After that… I headed to their home and that was the beginning of one of the best times in my life, not knowing it would lead to one of the worst, too,” Miguel whispers, closing his eyes as he feels all his emotions all at once. He takes a minute to recover, to placate the knot in his throat. “It was wonderful, beautiful, and scary sometimes because I didn’t know everything about being a parent and I didn’t have the best examples growing up, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel like I had always been meant to be that… A father. And sometimes I wondered how because I had grown up with such horrible parental figures… Horrible father figures,” Miguel says opening his eyes again.

“But there, with Gabriella, it was like I was meant to be a dad all along. It was like a dream… A dream that I hadn’t even realized I had all along. And suddenly, I was there. I was with her, and she called me daddy and held my hand, and told me about school and soccer. I was suddenly learning how to do her hair and instead of being at HQ, I was on her bedroom floor play pretending I was some knight saving her favorite doll from dragons.” Miguel’s eyes are teary as he shares this. A soft smile tugs at his mouth.

“My biggest worry went from the gizmos acting up to a scraped knee during a soccer match. I woke up early not to work but to make breakfast and prepare her school lunch. My weekends were occupied with soccer matches and taking her on little adventures to book shops and museums, to the park where she ran on soft and green grass, and yelled at me to watch how fast she ran. My evenings were no longer spent in the lab but rather cooking for the two of us, while she did her homework on the dining table, like Gabriel and I once did as children. We’d eat dinner and she’d tell me more about her day, about the things she learned in school. And so much more… So much more, Y/N…. She changed my life.”

Miguel pauses and swallows deeply. “She changed me. She made me a better person.” He sighs and finally takes a sip of canelita, already lukewarm. “Everything was great. It was the best my life had been in years since Gabriel passed away. And I thought, this is perfect. The perfect life. Just my little Gabriella and I, but soon, I met my wife, Adriana, and that changed things.” Miguel looks up at you. “I fell for her fast. Too fast. I have regrets about the way I handle the relationship. I wish I had been better because she deserved better than me,” Miguel says, looking away.

You can sense Miguel doesn’t really want to talk about this specifically, about his wife.

“You don’t have to… talk about her,” you tell him gently.

Miguel shakes his head gently. “I ought to… I want to. And, she deserves to be talked about as well. She was part of my life for that short period of time. It’s just hard because over time, since everything happened, I’ve slowly come to the realization that I regret how fast everything went.” Miguel pauses again. He can’t help but wonder what you will think of him. You’ve always been so kind and understanding with him but this might change your perspective of him. Maybe you’ll think he was selfish, greedy even, to want to have it all. “We met and only two months later, we were married. It all happened so fast and suddenly, we became a family. We were happy for as long as it lasted. A month and a half. That was how long I was married for before… everything happened. I regret it only because I believe she deserved better. I felt that we rushed into things so fast. She had no family, so sometimes I think we just wanted a family, so much that we rushed into marriage. Even though she didn’t know the real me. All of me, at least.”

You nod again, thinking about his wife and the fact that she had no family either.

“She didn’t know that I was from another universe, or that I was Spider-Man. I wanted to tell her but I never had the courage nor the time since everything just happened in the blink of an eye. When Gabriella was in school, we were both at work. She went to her job, while I came back here to Nueva York. She never knew, of course. Then, in the evenings when the three of us were at home, our time was dedicated to Gabriella entirely. She was the center of our worlds. I think, Gabriella was what brought us together the most. Without Gabriella, I think, we would’ve never been together, even if I had been from that universe,” Miguel admits.

“We spent all our time with Gabriella, and we were happy about it. It was as if… That was the only reason we were together, to be parents. Since we spent all our time with Gabriella, that hardly left any time for us as a marriage. By the time we had some moments for ourselves at night, when Gabriella was tucked in for bedtime, we’d be tired from the day’s activities. So, it was never a good time to talk to her about being Spider-Man, or that I was from another universe. We didn’t even make time for ourselves. We never…” Miguel looks down at his mug, embarrassed. “We were never intimate. Just a peck here and there. And I’ve come to realized, we loved the idea of a marriage because of the companionship and Gabriella, because of being a family. I had feelings for her, and I know she did, too. We loved each other but not in a romantic sense. She told me...” Miguel trails off, remembering that dream, or experience, he still doesn’t know what to call it, from when he died for a few minutes almost a year ago.

Miguel sighs, and maybe it’s due to exhaustion, or maybe he just wants everything to be out of his chest once and for all because he tells you all about it. He tells you how he saw Gabriella, Gabriel, his wife, and the other Miguel. He tells you how he apologized to everyone and what they said to him. His eyes flicker to you as he tells you that his family kept telling him to come back because you were calling him.

You gulp softly and nod at this, your eyes growing teary as you remember that early morning when you thought Miguel was really gone.

“Gabriella and Gabriel kept telling me to come back. That you were calling me,” Miguel says quietly.

“I was…” you whisper. “I kept calling your name and I… prayed to your loved ones that they’d send you back.”

Miguel smiles weakly at you. “Seems like they heard your prayers.”

You chuckle softly and wipe at your eyes, before inhaling sharply. “So, you saw them.”

“Yes, including my wife, and she said… we both made the decision, that I hadn’t rushed her into anything she didn’t want to. That perhaps, we had both sensed it would come to an end all too quickly, and that’s why we rushed into it. Yet… I still feel guilty. I feel like I was selfish, that I wanted more, and in wanting more, I dragged her along with me.”

You shake your head softly. “I wasn’t there but… I have no doubt that she was a great woman and very smart. You believing that you ‘dragged’ her into marriage takes away from her character, Miguel. She married you because she wanted to. Even if the two of you didn’t have the opportunity to have your feelings grow deeper, that doesn’t mean there wasn’t love and respect. And you know,” you pause and look at your mug for a few seconds before meeting his gaze again. “I don’t know what you think about your dream - about your experience. Maybe you don’t believe that you actually saw them, but… I think it was real, and it was an opportunity for all of you to say what you wanted, needed, to say. And to me, it sounds like your wife didn’t regret it, nor did she blame you for anything. She was happy, as was Gabriella,” you say softly.

Miguel nods slightly. “They were happy but look where that ended.”

You frown and move slightly closer to him. “We don’t know the real cause,” you remind him gently, as it’s the truth. It has been two years since Miles “threatened” the fate of the multiverse by trying to save Mr. Morales, and the entire situation thankfully ended with him safe and sound. Miles’s universe didn’t collapsed and the fate of the multiverse wasn’t truly jeopardized. It weakened Miguel’s canon theory, but it’s something the society still keeps in mind as neither Miguel nor Lyla have figured out what exactly is the cause for some universes collapsing and others not.

“Right,” Miguel says and sighs, rubbing his forehead. “We don’t know for sure but there’s still a chance that it was my fault, me being there when I wasn’t supposed to.”

You tilt your head to the side slightly. “That would mean your universe would be threatened, too.”

Miguel looks at you, with a frown.

“All of us, spider people, you could say, shouldn’t be here, and yet, it’s been years since you founded the Spider Society and your universe is still standing,” you remind him. “Then, there’s me. I’m staying here in your universe more than I usually am, probably spending as much time as you did in Gabriella’s universe, and your universe is fine. Your presence didn’t lead to what happened, Miguel.”

“Maybe… or maybe it only applies to certain universes. Or maybe, Gabriella was supposed to be Spider-Woman and me being there disrupted something. I don’t know anymore,” he says, looking at the fireplace, sounding tired.

You look up at him, noticing how his beautiful red eyes almost seem to glow thanks to the flames.

“We will figure it out one day,” you reply softly, trying to reassure Miguel. You inch closer to him, knowing that tonight has been emotionally exhausting for him. He’s kept so much tucked away, but at last, he’s unlocked it. “I don’t think it was a disruption, a canon event. It’s something else that we’ve overseen. I refuse to believe that she was meant to be on her own. No child deserves that and what you did… I would’ve done the same,” you whisper to him. “It wasn’t you, Miguel. I wholeheartedly believe that it wasn’t you.”

Miguel’s gaze turns to you, his crimson eyes meeting yours. He sees that you truly believe what you just said. You’re not just saying it to sooth his guilt. You believe it. And the fact that you’ve said that you would’ve done the same, that means so much to him, more than you’ll ever realized.

“Thank you for saying that because for some time… I’ve been wondering if I should’ve left Gabriella alone, even if a different kind of guilt ate at me. I just… I really didn’t want her to suffer. To go from having everything, to nothing.”

“I understand,” you start. “It would’ve eaten me alive to know that I could be doing something for her, so I understand completely. You’re a good person, Miguel,” you say and he looks at you, with doubt in his eyes. “You’re a kind and loving man, and that’s why you did it. Not because you were selfish. You stepped up when Gabriella lost the one person she had in her universe, when she needed someone. Otherwise, her life would’ve been very different. Maybe, it wasn’t going to be horrible, but even then, she deserved more than an okay childhood on her own. Gabriella deserved to continue to have the same things she had before someone took them away from her. And you gave her that. You made her happy and made her feel loved. She didn’t know suffering, pain, or loss. You did what you swore to her biological father. You loved and looked after her because she was yours,” you say softly. “She was your daughter and you were her father. Always will be, no matter what. You were a great father, Miguel,” you whisper. “Still are because you honor her. You still care about her, and you’ve allowed her to be one of your reasons for moving forward.”

Miguel’s eyes close for a few seconds after you finish, a tear escapes from his eyes. Your words bring a certain warmth to his heart. He opens his eyes again, meeting yours before he gives you a small smile. “Thank you, you don’t know… how much that means to me,” he whispers.

You return the small smile and nod, your heart aching for Miguel. “And I believe that wholeheartedly, too,” you whisper. “Thank you for sharing this with me, too. I know it isn’t easy.”

He nods. “It isn’t but talking about it helps. I learned that from someone,” he says quietly, fondly looking at you. He swallows softly. “After everything happened, I was certain I’d never talk about it. It was too painful but… look at me now.”

You smile warmly and nod. Yes, look at him now. You briefly remember the man you met that first day at HQ when you were brought here to Nueva York by Jess. The man you met that day is not the same man in front of you now. “I… I’m really…” you start. Should you?

“What is it?” Miguel asks. “You can tell me.”

“I’m really - really proud of you, Miguel,” you whisper. “I know it’s not easy to, even when you know it’s good to talk about it because it helps. It’s not easy and yet, you’ve done it. I’m really proud of you, and just know, I’m touched that you trust me enough to share this with me.”

Miguel nods slowly, your words sinking in. You’re proud of him.

“And you should be proud of yourself, too,” you continue with a little smile. “You’ve kept your promise to your family and I have no doubt that they’re happy to see you go through with it. For them.”

“I hope so,” he replies. “I really hope so, even though sometimes I think I don’t deserve to move forward and live life, because they didn’t get the chance to.”

Your lips purse in disappointment and yet, a part of you understands why Miguel thinks this way.

“I used to think that way, too. About Peter’s death,” you say softly, earning yourself a frown from him.

“That wasn’t your fault,” he says gently.

“I know that now but I used to tell myself I could’ve saved him if only I had been quicker, smarter, better… That I could’ve given him some minutes - minutes that could’ve saved his life. You know… I cut ties with my previous friends with the exception of one. They cut contact with me after Peter’s death but,” you pause, looking at your mug for a second. “The reason why I did it was because of that guilt,” you confess for the first time. Miguel’s brows furrow. “I believed that if I couldn’t save my partner, then, I probably couldn’t save my friends. I believed they were better off without me, so I cut ties with them little by little until they stopped calling and showing up… Until I became someone they used to know.”

“Y/N…” Miguel whispers, his heart aching for you because how could you ever believe that? Anyone that has you in their life is lucky. He is lucky.

“Peter made me promise to try to move forward. And I’ve tried, but there were so many days, especially in the beginning, when I wondered why should I when he didn’t get to? I believed it was my fault, my failure. I thought I failed him… so why should I try to move forward and have a life when I failed to give him the same chance?” you ask with a sigh. “But Peter asked me to… For him,” you continue, eyes softening. “And even though it didn’t make losing him easier, I realized I could live and love for the two of us… And maybe, Peter believed that in the end, too, and it was part of the reason why he asked that of me, on top of the fact that he was an unselfish man and he probably didn’t want me to shut down completely the way I did anyway,” you say sadly yet feeling fondly of Peter.

“It doesn’t make it easier but, you trying to move forward will be for you and for them, too. You can love the world like little Gabriella did. Smile and laugh like Gabriel did, with his cheeky smile and everything,” you say, which causes Miguel to breath out a short chuckle, his eyes filling up with tears. “You can honor your loved ones by the way you live your life. As they would live it, if they had a chance.” You nod at him, tears swelling in your eyes as well. “They don’t want you to think that way, Miguel. And if you needed a sign, your dream, or this experience you had, is exactly that confirmation. They don’t want you to think or live that way. And… neither do I. Nor everyone else in the Spider Society who cares about you, Miguel, because believe it or not, there’s a lot of people that care about you.”

Miguel nods gently. He feels tears threatening to spill over your kind and warm words.

“Thank you,” he says, still holding on to his mug. Your words really do mean so much to him. “Thank you for sharing that with me, about Peter. And thank you for the words, they… Make me see things differently,” Miguel admits. “I also want to tell you, that I’m relieved you no longer think like that because it wasn’t your fault,” Miguel continues, feeling heartache about this. It kills him to find out that you felt like that when you were all alone and you had no one to tell you that it wasn’t true. He wishes he could’ve been there to assure you that you had done everything you could’ve. “And, also, I want you to know that everyone who has or ever had you in their life, is lucky.” Miguel looks at you, a soft expression on his face. “I know I’m lucky to have you in my life. It’s a privilege, Y/N. Never forget that,” he says gently.

You smile warmly at him as you wipe some tears away. “Likewise, Miguel,” you whisper.

After such a conversation, Miguel and you sit close to each other in silence. You give each other time to collect yourselves, together. About ten minutes later, you notice Miguel drinking from his mug. It’s been a while since you served the canelita, so you’re certain his drink must be cold by now.

You nod towards Miguel’s mug. “I can get you some more. Whatever you have left is probably really cold, here,” you say standing up, offering your hand to take it.

Miguel reluctantly gives you the mug, feeling like you’re doing too much for him but before he can say anything, you take the mug from him and walk to the kitchen to get him more. You come back quickly, holding his mug with warm canelita and a small plate with pan dulce. You take a seat on the floor again after handing him his mug and placing the plate on the coffee table.

“I brought some pan dulce. I don’t know if you want some,” you offer.

Miguel nods before he places his mug on the coffee table, and before you know it, he’s sitting on the floor, too. He leans his back on the couch for support, sitting about three feet away from you. You notice the blanket and your sweatshirt came along with him, and both things now rest on his lap. You weren’t expecting for him sit down on the ground with you but you say nothing about it, and instead, you offer him a napkin for the bread.

The two of you eat small pieces of Mexican bread called garibaldis, a kind of pan dulce that you’ve noticed Miguel really enjoys. Typically, the two of you would eat it with coffee but due to the time and moment, you eat with canelita instead.

Once Miguel finishes his, he drinks from his mug. It’s so warm and sweet, so comforting. He turns to look at you just as you finish yours. He suddenly remembers how you told him earlier that you would’ve known about him having a nightmare anyway, even if he had closed the bedroom door.

“Earlier, you said that you would’ve known I was having a nightmare regardless of my bedroom door being closed or not. How come?”

You place your napkin on the coffee table. “It was my spidey senses,” you say simply because at this point, you believe the two of you need no further explanation. There’s a connection that allows you, and Miguel it seems, to sense things about each other, like how he sensed something was happening a few weeks ago when your building caught on fire. Neither of you know how it works though the two of you have silently wondered about it. You’ve specifically wondered if it will develop more, whether you’ll be able to sense more deeply as time goes on, and whether that will apply to Miguel as well.

Miguel hums in response. He had a feeling that was going to be your answer. The connection. The bond. It’s so comforting to him, no longer scary like it once used to.

You nod, wondering now. It’s the first time your spidey senses have warned you about one of his nightmares. Otherwise, this wouldn’t be the first night like this. You would’ve tried to be here for Miguel so much sooner if you had been warned other times. You wonder if you were only able to sense it tonight because you’re in the same universe as him. Maybe the first time this connection presented itself across the multiverse was because he was in legit danger and that’s why you sensed it. It would make sense why you’ve failed to sense his nightmares, as he’s not in real danger.

You take a drink from your mug. If that’s the case and you can’t sense his nightmares unless you’re here in Nueva York… You turn to look at Miguel as you place your mug back on the table. You don’t want Miguel to spend another night like this alone. Ever. You consider asking him something right now but decide against. You can ask him in a few hours, or maybe at a better time.

“How… how often do you have them?” you ask Miguel softly.

He stays silent for a few seconds. “This is the first one since the beginning of the year. They’ve decreased over the last few months. Sometimes it’s just two or three times a month but I used to have them daily those first weeks when - I came back and was still making an effort to sleep.”

You nod but don’t ask anything else. You don’t want to ask more just in case Miguel isn’t ready. You’re relieved that his nightmares have lessened at least but you wish he didn’t have them at all anymore.

Miguel contemplates telling you more. He’s already shared a fair amount and maybe it’s too much for one night alone.

“You know I’m here, right?” you ask softly. “I’m here for you. If you want to talk, we can talk. Or if you want silence, then we can sit here in silence. If you want music, I can put some for us. You just - tell me and I’ll do it,” you tell him, as if sensing that he wants to share more.

Miguel nods and leans further back into the couch. You do the same. Maybe he does want silence after all, and you’re more than fine with that. You’ll offer him whatever he needs, no questions asked.

“May I tell you about the nightmares and about that last day?” he asks quietly as if there’s any chance that you’d tell him no.

“If you want to, I’ll listen,” you respond gently, facing him.

Miguel nods, preparing himself mentally and emotionally, though a large part of him feels like he can do this. He can talk about it with you.

“They started the first night I was back. After losing them and watching an entire universe cease to exist before my eyes… I was exhausted in every way possible. I tried to sleep but it only lasted for about an hour before I woke up,” Miguel starts, his voice low. “The first nightmare was when she… When she was just gone from my arms, like she never existed. Like, she was all part of my imagination. As if I hadn’t brushed her hair that morning and made sure she had everything in her backpack after packing her lunch. She was so excited.”

Miguel brushes his fingers over your sweatshirt’s sleeves.

“We started the day like any other. There was no sign of danger. Nothing that could’ve warned me.” Miguel looks away, a look of disbelief in his face. “She was going to have soccer practice after school. She was so excited,” Miguel whispers. “It was a normal day - a perfect day - and then it all changed. I was suddenly running, carrying her in my arms and I had no idea what was happening. I was trying to figure it out in my head, while simultaneously telling myself that I would do anything **to keep her safe. To keep her alive. I was more than ready to give my life if it meant that she lived.”

Miguel sighs heavily, holding tight to your sweatshirt. “She called for me. I held her in my arms and she kept calling up to me. Her sweet voice was filled with fear and all I could do was run and run through the city hoping, praying to something, anything, to protect her. To keep her alive. To let her live and experience life. To grow up and make memories, have experiences. And then… she was gone. My hands were empty. The only sign that there had been someone in them to begin with was her warmth,” Miguel whispers. “Until that warmth faded, and there was truly nothing. Nothing but memories and her cries of fear in those last seconds before she - before she was gone.”

A heaviness settles in your chest as you listen to Miguel. His tone and face expression - it breaks your heart. You stare at him, a genuine look of empathy etched on your face, the kind that makes Miguel feel like you can understand him and his emotions.

“That’s usually my nightmare. That moment. Over and over again. Sometimes, it’s both my wife and Gabriella disappearing and I’m unable to move or do anything. All I can do is watch as they both yell for my help.” Miguel takes a moment to collect himself. “Tonight’s… Gabriella was upset with me. She was angry that I lied. That I didn’t tell her what happened to her biological father. That I pretended to be her father. And I just kept begging her to forgive me,” Miguel says as he recalls his nightmare. “And then, she left. She didn’t want to see me anymore.”

You nod slowly, heart aching. You can see the pain and heartache on his face. Hear it in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Miguel,” you whisper gently, meaning it.

“I was going to tell her when she was older but it was a fear I had. That she would hate me for it and want nothing to do with me,” he admits.

“I don’t think she would’ve hated you,” you tell him. “It would’ve been a shock of course but you are her father. Took care of her, loved her. She would’ve never walked away from her second father.”

“I don’t know,” Miguel says. “Maybe she would’ve.”

“I know we can’t be certain but you always tell me how sweet she was. How smart and caring she was. How much she loved you. She would’ve grieved her biological father but I think she would’ve also understood your decision and realized, you meant to do well.”

With a little smile, Miguel nods. “She was sweet, so sweet and caring. And so smart… Maybe you’re right. She would’ve been upset about Miguel, her biological father, rightfully so. Maybe after some time, she would’ve forgiven me. At least I hope so…” Miguel says holding his mug, pondering this. It was something that kept him up sometimes while he was in Gabriella’s universe.

“Do you mind, telling me more about her?” you ask gently, hoping that maybe by talking about Gabriella, about the beautiful moments he shared with her, you might be able to sooth Miguel.

“Yes,” he replies, grateful to talk about Gabriella. After a few seconds, he decides to show you what little pictures he has. “Lyla, can you please show pictures of Gabi?”

Three seconds later, a hologram screen appears between Miguel and you, displaying a photo of Gabriella alone. She’s holding up a soccer ball, smiling at the camera with the sweetest smile. The sight makes you smile immediately, something that Miguel notices.

He stares at you, watching your smile. He can’t help but smile softly before he returns his eyes to Gabriella, though the mere sight of you smiling at a photo of his daughter creates a different kind of warmth to spread across his chest.

“She loved soccer. I’ve mentioned it already but she - she was an amazing player. So passionate. So dedicated. Not just for soccer either. She loved school and always had good grades. I thought she’d have her moments, you know,” Miguel says quietly, staring at the photo. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels tears roll down his face. He hastily wipes them away. “But she surprised me. She was so eager to complete her homework. She was so smart and I - I have no doubt that she would’ve accomplished amazing things,” Miguel adds, eyes glistening. Miguel sighs quietly, wiping his eyes with his free hand.

“She loved bees,” Miguel continues, which reminds him of one particular moment. “One time she saved one. You should’ve seen her. She was so worried about it dying that she took care of the bee until it was able to fly again. It was all she could talk about during soccer practice,” Miguel says smiling fondly. “She loved the color lilac. It was one of her favorite colors. She loved the guitar… The one I always offer for Dia de los Muertos. She could play it,” Miguel tells you. “She used to sing this song… ‘Luna de Xelajú” it was called. She loved it but she loved so many other songs. She liked to sing in the car,” Miguel goes on as he remembers more and more things about Gabriella that he’s kept tucked away in his memories.

As Miguel talks, the photos have been changing. As he comes to a pause, the last photo changes to a short video of Gabriella running on a field. She runs to the camera, smiling.

“I did it, daddy!” she says happily and a knot instantly forms in your throat. You clear your throat softly, feeling the loss for someone you never met but yet, know so much about. The video ends and switches to another photo. It’s a much closer photo of Gabriella, her face is relaxed as she smiles. You stare at her eyes, at the beautiful deep shade of brown you’re sure Miguel once had. The sight of sweet and innocent Gabriella stirs something in you, and before you know it, you lift a hand, as if to caress Gabriella’s face. It’s too late by the time you notice, and you instantly regret it, fearing that this might upset Miguel - that this gesture might trigger memories that are still painful for him.

However, Miguel’s eyes soften at the gesture. That warmth in his chest grows. “She likes you,” he says before he realizes.

You turn to look at Miguel as you put your arm down, wondering if you’ve heard him correctly.

Miguel stares at the photo, avoiding your eyes as he realizes what he’s said but it’s too late now to take it back. After a few seconds of silence, Miguel speaks.

“My nightmares have decreased over the months. I think it’s because…” he trails off as his fingers find your sweatshirt again and you understand. “Thanks to you. So on some nights, I have normal dreams. I dream of them. Of my family. I dream of Gabriel and Gabriella very often. My mom and my wife appear sometimes but it’s mostly Gabriel and Gabi. Sometimes,” Miguel says pausing as he continues to stare at the photo. “I dream about you as well. With them.” Miguel stops and glances at you, trying to gauge your reaction, wondering if you’ll be weirded out by that. Yet, when he turns to look at you, he finds a warm smile on your face and he realizes, you’re not upset about it. If anything, your smile would suggest you find it endearing.

“Really?” you ask softly. “I wish I could’ve met them in real life.”

“I do, too,” Miguel says, leaning slightly closer as if he’s about to share a secret. And in a way, he guesses it is a secret because just like his nightmares, Miguel has kept the good dreams to himself, too. Until now, of course, because as photos and videos of Gabriella and him play between you, Miguel tells you about his dreams.

He shares that you’ve played dolls with Gabriella and that in one dream, she asked him if you could do her hair because only you could achieve a specific hairstyle she wanted for one of her soccer matches. He doesn’t tell you how he woke up smiling about that particular dream because the sight of you doing Gabriella’s hair was too sweet, too endearing for him even in just a dream.

He tells you how the two of you and Gabriel have talked over café de olla, though he cannot remember the conversations themselves. Miguel even tells you about one dream in which his younger brother was teasing him but you backed up Miguel, which makes you chuckle softly. He almost tells you that Gabriel seems to treat you like a sister but that would probably be too much, so he doesn’t share that.

“They both really like you. I would say… they love you,” Miguel says once he’s done sharing some of his dreams. “I truly have no doubt they would’ve if they were alive.”

That makes you smile warmly at him before you look at the photos again. “I hope you don’t mind me telling you this, and maybe it’s strange, but despite not having the opportunity to meet them… I care about them, and I mean it when I say I wish I could’ve met them.” You decide to leave it only at “caring” and avoid telling Miguel that you actually love his family because it might be too much.

At your words, your honesty, Miguel smiles softly. He’s touched that you care about two of the most important people in his life. He’s also almost sure that you’re holding something back, just from looking at your face.

“You wanted to say something else,” he says.

You turn to look at him again and smile sheepishly. “Sometimes I’m still amazed at how well you can read me. Peter used to do that, too, and it never ceased to amaze me,” you reply as you glance down at your nearly empty mug of canelita. “You are right… I was going to say that I love your family, Gabriel and Gabriella, but that probably sounds weird since I never met them.”

“They’d love you, too.” That makes you look up and Miguel continues. “They probably do from wherever they are, based on that dream from almost a year ago,” Miguel says gently, meaning it. He believes it. They already love you in his dreams, so he has no doubt they probably do from wherever they are.

Miguel’s words not only warm your heart, but also your cheeks. You smile warmly at him. “That… that’s really sweet of you, thank you.”

“I mean it,” Miguel says, his head tilting to the side as he looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time since he woke up. You’re in your pajamas, looking so comfortable and cozy. You were probably sleeping so peacefully, with your arms wrapped around a pillow like you always do before you woke up due to him. “It’s really late,” Miguel says. “You must be tired. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Are you sleepy?” you ask, a part of you hoping he is, so that he can get some rest after how much he has shared tonight. You watch Miguel carefully, trying to figure out how he’s feeling.

“Even if I’m not, you should get some sleep yourself. You don’t have to stay up,” Miguel says, meaning it because your presence alone in the penthouse is calming to him.

“I don’t want to - leave you alone,” you confess quietly.

Miguel’s face softens at your words. He gives you a small smile. “The fact that you’re here in the penthouse alone makes me feel better. You can go to sleep if you want, really,” he says softly but you shake your head.

“If you stay up, I stay up with you. You don’t have to talk to me, or even acknowledge me but just… let me stay with you. I can’t stand the mere thought of you alone, Miguel… I don’t want you to ever be alone on nights like these again, so I dare ask you something that might be too much but, just consider it, please,” you say, gently. You’ve hardly ever asked anything of Miguel and tonight, you dare to. “Whenever you have nightmares, I ask that you get me. I don’t care where I am. Here in Nueva York or in my universe, but please reach out to me. I’ll come to you if you’d prefer. Or you can go to my apartment, just… You don’t have to be alone, Miguel,” you say, looking at him and hoping that he’ll consider it.

Miguel gulps softly at your words, at the way you’re staring at him so fondly, so tenderly. It’s a look that makes it impossible for him to reject you and your request. You could ask anything of him with that look on your face and he’d do it. So he nods his head at you and you smile warmly at him, happy that Miguel’s letting you stay with him and that he’s agreeing to what you’ve asked.

“Okay…” he says. “I will but I really don’t want to wake you up.”

You shake your head. “I don’t care. Please don’t hesitate. Please… promise me you will?” you ask so softly your voice is barely audible.

Miguel nods, looking at you with the same tenderness you have on your face. “Alright… I promise.”

After Miguel’s promise, the two of you spend another hour in his living room, just sitting next to each other within short distance. At some point, you stand up to get more canelita for the two of you to drink. There’s moments of silence, but they’re comfortable ones. Then, there’s moments when you talk. Eventually, you happily notice that Miguel begins to look sleepy, giving you hope that he can get a little sleep before sunrise.

“Do you want to head upstairs?”

Miguel shakes his head. He doesn’t want to go upstairs right now.

“You’re growing sleepy.” You say this as a matter of fact and Miguel knows it. He’s getting sleepy, which is a first for him on a night like this. He has no doubt it’s because you’re here with him. “Do you want to… lie here?” you ask looking at the ground.

That makes Miguel raise an eyebrow slightly. Are you suggesting that he sleeps on the ground with you nearby?

“I’ll stay here with you,” you continue. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Miguel declines but twenty minutes later, you can tell he’s growing more sleepy so you try again. You grab a pillow from the couch and offer it to him. “Lie down at least.”

Miguel takes the pillow with a sigh and then to encourage him, you grab one for yourself. You gently push the coffee table away from the two of you until it reaches the other couch, the one where you always sit at, so that there’s enough space for the two of you to stretch out. You place your pillow on the floor and then lay down.

Miguel peers down at you as he remains sitting, holding the pillow. You’re really trying to get him to sleep, even taking initiative. So, Miguel places his pillow down and lays down slowly. He lays on his back and stares at the ceiling for a few seconds. He’s never done this before. He’s never laid on his living room floor like this. He turns his head to look at you. You’re on your back, too, staring at the ceiling.

With a soft sigh, Miguel rolls on his side, facing you. He feels your blanket shift over him, reminding him that he still has it. He grabs it and extends it, letting it fall over your body to keep both of you warm.

Your lips threaten to curl upwards at the gesture, but you successfully refrain from doing so. “Thank you.”

“Always,” Miguel whispers as the two of you now lay on the same floor, under the same blanket with about two feet of distance.

As you lay there, you place your hand in the space between the two of you. Your pinky is pointed at him. A silent offering.

You both remain quiet for several minutes and just when you start to think that Miguel fell asleep, you feel it. His pinky wraps around yours gently without warning. You stay still, looking at the ceiling without saying anything. You simply enjoy the way his pinky feels wrapped around yours. After about two minutes or so, you roll on your side, facing him, too.

Miguel blinks slowly at you. He’s quickly giving in to his sleep but despite that, he’s reminded of a realization he had not too long ago. On Valentine’s Day.

You’re not only his friend, or close friend.

You’re his best friend.

As he thinks about it again while staring at you, Miguel’s cheeks turn pink. He hasn’t had a best friend since Gabriel, but that’s changed. He has you. His cheeks grow warmer as he knows what that means. Not only did you walk past his walls of defense - you also managed to slipped into a person’s most emotionally sensitive part - his heart. And the last time someone took residence in it, he lost them. He’s lost everyone that has ever meant something to him. Everyone he’s ever loved.

And he doesn’t want to lose you, too, because he doesn’t know if he could take it. Another loss. He can’t lose you because he… loves you. His best friend.

Miguel blinks sleepily at you. He gives your pinky a gentle hug, a squeeze. “Thank you for being here with me,” he whispers gently.

“Always,” you whisper back. You smile tenderly at him before you continue, whispering in the dead of night. “You’re not alone, Miguel. You don’t have to be anymore.”

He nods, a hint of a smile on his sleepy features. “Did you know…”

You raise an eyebrow, watching as Miguel slowly but surely gives in to his sleep. His eyes close more, his eyelids growing heavy.

“You’re my best…” Miguel starts but he falls asleep before he finishes his statement.

You stare at him as he finally gives in to sleep. He has such a gentle expression on his face, so peaceful. Meanwhile, your heart beats wildly against your chest as his words sink in. He was about to admit it out loud. That you’re his friend. No, his best friend.

You smile to yourself, a few tears forming in your eyes. Miguel considers you his best friend, just like you consider him yours. Tears roll down your face, over your nose and onto your other eye because of the way you’re laying on the ground. You wipe them away carefully.

It’s been a while since you’ve had a best friend, since Peter. You sniffle quietly and continue to smile as you look at Miguel, at your best friend. Your eyes flicker to your pinkies, still curled around each other’s, like a hug.

Shortly after, as you’re about to fall asleep, you feel Miguel shift in his sleep. You open your eyes just as his hand moves entirely over yours. His pinky is now wedged between your pinky and ring finger. His middle and ring fingers rest between your index finger and thumb. His forefinger is wrapped around the base of your thumb. His own thumb lays over your wrist, right where your pulse is located. Besides his thumb, the rest of his hand is curled around yours, protectively.

And for the first ever, you allow yourself to touch him. Just for this night.

You curl your fingers around his and as you doze off, you swear his gentle grip tightens ever so slightly.

—

Miguel sleeps with a peaceful expression on his face. You watch over him as the hours tick by. You fall asleep a few times during the night but always wake up to still find the sight of Miguel sleeping. Your hold on each other never loosens up, or at least you don’t think so, as each time you wake up, Miguel’s gentle grip and yours is the same.

At around 6am, Lyla appears above you. You blink, for a second wondering if you’re imagining her due to your sleepy state, but she moves closer and you know she’s real. She shows you a holographic sign.

“Do I wake him up?” she asks through the sign.

You think about it for a few seconds, turning to look at Miguel to your left. Your gaze takes in his soft and relaxed expression. A strand of hair has fallen over his forehead at some point while you’ve slept, and for about two seconds, you consider pushing it back gently but decide against it. Your ears register his breathing, slow and even, and when you look down at where his chest should be under the blanket, there’s a gentle rise. The warmth from his hand is strong and delightful and of course, there’s the feeling of his hand alone. Your palms are facing each other, his fingers are curled around your hand, his pinky wrapped around yours securely. Never faltering.

You sigh softly as you continue to watch Miguel. While living with him, you’ve learned that he wakes up at 6am every day but due to the night he’s had, you don’t have it in your heart to wake him up. Not yet. You decide he could really use at least one more hour.

You turn to Lyla, who has been watching you the entire time, noticing your tender and lingering gaze on her boss. It’s a sight, the way you watch Miguel. There’s never been any doubt in her mind that you care about him but if there was, this night would’ve erased it. For so long, Miguel has handled his nightmares on his own. And, there’s never been a single night that Miguel managed to find sleep either, but for the first time, he sleeps peacefully after a nightmare. Tonight, there was no sitting alone in his bedroom for hours before moving to the living room and sitting in the darkness.

There was no pacing around the penthouse on his own. No, tonight Miguel had a companion after a nightmare. He had a warm drink made for him and that same person sat near him in companionship, made him feel calm and warm, kept him grounded to the present despite talking about the past. It’s been clear to Lyla that you care about Miguel deeply, as he cares about you.

You shake your head at last, and mouth a “no” that Lyla immediately catches. She understands. Miguel ought to sleep a little longer. She nods and gives you a little thumbs up, watching for a few more seconds as you turn to look at Miguel again. She watches as you place your free arm under your head for a little more support, getting comfortable. She notices your eyes closing and silently nods to herself. You need sleep, too. You both do. Her eyes move to the joined hands in between the humans’ bodies. That’s a sight, too, one worthy of… She takes a snap and then flickers out, knowing her presence is not needed, for the humans have each other.

You wake up about forty minutes later. You remain in the same position as you watch the sun slowly come up in Nueva York. Gentle streams of sunlight enter the penthouse since the blinds are not fully drawn. Their presence is warm and comforting. A glance at your gizmo tells you it’s almost 7am.

You look over at Miguel. He’s still sleeping with his head on the pillow. Your blanket is up to his collarbone. There’s still that little strand of hair over his forehead. There’s the sun’s rays, the light softly cascading over him in some areas like parts of his hair and cheek. He looks so peaceful. So beautiful without a trace of worries or pain.

You can’t help but continue to watch him without guilt or worry about doing so. You let yourself admire him openly.

Miguel is a sight for sore eyes.

You look away at last and notice the time. Less than eight minutes before 7am. You’ll be waking up Miguel soon because you know he’ll still want to go to HQ, probably to try and make his day a normal one like he always does. You silently decide that you’ll stay near him today, and that you’ll be extra attentive to make his day a little better.

You send a quick message to Gwen through your gizmo, asking for a small favor and then wait it out. You relish the few minutes left of this moment. Miguel’s hand is still over yours. His gentle grip has grown firmer while you’ve both slept.

You cherish the few minutes left, the warmth of his hand, the vulnerability of it all but all too soon, you feel Miguel shift in his sleep. You glance at him, noticing his body move for the first time since he fell asleep. His eyes flutter open, bringing you into focus. He gazes at you sleepily. Something in his chest sparks - glows - at the sight of you near him.

He becomes aware of the way his hand is positioned, of the way he’s holding on to your hand, quite quickly because he feels your warm and gentle skin against his. And yet, he doesn’t make an effort to let go.

You don’t think about it much. He’s probably still in a sleepy state and the realization hasn’t fully hit him. Or maybe, just maybe, Miguel is okay with it. You silently hope that it’s the latter.

“Good morning,” you whisper gently as Miguel’s eyes flutter a few more times, slowly waking up.

“Good morning,” he replies, his voice sleepy and deep.

You offer a small smile. “Do you feel a little rested?”

Miguel nods. “I do. More than I usually do… Do you know what time it is?”

“It’s…” you pause and check your gizmo, “two minutes before seven.”

Miguel nods but then he raises an eyebrow, realizing. “I’m going to be late. Lyla-”

“She asked but I told her not to,” you tell him gently, making him pause. “I thought an hour of sleep would be good… I hope you don’t mind.”

Miguel stares at you, his eyes gazing into yours. “Did you manage to sleep a little?” he asks and you nod, relieving him. “I’m glad… I know this was probably not comfortable, sleeping on the floor.” Miguel pauses, his eyes looking above you for a few seconds before they return to you. “I don’t mind that you allowed me sleep one more hour since you got some sleep, too. Thank you,” he says gently.

You nod and the two of you remain like that for a few seconds, savoring the quietness and peace of the moment, of this morning after everything. Miguel recognizes it. It’s such an intimate moment, one unlike any other. A part of him recognizes he’s never done something like this. He’s never slept on the living room’s floor, much less with someone. His mind goes back to a few hours, how the two of you sat on the floor and drank canelita while he talked about everything in the dimly lit room.

It’s the first time for Miguel to be in such an intimate, vulnerable situation like that.

He looks at your joined hands and suddenly realizes, he probably ought to let go now… He ought to but Miguel doesn’t want to. He’s actually okay with this. More than okay, really. He’s fine with it. Scratch that, he’s content and comfortable with it. Yet, he ought to let go now because maybe your hand, or your entire arm, is tired from being in this position for so long.

“We should probably get ready for the day,” Miguel starts, breaking the silence at last, even though he’s really enjoying this moment.

You nod slowly, understanding it’s time to get started with the day. At least you’ve managed to let him sleep a little longer - at least he’s slept after one of his nightmares at all. You smile softly and nod again.

“Yeah, we probably should. If you want to head upstairs and take a shower while I do some things.”

Miguel nods at that. Right, a shower. He always showers in the morning and then again in the evening.

You’re both in understanding then, it’s time to start the day. It’s time to get up and get going, and yet, neither of you initiate the process. Neither of you pull your hand away, or even move your body. You both continue to lay on the ground facing each other, hands joined, staring everywhere except at each other.

“GOOD MORNING, SLEEPYHEADS!”

Miguel and you jump slightly, instantly retrieving your hands from each other’s due to Lyla’s sudden appearance between you. She watches you both sit up. She can’t help but snort to herself at the sight, thinking to herself that you both needed a little nudge that she was more than happy to provide. It was that, or painfully watch the way you were agreeing it was time to get going without actually wanting to part from each other. She silently judges the two of you. It’s clear you were both more than comfortable with the physical touch but neither of you want to admit it. She shakes her head lightly and sighs.

“I hope you both slept well,” she comments, inspecting a hand with a grin. “I hear your little task is going well, Y/N.”

You raise an eyebrow at that before you remember. “Oh, right. Thank you.”

That makes Miguel raise an eyebrow of his own at you, wondering what this “little task” is. You shake your head and stretch slightly just as Lyla disappears again, her mission accomplished.

“It’s a little treat but a surprise, so I’m not saying anything. As soon as we’re ready, we head out,” you tell him with a little smile, hoping that the small gesture cheers him up a bit.

Miguel sighs but he gives you a small, barely there smile. “Alright, I won’t ask then. I guess I’ll go get ready,” he says standing up, hearing and feeling his bones crack in multiple places from sleeping on the floor. He’s probably going to feel the ache later. The two of you are probably, Miguel realizes, as he turns to look at you. He steps closer, towering over you as you remain sitting on the floor. He extends a hand.

You look up, eyebrows slightly raised as you look from his face to his large hand. He’s offering a hand to help you up. You gulp subtly. It’s not that Miguel never offers a physical hand when it’s needed. He lends a hand when it’s necessary but the suits are always in between. It’s never skin to skin, so looking at his extended, bare hand now, you can’t help but question how uncomfortable he’ll be about it just for the sake of being a gentleman because if there’s something about Miguel, it’s that he’s a gentleman without question. And sure, your hands were just touching but Miguel was sleeping so it was more of an unconscious gesture, or at least that’s how you see it.

“Is that… okay?” you ask, looking into his eyes for any discomfort.

He nods. “Yes,” he says softly, his hand still extended for you.

“I can… I’m alright. You should head upstairs and get ready,” you reply gently with a little smile. He’s a gentleman but you don’t have to accept and make him uncomfortable.

Miguel blinks, immediately figuring out what you’re doing. He keeps his hand stretched out. “Are you really going to leave my hand hanging?” he asks, not upset but rather amused and touched by your reluctance. He knows you, so well. You’re declining it for his sake. “Vamos, let me help you up. It’s the least I can do,” Miguel gently says, trying to coax you. [Let's go/ Come on.]

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“I think this is the longest anyone has ever kept my hand waiting,” Miguel says in a light teasing tone, still waiting for you to take his hand.

You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration before looking up at him. You’re giving him an out so he doesn’t make more physical touch than he has already. You search his face quickly, trying to find any discomfort but you find none. There is no discomfort. There’s not a trace or hint on his face that he’d prefer for you to reject his gesture.

You slowly reach out, feeling like time slows down as the distance between your hands decreases. You both watch as your hand reaches his at last, your fingers laying over his own tentatively. He tugs on your hand, his fingers folding your own until they’re tucked in his. When he feels the back of your fingers meet his palm, he then rests his thumb over your knuckles.

Feeling that you’re secure, Miguel gently pulls you, helping you onto your feet. You quickly loosen your grip, which was already loose to begin with, and gently pull your hand from his. You pretend to stretch again but your arm actually pops causing you to wince. You silently tell yourself that’s what you get for pretending.

“Thank you,” you say stretching said arm. “I’m going to… make some coffee.”

Miguel nods, his arm falling to his side. “I’ll be upstairs taking a shower.”

“Alright,” you reply, nodding, before you turn around and head to the kitchen.

Miguel nods, too, before he turns around himself and begins to head upstairs. He flexes his hand as he walks up the stairs, his suit activating from his wrist down to his fingertips for about three seconds before it flickers away. The sensation of your hand in his lingers all the way to his bathroom until he pushes the thought away to shower.

When Miguel steps out of the shower, he dries himself down and wraps a towel around his waist before approaching the double vanity sinks. He approaches the one he’s been using for years, the one he chose when he first moved into the place. He glances to the other one for a second, finding it empty as always before he retrieves what he needs. He begins to quickly but carefully shave off what little stubble he has. Miguel was going to do it last night but he put it off, thinking he could do it today after his morning shower, but of course, he had no idea what the night would be like.

Despite waking up later than he’s used to and possibly being tardy to HQ, Miguel shaves his face carefully to avoid any nicks or cuts. Once he’s done, Miguel washes his face to remove all product residue. He splashes lukewarm water onto his face, thinking about everything that happened over the night up to this morning. He slowly lifts his face, facing himself in the mirror. Droplets of water run down his face and splatter onto the sink. Miguel can’t help but notice a slight difference. He didn’t truly recognize the man staring back at him last night - hasn’t for a while. He couldn’t bear the sight, couldn’t stand to look into his own eyes.

He blinks now and stares. He looks right into his eyes and faces himself, truly, for the first time in years. And he finds, that for once, he can hold his own gaze without faltering.

Miguel’s past has tasted bitter for years. He’s carried and fought memories all on his own. He’s been cold and distant, and he’s built walls around himself for years. After losing Gabriella and his wife, there was no doubt in Miguel’s mind that his life was only meant for his job, to protect the fate of the multiverse. He believed that he was meant for nothing more. Not even friends.

But Miguel now knows that he’s wrong, and it won’t be the first nor last time he’ll be wrong about something.

Miguel frowns slightly as he finds a spot he missed entirely. He takes care of it, briefly remembering the one time you shaved his face almost a year ago. Miguel’s movements slow down as he remembers that day. He couldn’t move his arms too much that day due to the injuries and he mentioned wanting to shave the previous day, so you offered to do it the next day after his shower.

Miguel’s lips curl upwards at the memory. You seemed nervous about it, even asking him if you were doing okay because you were worried about hurting him but you did a fantastic job and he had no nicks or cuts by the end of it. As he places his razor down, he’s reminded of those days again and he’s struck by the fact that no one has ever looked after him in that way before you, not so intimately.

Miguel sighs and rinses his face again before he dries it off. He stares at himself in the mirror again. It’s morning and he’s made it past another night, this time with you by his side. He’s shared yet another part of his life, one of the most heartbreaking ones. One he once believed he’d never be able to talk about with anyone, but he has. Miguel turns to the side, towards the window.

His heart feels lighter. More than it has in a long time. He turns back to the mirror and meets his own eyes.

He made the promise almost a year ago to his deceased loved ones. The promise that he’d move forward, and he’s been trying.

“I’ll continue to try. I’ll try and be good on it. For all of you,” Miguel whispers as images of his loved flash in his mind. His wife, Gabriel, and his little Gabriella. Even for his mother and the other Miguel, who told him to take and appreciate the second chance at a different life. Miguel nods at himself, the image of you laying on the living room’s floor facing him just earlier when he woke up flashing in his mind. “For you, too,” Miguel says.

For his best friend.

With one last nod at himself, Miguel leaves the bathroom and quickly gets ready for the day to meet you downstairs. He enters the kitchen just as he puts his gizmo on. He finds you waiting by the counter, ready for the day yourself. You’re already in your suit, all showered and ready. There’s two thermos on the counter, which means coffee won’t be drank at the penthouse today. Miguel remembers suddenly that you have some little thing planned.

“Ready?” you ask with a smile when you notice Miguel.

He nods and walks further into the room. Your smile is a welcoming sight, as always. “I take it we’re leaving now?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Yep, we have somewhere to be! This is your thermos,” you reply handing him one. “If you’re ready, then we can be off.”

“Alright, I’m ready,” Miguel replies as he holds the thermos.

“Off we go then!”

“No hint as to where we’re going?” he asks.

“You’ll just have to come along with me to find out,” you reply as you lead the way to the living room.

Upon entering the living room, Miguel notices you’ve rearranged everything back. Your blanket is on the couch, neatly folded. Back in its home. The couch pillows are back in their usual places. He turns to look at you and playfully rolls his eyes because only last night he said that to you in this very room when the two of you were watching the telenovela.

“I see,” he replies with a soft frown as you open a portal with your gizmo before he offers you a smile, one that’s so much better than any other he’s offered over the last hours.

“It’s not big but I promise it’s good,” you say as you nod to the portal, gesturing for him to follow you.

And he does, because where wouldn’t he follow you?

The two of you enter the portal and step out into Gwen’s universe, specifically onto an empty rooftop. Miguel glances around but finds no one. Just what did you plan?

You move quickly once you step onto the rooftop, and search before you spot what you’re looking for. Miguel follows you with knitted eyebrows, thermos in his hand. You turn around and show him a takeout bag. His head tilts to the side.

“Follow me,” you say heading straight to the edge of the rooftop where you take a seat, with your legs dangling off the building.

Miguel takes a seat next to you and looks over at you as you open the bag. You hand him a medium size package. Upon touch, it’s warm.

“The best bagels, according to what we know right now, come from this universe,” you tell him as you pull one for yourself. “Go ahead, open it. I ordered you one that I thought you’d like.”

“Bagels… Thank you,” Miguel says slowly grinning at you, touched. The scent of food makes him realize he’s hungry, so he gratefully digs in.

You eat in silence next to each other, taking in the various hues of pink and purple. Miguel suddenly wonders.

“When did you ask Gwen for bagels?”

“Earlier,” you reply with a little smile.

Miguel returns the smile before his face softens. He looks down at his bagel. You definitely know him well because your choice for him is exactly what he would’ve ordered for himself. He looks up again, words forming on his tongue. “Thank you…. Not just for this,” he says, raising his bagel with a little smile. “But for everything else, too. I hope you know that it means a lot to me. Always,” Miguel says sincerely. “Everything means a lot to me.” Miguel pauses, looking up at the sky, thinking. He turns to look at you. “Thank you for not… giving up on me,” he whispers. “Even when I pushed you away in the beginning, when I ignored you and your coffee cups… You didn’t give up on me.”

You look into Miguel’s eyes, your heart racing due to his words. You nod gently. “Thank you for letting me in,” you whisper back.

Miguel gives you a soft smile before it fades a little. He taps one of his thighs with a finger, nervous. “You… You are…” Miguel tries. “You’re my…” He questions why it’s still so hard. The words are right there, right on the tip of his tongue, ready to be said out loud. “You’re my best…”

Your lips part as you hear his words. A few hours ago he almost said them in his sleep and now he’s trying again. Still, you remind yourself to be calm and collected. It’s a start and Miguel has opened so much over the last hours. Much more than he’s used to in such a short amount of time.

“And you’re mine, too,” you say gently, sincerely.

Miguel smiles warmly at that. He nods. “… Friend.”

You smile back and chuckle softly. “You’re my…” you start and then pause because maybe Miguel isn’t ready to hear you say it either, the way he’s not able to say it himself.

Miguel stares at you, watching as you’re about to say it but stopping. He takes a deep breath. He wants to say it. He needs to say it. And he wants to be the first to do so.

You smile at him. “We’ll get there,” you say softly, knowing that one day it will happen.

“I’ve lost a lot of people in my life,” Miguel tells you, holding your gaze. “It made me believe that my life was meant to be lived alone. It’s also made me believe that letting anyone close will end in something happening to them. That I’ll lose them, too.” Your eyebrows furrow as you hear this, at the fact that Miguel believes such a thing but it makes sense why he hasn’t let anyone in for so long. Suddenly, you realize. Is this why he’s found it hard to admit that you’re friends? That you mean something to him?

“It’s why I haven’t been able to say that you and me… What we are,” Miguel continues. “Maybe it’s stupid, but I’ve believed it. For a long time.”

You nod slowly, feeling overwhelmed by this revelation.

“What you said earlier, about living my life the way my loved ones would - it stuck with me. You’re right,” Miguel says nodding. He gives you a determined look. “They would probably tell me, Gabriel specifically, that my belief is foolish. And I think, neither Gabriel nor Gabriella would hesitate to say it, so…” Miguel trails off, finding the motivation from his loved ones to banish his belief once and for all.

“You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready. In due time, Miguel, really. Please take your time,” you say but not even a second later, Miguel speaks.

“You’re my best friend,” Miguel says gently, with a light pink growing on his cheeks.

Your eyes widen a little. You weren’t actually expecting him to say it today and with such ease. You blink several times, feeling flustered all of a sudden for a few seconds before a smile forms on your lips slowly. You hum softly and nod at him, feeling not only proud of him, but something else that stirs within your chest.

“Thank you,” you say softly, still smiling. “You’re my best friend, too.”

Miguel, whose heart has been racing since he spoke those once impossible words, smiles back at you. And for the first time, Miguel’s smile isn’t a small one like all his previous ones. It’s a real, real smile and it’s beautiful, just like you’ve always imagined it.

Miguel and you stare at each other, smiling. Your breakfast seems to have been forgotten for the time being until the silence is disrupted.

“More friends are approaching quickly. On your left,” Lyla says, appearing between Miguel and you to warn you before she disappears again.

“What?” Both Miguel and you say before you sense it, or rather them.

“Hey, there they are! Right where Gwen said they’d be at,” someone says. Hobie.

“Why were you doubting me? I told you they’d be there.” Gwen.

“Ay, tio! Y/N!” Miles says coming into view with everyone else in tow.

Miguel and you glance at each other before turning, only to find part of the spiderlings, who land on the rooftop within seconds, here now.

“Shouldn’t you guys be in school?” you ask with a little frown as it’s Friday morning.

“Yeah, why are you guys not in school?” Miguel asks with a frown of his own, a hint of his parental instinct coming to the surface.

“We still have some minutes,” Miles says with a shrug, smiling.

“Plus, we can easily just sneak into the building,” Pav says.

“Hobie,” you say.

“What of it? I already told them to go, but I’m not about to force them. Gotta encourage free thinking, you know?” he replies sitting next to you, giving you his signature smile.

You shake your head slightly, amused. Somewhere, you can sense the other spiderlings behind you.

“You guys interrupted a moment, you know?” Lyla says, sounding like she’s lightly scolding them.

“What moment?” Gwen asks.

“They finally admitted they’re best friends,” Lyla replies.

“Oh,” Miles replies.

“Wait, really?” Margo says.

“I could’ve sworn we all knew that already,” Gwen adds.

“I thought everybody knew that?” Pav asks, confused.

Miguel and you freeze as you look at each other, hearing everyone’s responses simultaneously. Next to you, you swear Hobie holds back from laughing, most likely for your sake, because you hear him snort. You silently decide that you’ll most definitely be talking with him later because this is the first time you’re hearing your friends admit this little piece of information.

Looking at Miguel, you can see his cheeks grow more pink. You grin at him, trying to hold back from chuckling but failing. Miguel shakes his head in amusement before chuckling lowly as well. The two of you continue to eat your breakfast as Gwen passes out bagels to everyone and soon after, everyone else joins. Peter B. with Mayday, Noir, Peni, and Spider-Ham all travel to Gwen’s universe.

“Hey, guys,” Peter B. says coming from behind, giving you and Miguel a pat on the back.

“Peter,” Miguel simply says as a greeting.

“Good morning,” you tell Peter who grins at you before he kneels between Hobie and you.

“What’s this I hear about someone finally realizing something very important?” he asks, causing Hobie to chuckle.

“Peter,” Miguel says again but this time more firmly and with a frown.

“I was talking about how -” Peter pauses, looking for something to say. “Hobie discovered he does like consistency in his bagels,” Peter finishes.

“No, I don’t,” Hobie interjects.

Miguel glares at Peter. “Right.”

“We talk later,” Peter says to you before he stands up to retrieve his bagel.

With a smile, you continue to eat yours while your friends chat all around you. Miguel and you simply stare at the skyline in silence as you eat.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, suddenly wondering if he doesn’t mind being around too much people this early after the night he had but Miguel nods.

“It’s… More than okay,” he replies honestly, staring at the tall buildings. “It hasn’t been a lonely morning.”

You nod slowly, understanding what he’s saying. His mornings after nightmares are usually spent alone until he gets to HQ.

“The chaos is nice,” he adds, looking at you now. He gives you a soft smirk.

“It is nice,” you reply, agreeing.

Miguel nods and looks at the sky, at the sun rising. It really is nice. And it feels new.

“I was thinking… Could you help me with something?” Miguel asks quietly.

You finish taking a drink from your coffee and nod. “Of course, what is it?”

Miguel turns to look at you. The spider gang is behind the two of you arguing about whose bagel is the best and Miguel wonders why they’re arguing about that when most of them should head to school. “I was thinking that the penthouse has been the same for many, many years. Decoration wise,” he starts. “I don’t really have the best experience with it. My mom and Gabriel were the ones that decorated it to begin with, actually, but I think it’s time for a little change.”

You smile. “And you would like for me to…”

“Help me make good decoration decisions. Your apartment - I really like it,” Miguel admits. “It always feels so warm and welcoming. Maybe you can give me some hints to make the place like that…”

“I’d be more than happy to.”

“Really?” Miguel says, for some reason sounding surprised.

“Really! When we get home, you can tell me what you’d like and we can make a mood board. Does that sound good?”

Miguel freezes for a moment.

‘When we get home...’

“Yes, that’s - that sounds great,” Miguel replies at last, nodding. He takes a sip of coffee, trying to ignore his thoughts on your words and instead focusing on the changes he’d like to make around the penthouse. One of his favorite parts of your apartment is your wall with photographs, something he lacks in his own home, but with this upcoming redecorating, Miguel thinks about how he’d like to have pictures of Gabriella and Gabriel around the place. He glances subtly at you. There’s also a lot of photos of you and him. He’d like to add those, too. Miguel stores the idea for later, for when the two of you get back to the penthouse, back home, and talk about it. For now, he focuses on the sounds of the city and your friends, who are still going on about the bagels.

He’s tempted to tell them you and him have the best ones just to fuel them but he decides against it, and just listens to them, enjoying the light bickering.

You eventually head to HQ to work. It’s an easy Friday with no missions involving anomalies. Just like you told yourself earlier, you stay near Miguel for the rest of the day, something he notices. You spend the day with him in the lab, working on your own things and talk occasionally. Of course, Lyla joins in on the conversations.

It’s no surprise that by four in the afternoon, the two of you are sluggish from the night you’ve had. Miguel looks at the time. You’ve both had coffee and food but the lack of sleep is definitely hitting the two of you at this point in the day and with one simple request to Lyla, Miguel learns that you slept far less than you made it seem this morning. He makes the decision then, to leave HQ earlier than he has in a long time.

“I’m almost done organizing this,” you tell him as you organize a drawer, your face showing your exhaustion. It tells Miguel the two of you definitely need to go now.

“That can wait for Monday.”

“I can come with you tomorrow.”

“Monday. Let’s go. I’m going to cook something that you’ll really like, I think,” he says, nodding to the lab’s door.

And so, upon reaching the penthouse, Miguel tells you to go and get comfortable. To go rest for a bit while he cooks but you end up changing into lounge clothes and joining him. You play music from his record player while he cooks some chilaquiles, a traditional Mexican dish, and one that never fails to cheer Miguel up.

After dinner, and a shower for Miguel, the two of you find yourselves in the living room again. With your tablet in hand, you start creating a mood board for Miguel’s place as he tells you about his ideas. The two of you sit on the floor once again, close to each other, so you can show him your screen and what you’re putting together for him. And while you work on that, the telenovela from the previous night, plays in the background.

---

Next Part Translations: telenovela - Latin TV soap opera Ave María Purísima - Hail Mary Most Pure, conceived without sin; Palmarian greeting Perdóname - Forgive me Hija - Daughter por favor - Please Lo siento mucho, mija - I'm so sorry, my daughter ternura - endearment, tenderness canelita - hot cinnamon tea pan dulce - sweet Mexican bread garibaldis - a kind of pan dulce Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Dead café de olla - coffee made in a pot (really craving this right now; running on three hours of sleep lol) Vamos - Let's go/ Come on tio - uncle chilaquiles - traditional Mexican dish, usually served for breakfast but it can be eaten for any meal of the day; consists of fried corn tortillas cut into quarters drizzled with a sauce and fresh cheese and accompanied with other sides like fried eggs and beans; my favorite dish; the way to my heart after tacos de asada --- Hi, guys!! I hope you're all doing well :) I'm sorry for how long it took me to update. I blinked and February just went by?? It's crazy 😭 it's already March! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter despite the sad bits. I really wanted Miguel to talk about his past and Gabriella, to take another step for him to heal. 🥺 I also took some liberty around the canon theory. I genuinely don't believe in it or that Miguel being in Gabriella's universe was the cause for the collapse. Maybe I'm wrong but it really doesn't make sense to me, so I decided to go this route. I feel like the real cause is going to be so obvious, and probably preventable in the end since the Society has been successful in saving some universes already but that's just my humble opinion! I want to give some shoutouts and credit now! @gxdoesstuff suggested (a while back) the idea of Miguel having a scarf in the lab with reader's scent to comfort him when he's stressed out! I've been waiting to include it since the New Year's one-shot and finally incorporated it!! It was so cute to think about and I loved the little interactions that came from it!! Thank you!! Also, shoutout to @desb3ar for the idea on Miguel putting a pillow inside reader's sweatshirt based on this post she made!! I've been thinking about this for months and wanted to include it and have reader see it, so I had to be patient for this part of the story🤭 Thank you, Des!! Just thinking about how Miguel probably imagines hugging reader! (I'm okay, not 😭) Also, shoutout to my friend @faretheeoscar - the garibaldis and chilaquiles mention was for you! I'm really craving both now tbh 😩 and to have Miguel make chilaquiles? Sign me up, ASAP!!! Can we just talk about how many steps Miguel took here? He admitted they're BEST FRIENDS!!! I'm so proud of Miguel for real!! 😭 And the way they're now watching a telenovela and going to redecorate his place! Fanservice... for me🧍🏻‍♀️... For anyone curious, the telenovela I was talking about is called Destilando Amor. I started rewatching it just for this chapter and then I just kept going lol, it had me giggling and everything! They really don't make them like they used to 😔 Anyway, I had little sleep so I think I'm rambling now. Went to sleep at 4am and woke up at 8 to finish this, but I'm so so happy to update!! I hope you guys enjoyed it!! Thank you for reading, and I hope March is treating you well so far!!! 😊❤️ -Alondra tag list: @loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi

@loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner@geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii

[azxulskz]

Somewhere between us.

Pairings: han jisung x m!reader

Genre: friends to lovers, college au!, fluff and fluff and fluff!

Warning: none.

Wc: 980!

Request: open.

Dividers: @sister-lucifer

A/n: wow, blxue posting???? Finally! I hope you guys would enjoy this one, I really hope this is good for you guys!! I can't wait to write more since I'm all free now that school has ended already!! Also, comment on what I should post next since I have another han fic in my draft, 2 felix fic, and currently working on a seungmin fic!! Since my request will be open for a while for more ideas and stuff, please drop by, also pls bare if there's any grammar mistake, English is indeed, not my first language. Likes, reblogs, and commenting will be highly appreciated, love u guys!!

Please don't repost, steal, copy, translate, and any kind of plagiarism. This is my work, so please don't steal it.

There’s a thing about best friends: people assume they’re temporary. Something about youth, timing, or growing pains. But you and Jisung had been best friends for years, and if you’re being honest, you never planned on growing out of him.

He arrived in your life like a storm in sneakers. Loud, chaotic, and impossibly charming in that annoying way that made teachers roll their eyes and strangers smile. He'd talk to anyone, laugh like life was a joke only he understood, and he made you feel like existing next to him was a privilege.

You were the quieter one. Observant. You liked watching him more than speaking sometimes. It wasn’t that you didn’t have anything to say—just that he said it better. So you let him. And somewhere along the way, being near him started to feel like home.

You told yourself it was just friendship. Boys grow close. Boys lean on each other. Boys don’t always say the things they feel because maybe the words are too fragile to carry in the open. Maybe some truths are too tender to survive daylight.

So you stayed quiet.

He didn’t.

---

"If I die first, delete my search history," he once said, completely unprompted while lying on your bedroom floor, surrounded by empty snack wrappers and an uneven playlist of sad indie and chaotic pop.

You laughed. "You’re not dying first."

"That’s so selfish of you."

"It’s not selfish if I go with you."

He looked at you then, really looked. Something unspoken hovered between you. Then he tossed a chip at your face.

Moments like that piled up like unsent letters.

You kept them all.

---

There was a girl once. He liked her, or thought he did. You watched him fumble with texts and pick out outfits and rehearse lines like he wasn’t already perfect in his mess. You helped him get ready.

Then he came home early.

"She was nice," he said. "But she wasn’t... you know. She wasn’t it."

You didn’t ask what it meant. You were scared the answer would break you.

---

One day, he stopped by your place unannounced. You weren’t surprised; he had a key and never used it. He preferred the dramatic knock, the slow push of the door, the exaggerated sigh as he announced, "Your favorite person has arrived."

You were on the couch, hoodie pulled over your head, pretending to read.

"Rough day?"

You nodded.

He didn’t ask questions. Just dropped beside you, close enough that your arms touched, but not close enough to say anything with it. He handed you a candy bar. Your favorite. You didn’t know how he always knew.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, worn in like an old hoodie. He rested his head against your shoulder.

"You’re always here when I need you," he whispered.

You swallowed. "You don’t even have to need me. I’m just here."

He smiled, not looking up. "That’s the best kind."

---

There was a moment.

Not a loud one. Not a kiss or a confession. Just a moment. You were watching a movie on your laptop, both of you lying side by side on your bed. It was a dumb movie, one you’d seen too many times, but it was background noise.

He shifted. His hand brushed yours.

Then stayed.

Neither of you said a word. Your pinkies curled together like secrets. And the world kept spinning.

---

It wasn’t love at first sight.

It was love after a hundred moments you didn’t recognize until they were memories. Love in the spaces between words. Love in late-night food runs and inside jokes and the way he always picked your fries even though he had his own.

You knew it, even when he didn’t.

You carried it alone. For months. Maybe years.

Until one day, it slipped.

You were arguing. Not really arguing, more like sparring with emotions too big for your chests. He had canceled plans last minute again. You pretended it didn’t hurt.

"Why do you care so much?" he snapped. "You don’t even say anything half the time. You just sit there and act like everything’s fine!"

You stared at him. "Because I like you, you idiot."

Silence.

He blinked.

You felt like the floor had vanished.

"You... like me?"

"Forget it," you muttered, already moving to leave.

But his hand caught yours.

"You like me," he said again, slower. Softer.

You couldn’t look at him.

He stepped closer. "Hey. Come on, look at me."

You did.

He was smiling. Not the teasing kind. Not the one he used to charm his way out of trouble. This one was real.

"You should’ve told me sooner," he whispered.

Your heart stopped. "Why? So you could let me down easy?"

He shook his head. "So I could tell you I like you back. So I could stop pretending."

Time folded in on itself.

You were still holding hands.

He leaned in. Not fast. Not dramatic. Just enough to press his forehead against yours.

"This okay?"

You nodded.

Then he kissed you.

And in that kiss were all the moments you never said, all the looks, all the almosts. It felt like closing a book and starting a new one at the same time.

When he pulled back, his voice was barely a breath.

"We’re really dumb, huh?"

You laughed, giddy and weightless. "The dumbest."

He grinned. "Good thing we’ve got each other to balance it out."

---

People talk about big, fiery love. The kind that burns hot and fast.

But you learned love could be quiet too. Slow and patient. Built in movie nights, ice cream runs, and two boys holding hands under dim lights, finally brave enough to say the things that lived in their hearts all along.

Somewhere between friendship and forever, you found love.

And it was his laugh, his eyes, his voice that carried you there.

[lewanarta]

Andrzej Stękała for Onet: "I would like to ask what Damian and I did to the president that he denied us basic rights, such simple safety." In an interview with Dawid Dudko, the Polish ski jumping medallist talks about the grief over his partner: "There are images of Damian's death that are stuck in my mind. There was no chance to save him."

Translation of the interview under the cut.

Dawid Dudko: Damian would like this interview?

Andrzej Stękała: I'm sure he would be sitting here next to me right now and together we would tell you about the eight years of our relationship and our plans to spend the rest of our lives together. For me we are still together, only Damian is no longer here, as if someone took him away from me.

Do you still cry a lot?

I try not to cry and look forward, go to trainings, meet people. People in general make me able to pull myself together somehow. The worst thing is when I'm left alone, then it's hard to bear it all, it gets really hard, so unbearable.

I guess it's good to let yourself cry, but it's also good to remember that the other person would like to see you happy, however difficult it is right now.

My loved ones tell me that they would like to see such a happy Andrzej, smiling like before. But right now I can't honestly be happy about anything. I would like to finish our house that Damian and I built together, I know he would like that.

After you started a relationship, you wanted to quit sports.

Well yes, I thought: what do you mean, a gay professional athlete! I imagined that if people found out, I'd be cancelled. I decided that if I must choose between love and work, the choice is obvious for me. It was thanks to Damian that I realised that if I wanted there to be a place for gay people in sport, I should do something myself.

And that something shouldn't be running away.

I think everyone wants to share their happiness with others, not hide your phone from your teammates in the locker room while your boyfriend texts you. That's how I behaved in the beginning, hiding my phone, constantly glancing behind me to see if maybe someone was looking and about to ask me something and I'd have to lie. I would go to training camps and hide. Separation from Damian was one thing, but even worse was the whole thing of hiding him from the world, as if I was going to do something bad with this love of mine to someone.

Were there fictional girlfriends?

I had a lot of female friends, I always enjoyed the company of girls, I just somehow never was drawn to them in the sense that I was drawn to colleagues. One day, around the time of primary school, I asked my mum if I could bring a girl home. I tried something with the girls, but of course nothing came out of it, because it couldn't come out.

It is said that mothers generally feel all this.

Mine felt it too. It was her I told first. We had a long conversation, she explained that she supported me, but that she wouldn't want anyone to hurt me when there is still a lot of homophobia around. She's a strong woman, she's been through a lot, I admire her. You have no idea how much time I spent doing this kind of assessment in my head, who I could possibly tell at the beginning, who wouldn't reject me and think horrible things about me, or would not call me names at all…

I have a very good idea.

Oh yeah, you know what I'm talking about.

Who was the first person you told at work?

My coach. He hugged me, told me it didn't change anything and that I was a f***ing awesome person.

And you got a big weight off your back.

How much can you live like that, purposely getting up early so no one gets suspicious that you live with the other guy? Because I told people I was living at my family home, and I was already with Damian at the time and we were renting a flat together.

And then you made a public coming out.

With that support from people close to me, not only family but also the guys I train with, it's been easier. My mates know that just because I'm gay doesn't mean you have to bit your tongue in front of me or not tell any jokes because it's not appropriate.

Because you have support and acceptance from them.

Well, I am very grateful to them for such openness. They don't allow themselves to be manoeuvred into political games.

What do you mean by political games?

You watch the news with your family, that family loves you, supports you, accepts you, and from the TV they hear that you are an ideology and a threat to the family. Our president denied the humanity of me too and the love of my life. It is known that many politicians play with homophobia, but this is the president of our country. And yet it was also the ‘scary’ gay man who was his source of national pride, shaking his hand.

Today, would you also shake hands with a president who threatened the nation with LGBT+ people?

I think I would. But I don't know if I would accept an individual state decoration from him, since who I am goes against his views. Today I would certainly like to talk to him, like a human being to human being. Because those few years ago, when he congratulated us on the team World Cup in Zakopane, the conditions for such a conversation were not there. And I was still sitting in the closet.

So what would you like to say to the president today?

I would like to ask what Damian and I did to the president that he denied us our basic rights, such simple safety. I would ask where the problem lies. Why the hatred? Mr President, you have a wife, your loved one. I also had a loved one, but officially we were strangers to each other. That really hurts.

And how do you feel this formal strangeness on a daily basis? Strangeness, let's be more precise, enforced by the lack of civil unions in Poland, the possibility of formalising the shared lives of two, adult, loving people.

There are images from Damian's death that have stuck in my mind. Certainly that moment when I found him at home, lying on the floor, and I tried to save him. But also the situation with the rescue helicopter, which I was afraid they wouldn't let me into, because I didn't formally have any rights to Damian. The doctors with everything headed to his mum.

Did you finally get into that helicopter?

Of course Damian's mum gave her consent, but it was no longer needed. There was no chance to save him.

Will you tell us what happened?

He suffered a heart attack. A few hours earlier we were still talking to each other, as if nothing was going to happen. Only in the morning, when I left for training, he was still asleep, so I didn't wake him up. I knew that when he got up he would make breakfast for the people who were building our house… Sorry, Dawid, it's still difficult to talk about it.

For me, the challenge in this conversation is not to cry myself. Thank you, Andrzej, for talking about all this publicly despite the difficulties. Because grief in LGBT+ relationships is still an almost absent topic in our country.

After all, we really don't want special treatment. It's just about what is due to adult, tax-paying, honest people. My coming out is also a reminder of this.

With it you also break with stereotypes. In the general awareness, an LGBT+ person is associated with the artistic world rather than the sporting world.

It's not worth hiding. Nothing bad happened to me at work when people found out who I was, I didn't experience anything that I could call homophobia in sport. In everyday life there are some offensive messages or comments. But should I care about someone who insults me anonymously from a fictitious account? You know, I think our national openness is much better than, for example, some politicians claim.

According to surveys, Poles are ready for civil unions more than some politicians are convinced. 'The LGBT community cannot expect me to force it or deal with their issues'. - Law and Justice presidential candidate Karol Nawrocki recently stressed.

It makes me want to cry when I hear such words.

We are talking during the Easter season. Did you celebrate this time with Damian somehow?

Yes, we were believers. I believe in God, I'm a Catholic, although it's getting harder and harder when you look at the Church. I go to church sometimes, but much more rarely than I used to. I try not to listen to sermons, because from the altar they can say really nasty things. I go for prayer. Damian and I used to go together.

Did you want to get married?

Damian proposed to me. See, I'm wearing a ring on my finger. We were waiting that maybe something in our country would change one day, we hoped we would live to see better times. We didn't want to go abroad and get married there, when in Poland such a wedding doesn't matter. As for the holidays, I don't generally associate them with the best things. Last Christmas we cried, had Christmas dinner and cried with my mum that Damian was gone.

When you acknowledge how difficult it is to maintain a relationship with the Church today, I am reminded of the words of Paweł Dobrowolski, the current director of Olszyn Jaracz Theatre, also a gay believer, who said in our interview: a Catholic also has his limits.

You could say that today's Church is testing our patience.

Damian had a Catholic funeral?

Yes, as a man of faith he would have wanted such a funeral. He was bid farewell by a good priest, because there are still such priests, after all. I assume that the priest knew very well that Damian and I were more than just friends. He kept looking at me during the funeral.

You could have said goodbye to your loved one. Many LGBT+ people in the current legal situation are sometimes deprived of this opportunity at all, they cannot go to the funeral of their partners, they are forbidden to do so by their formal family.

After my coming out, I got words of support from world-class ski jumping stars like Karl Geiger and Martin Schmitt. They said it could be easier for many people in Poland thanks to me. That's what I think about it too and that's why I'm sharing my lifetime loss with people now.

What are your plans, Andrzej?

I simply have to learn to live again, I just don't know how yet.

[honeydippedfiction]

Episode 4: Crossroads of Speed

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Summary: In Episode 4, Y/N experiences the exhilarating world of F1 as she attends a practice session at the McLaren garage, sparked by an unexpected invitation from Oscar Piastri. While she enjoys the thrill of the track and the camaraderie with Oscar and Lando, her street racing instincts remain strong, reminding her that her true home lies in the raw, unpredictable world of street racing.

WC: 1.9k

Warnings: Street Racing, Injury Risk, Lando Norris (He's a menace), Identity Conflict, Romantic Tension

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

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The streets were alive again, the same familiar hum of engines and electric tension filled the air as I pulled up to the starting line in a borrowed car. Tonight, it wasn’t my usual setup, but my friend had lent me her custom ride—a sleek, black machine that was as fast as it was deadly on the streets. I ran a hand over the hood before slipping inside, the leather interior cool against my skin.

I had just won another race, adrenaline still thrumming through my veins when I slid back into the driver’s seat, letting the engine idle for a moment. The night wasn’t over yet, but as I relaxed in the seat, checking my phone for any updates about the next run, a text came through from an unknown number.

"Hey, it’s Oscar."

I stared at the message, blinking. Oscar? Piastri? I didn't know whether to laugh or be suspicious. Why would he be texting me at this hour, and more importantly, how did he even get my number? My street racing world was supposed to be completely separate from the polished, professional scene of F1, and yet, here he was, reaching out.

I typed back quickly, skeptical.

"Yeah, right. Prove it."

A few moments passed, and then, my phone buzzed again. I swiped to open the message, and there it was—a selfie of Oscar, holding up a peace sign with his other hand as he stood in what looked like his hotel room, still in casual clothes but unmistakably him.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. "Alright, alright. What do you want?" I typed back, a smirk pulling at my lips.

His reply came almost instantly.

"Just thought I’d invite you to watch practice tomorrow. You seemed into the garage tour earlier, and Lando said he saw you again today. Come hang out at McLaren. No pressure."

I leaned back in the seat, chewing my lip. The night was still young, and the streets were calling, but the idea of watching practice in the McLaren garage wasn’t entirely unappealing. Plus, if I was honest, I was curious. But I wasn’t going to let him know that too quickly.

"Maybe," I shot back.

"Great! See you there!"

I shook my head, laughing softly to myself. Bold of him to assume I'd show up. But maybe I would. After all, it couldn’t hurt to check it out—besides, there was always another race.

The next morning, I found myself standing in the McLaren garage, the scent of gasoline and engine oil blending with the high-tech hum of machinery around me. Despite the sleekness of the F1 cars, the precision, there was still something raw about it that I appreciated. The crew was already busy, working to prep the cars for practice. Oscar waved when he spotted me, looking a bit relieved that I had actually shown up.

"Didn’t think you’d make it," he said, a half-smile on his face as he approached.

"I didn’t either," I replied casually, glancing around the garage. "But I figured why not. You gonna show me around, or should I just make myself comfortable?"

Oscar laughed, scratching the back of his neck. "You can make yourself comfortable, but I’ll show you a few things first."

As we started walking, I noticed Lando across the way, leaning against one of the cars, watching us with a curious grin. Before I could react, he made his way over, and I raised an eyebrow, already anticipating some sort of comment.

"You didn’t tell me you were bringing your new friend, Oscar," Lando teased, giving Oscar a playful nudge. "I would’ve dressed up more."

I rolled my eyes. "Don’t flatter yourself, Norris. I’m just here for the cars."

Lando smirked, unfazed. "Well, speaking of cars—" he paused, his tone shifting slightly, "I’ve been thinking about that race you won last night."

My eyes narrowed. "You were there?"

Lando shrugged. "I may have snuck out again."

I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief. "You’ve got a death wish, don’t you?"

"Maybe," Lando said with a grin. "But it was worth it. That race was insane. And I was wondering if you’d let me bring some of the boys to the next one. You know—Max, Charles, Carlos. We’ve all heard about it, but none of us have actually seen it up close."

I crossed my arms, studying him for a moment. "And you think this is some kind of F1 spectator sport?"

Lando raised his hands in mock surrender. "No, no, I get it. It’s your turf. But come on, Y/N, just one night. Let us see what real racing looks like."

Behind him, I noticed Oscar standing there, looking sheepish, like he wasn’t sure if he should be part of this conversation. I glanced between the two of them, weighing my options. The last thing I needed was a bunch of high-profile F1 drivers crashing one of our races, drawing unwanted attention. But at the same time, the idea of watching them squirm outside of their perfect, polished world was tempting.

"I don’t know," I said slowly, giving Lando a once-over. "This isn’t a game, Norris. If you show up, you’re not just a tourist."

"I know," he said earnestly. "But it’d be fun. Just one time. You can even make us sit on the sidelines if you want."

I sighed, my resistance weakening. I shot a glance at Oscar, who quickly chimed in. "We’ll stay out of the way. Promise."

"Fine," I said finally, unable to hide my smirk. "But if you screw this up, don’t think I won’t throw you all out."

Lando’s grin widened, and he clapped Oscar on the back. "You hear that? We’re in."

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. "We’ll see if you’re still excited after you see what real speed looks like."

As I turned back toward the track, Oscar lingered for a moment, giving me a thoughtful look. "Thanks for letting us in," he said quietly, and there was a sincerity in his voice that caught me off guard.

"Don’t thank me yet," I replied, giving him a playful shove. "You still have to survive the night."

I left Lando and Oscar to their scheming and made my way back to the paddock’s observation deck. The buzz of the F1 world had its allure, no doubt, but the roar of street races still called to me. The adrenaline, the risk, the raw challenge of it all—it was something F1 couldn't replicate.

After an hour or so, the practice session was set to begin. The sound of engines revving filled the air as cars zoomed out onto the track, the slick precision of each team’s movements almost mechanical. I found myself leaning on the railing, eyes tracing the blur of orange as Lando and Oscar took to the circuit in their McLarens. They were fast, no doubt about that, but the street in me couldn’t help but wonder how they’d fare in a real race with unpredictable variables.

I chuckled to myself, thinking about Lando’s bold request earlier. It’d be hilarious to see these pros try their luck on my streets, where the margin for error was razor-thin and stakes high. As the McLaren cars zipped by, I noticed one of the crew members standing nearby, talking to another engineer. Curious, I walked over and struck up a conversation.

"So, how different is this from working with street cars?" I asked.

The engineer, a grizzled older man with oil-stained hands, looked at me with a bemused smile. "It’s like comparing night and day. Street racing’s got its own charm, but this—this is science. Precision. No room for error."

I nodded, taking in the intricate details of the telemetry screens and setups in the garage. It was impressive, for sure, but something about the sterile environment lacked the edge I was used to. It was clean. Controlled. Almost too much so.

Just as we were talking, I noticed the garage's atmosphere shift slightly. A camera crew, likely from F1 TV, panned around the McLaren setup. I tried to avoid their gaze, stepping back into the shadows, but it was too late. The camera swung right toward me, and for a second, I was on screen—me, the street racer from the underworld, standing smack in the middle of McLaren’s fancy garage.

Oscar, spotting the camera and noticing my discomfort, threw me an apologetic look from where he was standing. I rolled my eyes. Great, just what I needed—unwanted attention.

As the practice session continued, I got more comfortable, casually chatting with the crew and soaking in the vibe of professional racing. It was nice to watch from the sidelines, and I couldn’t deny the thrill of seeing the McLarens speed through each corner, wheels gripping the track with perfect precision. But it wasn’t enough to make me want to switch lanes—not even close.

After a while, I pulled out my phone, idly scrolling through social media while the practice session wound down. My eyes widened when I saw a flurry of comments popping up, all under the same topic.

"Who’s that girl in the McLaren garage?"

"Lando’s new girlfriend???"

"Anyone know the name of the mystery girl with Oscar?"

I groaned. Of course. F1 fans were fast, no pun intended, and apparently my brief appearance on camera had already sent the internet into a frenzy. I wasn’t exactly a fan of being in the spotlight like this, especially considering the circles I ran in. Keeping a low profile was kind of my thing.

I turned my phone off, shaking my head. I didn’t need this kind of attention right now. Especially not when I was trying to navigate the two very different worlds of F1 and street racing without mixing them up.

As practice wrapped up, Lando and Oscar made their way back to the garage, sweaty but grinning from ear to ear. Lando spotted me immediately, giving me a cheeky wave.

"How’d we look?" he asked, pulling off his helmet and running a hand through his damp hair.

"Not bad," I replied, leaning back against one of the toolboxes. "For a couple of F1 boys, anyway."

Oscar laughed, coming over to join us. "You look like you had fun watching."

"Maybe a little," I admitted. "But don’t get cocky. You still couldn’t handle a real race in the streets."

Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "We’ll see about that. You’ll let me prove you wrong one of these days."

I smirked, but before I could reply, my phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t social media notifications. It was a message from Nadia about another street race coming up. I tucked the phone back into my pocket, mentally calculating how much time I had before I needed to be back on the streets.

Lando and Oscar were still talking about practice, oblivious to the fact that I was already making plans for my next race. They could have their polished world of circuits and pit stops, but I belonged on the streets, where things were messy, raw, and unpredictable.

I crossed my arms, glancing between the two of them as they chatted. "Maybe one day," I said, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "But for now, you boys stick to your world, and I’ll stick to mine."

They laughed, but I knew they were still thinking about what I’d said. They were curious—curious about the world I came from. And part of me wondered how long it’d take before they really tried to cross over. But that was a problem for another day.

For now, I had a race to win.

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[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Give Me Everything You Have

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Please support Cybird by buying their stories. Expect grammatical errors.

Emma: “...........”

(Why...?)

Emma: “...........”

(Why aren’t you saying anything!?)

Emma silently waited for my birthday to come.

Silvio: “What happened to you earlier?”

Emma: “What are you talking about?”

Silvio: “You have this intense gaze like you’re about to pounce on me.”

Emma: “Don’t worry about it.”

Silvio: “Don’t be ridiculous.”

(Damn it, just say it already.)

(You want to celebrate my birthday, don’t you?)

For the past few days, she’d been restless and unable to calm down.

It was evident that she was secretly preparing something for my birthday.

(Just tell me you want my time, and I’ll give it to you.)

Silvio: “By the way, it’s not good for you to stay up so late. It’ll affect your health.”

I thought if I urged her to go to sleep, she would tell me she wanted to celebrate my birthday.

Emma: “I’m an adult. I’ll be fine.”

But she wouldn’t back down.

Silvio: “That’s not an excuse. Should I put you to bed like an adult, then?”

Emma: “No, thank you!”

While we were having such an exchange, the bell rang to tell us that it was midnight.

(Damn it, time's up.)

(Well, whatever. I'll make you regret not asking me directly.)

(You probably have no idea what my birthday is like.)

As expected, the moment midnight arrived, there was a knock on the door.

(These people never get tired of doing this year after year.)

Emma was about to say something but gave up, and I opened the door.

What I saw was a long line of people.

Emma peeked out from behind me and glanced down the hallway, utterly speechless.

Emma: "This is…"

Silvio: "It's always like this on my birthday."

Silvio: "Everyone tries to get my attention, resulting in fierce competition."

(This is such a hassle.)

Birthdays were nothing more than diplomacy and negotiations. Honestly, I wasn't excited about it.

(If only you had asked, I would've brushed all of this aside.)

(There are hardly any people here genuinely celebrating my birthday.)

Naturally, it wasn't always like this.

As the first prince, I have had glamorous birthday parties since I was a child, but their purpose was not for celebration; it was solely to maintain my mother's image.

That damn old man would only attend at first and then leave immediately, making it a laughably insincere birthday.

The number of attendees was small, and everyone celebrated out of obligation rather than genuine joy.

That changed when I gained money.

As my assets increased, more and more people came forward, expressing their desire to celebrate my birthday.

And that was how it evolved to the point where there would be long lines as midnight struck.

But those people, after saying “Happy birthday,” immediately shift the conversation to official duties and business matters.

Even though the number increased, in the end, it was still the same back then.

(But you’re different, Emma.)

(Hurry up and celebrate me.)

Even the next morning, the celebrations continued without interruption. After finishing breakfast and heading out into the city, the situation worsened.

(It’s even worse than last year. Probably because it’s been decided I’ll be the next king.)

There might be some among them genuinely celebrating, but I couldn’t help but be skeptical.

As I walked, trying to navigate the crowd, I suddenly felt someone firmly grabbing my arm.

It was Emma, desperately clinging to me, determined not to let go.

(Why are you so adorable like that?)

(Or not.)

Silvio: “You...!”

Emma: “If I don’t do this, we’ll get separated!”

Silvio: “Don’t do such things in public.”

Emma: “I was just holding onto your arm!”

Silvio: “That’s exactly the problem. “

Silvio: “Even though so many people are watching today, you’re too cute that I can’t keep a straight face.”

Emma: “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you!”

Silvio: “Ah, is that so? Then I won’t say it again!”

(Damn it. There’s no way I can spend the day as usual.)

(If you’re that desperately clinging to me like this, I’ll give you another chance.)

Using the knights to shake off the people, we managed to enter an alleyway.

Finally, we had a moment alone together.

Silvio: “Those guys should tone it down a bit.”

(How I behave depends on how this girl will act...)

(What's with this sad face?)

Contrary to my expectations, her face was filled with signs of worry.

(Where did that spirited attitude from midnight go?)

Her determination to celebrate seemed to have long disappeared. Instead of displaying virtues like modesty or consideration, she appeared to be consumed by negative emotions, despite her audacious nature.

Emma: “Prince Silvio...”

(I’m pissed. Damn it.)

(Why do you look so resigned?)

I grabbed her chin in frustration and kissed her.

Emma: “What are you...”

Silvio: “You just made a face like you’ve had enough.”

Emma: “Huh?”

Her eyes widened.

Silvio: “You should come at me more seriously.”

Emma: “What do you mean...?”

Silvio: “*sigh* You wanted to greet me, right?”

(How could I not notice this, you idiot?)

Silvio: “Then don’t give up until you give me everything you got.”

(No need to be modest.)

(So reconsider.)

I messed up her hair and turned my back.

I returned to my official duties, suppressing the urge to take her away immediately.

Nokto: "Hmm, you seem a bit grumpy this year."

Silvio: "You can tell?"

A party was being held in the dance hall as my birthday reached its final stages.

Since entry was only allowed with an invitation, familiar faces, including that fox-faced Rhodolite, were here.

Nokto: “Do you want me to guess?”

Silvio: “No need.”

Nokto: “If you want to be with Emma, you should just say it honestly.”

Silvio: “Shut up.”

(He’s sharp in these situations, and I don’t like it.)

Nokto: “But if you continue like this, your birthday will be over.”

He looked over at Emma, who had a thoughtful expression on her face.

Silvio: “It’d be more worth it if she willingly asked me herself.”

Nokto: “Why?”

Silvio: “Why do I have to explain it to you?”

(Purely because it makes me feel good.)

(And it’ll show that she really wants to celebrate with me.)

Although I didn’t put it into words, Nokto seemed to have sensed something and shrugged his shoulders in exasperation before leaving.

Immediately after this, an incident occurred.

Silvio: “What are you thinking, you idiot!?”

As soon as I returned to the room with Emma in my arms, those words slipped out uncontrollably.

Emma: "I told you it was a gift!"

Emma: "God, you're so shy!"

Silvio: "Who are you saying that to, you damn woman?"

(I was waiting for you to ask me to give you my time, but you chose that method.)

(And even did it boldly in front of so many people.)

(That...)

Just remembering that embarrassing incident made me blush and feel overwhelmed.

(No, I can forgive "that", but not after what happened after that.)

Emma: "If I did that in public, I knew you would react this way."

Silvio: "You...!"

Emma: "Are you mad at me?"

Silvio: "Of course not. I'm just..."

(Aren't you aware?)

I gently placed Emma down in front of the mirror.

Even though she was confidently and cheekily saying those things, she seemed to have finally noticed that her face was completely flushed.

Silvio: "Don't make that kind of face in public. It's making me want to pounce on you."

(This face is something only I should see.)

Emma: "I-I'm sorry."

Silvio: ".........."

Emma: "........"

We gaze at each other through the mirror.

(Basically, you're late.)

(If you're going to take me out like that, you should have done it in the morning.)

As the silence dragged on, her expression became increasingly uneasy.

Despite her usual cheeky demeanor, she couldn't fully maintain an arrogant attitude, which caused me to burst out laughing.

Silvio: "Alright, alright, I give up. Sorry for teasing you."

Silvio: "From now on, I'll give you all my attention."

Emma: "Really? But you still have guests."

Silvio: "You're more important than any guest."

Silvio: "Besides, I'm sure everyone took the hint."

Emma: "Prince Silvio, aren't you tired?"

Silvio: "I'm not tired, so bring me the cake already."

Emma: "Why would there be a cake?"

Silvio: "There's no way you wouldn't get me one for my birthday."

(To be honest, I've never eaten a birthday cake before.)

While there was usually food at my birthday parties, a cake has never been brought out.

Just like in Rhodolite, there was a tradition here in Benitoite to celebrate with a cake, but the fact that no one really celebrates it wholeheartedly became evident in situations like this.

(Though that fucking dog has one every year.)

Silvio: "I'm hungry, so hurry up and feed me."

Emma: "Is that the reason you didn't eat much?"

Silvio: "It'd bother me if I couldn't eat your food."

(You don't need to pay attention to that little detail.)

Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, I sat down on the sofa and leaned back.

Surprisingly, Emma's cheeky smile shone brilliantly.

Emma: "I suppose I have no choice. Today, I'll spoon-feed you."

Silvio: "*sigh* Is that all? It's not enough, you know?"

Emma: "What? Do you want me to feed you mouth-to-mouth?"

Silvio: "Why did you think of something like that? Well, maybe it's not a bad idea."

Emma: "It's a bad idea!"

Silvio: "Don't you dare challenge the birthday boy."

(I'm beyond help since everything you say and do looks cute.)

Despite being exasperated, I gestured for her to come closer.

Without hesitation, she approached me, and I grabbed her hand and pulled her into an embrace.

Silvio: "I told you earlier to give me everything you got."

Emma: “Ah...”

(I've been feeling impatient today, so a cake and a present won't be enough to satisfy me.)

Silvio: “Just so you know, I won’t let you sleep until you’ve completely celebrated with me.”

I teasingly stroked her back, and she responded with a nod.

Emma: “All right. As you wish.”

(No take-backs.)

(I ain't holding back, so prepare yourself.)

Afterward, I got excited over my first-ever birthday cake and the handmade embroidered amulet bag she had given as a gift.

I thoroughly enjoyed my birthday, which was usually nothing but a hassle.

As for the extent of that enjoyment一

Emma: “I can’t believe it.”

Silvio: “Ha?”

Emma: “Isn’t it already morning?”

Silvio: “Yeah.”

She hadn't moved an inch since earlier.

It was probably because of the fatigue and the slick wetness between her legs that was preventing her body from moving.

(I didn't plan on holding her until morning.)

Contrary to my thoughts, I reached out from behind and touched her legs.

Even though I devoured her so much last night, the insides of my chest were still screaming that it wasn't enough.

Emma: "Your birthday is over."

Silvio: "It's not over until I say it's over."

(It's not really like me not to want my birthday to end.)

Just when I thought she might be surprised, I heard her soft laughter.

(I feel like she can see through everything.)

As if to express my discomfort, I buried my face in her neck, and her sweet voice further stirred me up.

Silvio: "I tasted a lot of you last night, but you're still so sweet."

Emma: "Prince Silvio..."

It looked like she was reaching her limit as she showed signs of wanting to escape.

I put my hand on her head and blocked her movement, not intending to let her run away.

Silvio: "I won't stop."

Silvio: "This gift belongs to me, and I won't let you take it away. If you understand, get ready to be loved."

Emma: "I don't want to."

Silvio: "Ha?"

Emma: "Because it's your birthday."

Silvio: "So what?"

Emma: "In other words..."

Emma: "It's you who should be loved."

(………)

Emma turned around and surprised me by kissing my lips.

She was usually shy and only gave peck-like kisses, but today, perhaps due to her lack of shame, she actively intertwined her tongue with mine.

Silvio: "You've become quite the erotic kisser, huh?"

Emma: "Whose fault do you think that is?"

(Is it because of me?)

I found myself laughing again at her blushing expression.

(Receiving birthday wishes from someone feels so good. I never knew it could make me this happy.)

(I wish this feeling could last forever. I’m already looking forward to next year.)

I’d realized for the first time how different it feels to be celebrated out of obligation compared to being genuinely celebrated from the heart.

No gift could match the emotions she had given me.

Emma: “I might just kidnap you next year.”

Silvio: “*sigh* I’ll make a special exception and allow it.”

Emma: “Don’t regret those words later, okay?”

(There's no way I'm going to do that.)

(Even if I receive anything else in the future, there's no treasure greater than you.)

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ His POV

[mizuki-foreshadowing]

What Lies Beyond Guiding a Lost Child, Episode 5

This is where Mafuyu gets her panic attack and never takes the practice exam. She flashes back to Ena's words arguing that Mafuyu herself already understands that her mom doesn't actually want what's best for her. Mafuyu is taking the practice exam because it would make her mom happy, but is starting to realize that her mom is very careful about what she says will and will not make her happy, and they don't align with what will make Mafuyu happy, Mafuyu telling her what will, falling on deaf ears.

Mizuki helps walk Mafuyu through Mizuki's tried and true response to complicated emotions with no easy way out, to not worry about it and distract herself to not feel so bad.

Mafuyu doesn't want to take the exam but hurries herself to the exam area, saying 'I have to go...' (行かなきゃ). She says the exact same thing after Mizuki's text interrupts her spiral after the text her mom had sent about expecting good results today. Mizuki's text reassures Mafuyu that everyone is at PXL and will be there still if Mafuyu finds she has time. Immediately after Mafuyu repeats that same line, we cut to her arriving at PXL, the screen completely dark.

I was hoping that the line Mafuyu says mirrors the line we hear Kanade say at her own low point, translated as 'I have to compose...' (続けなくちゃ) but the conjugations are too different for me to be able to draw that connection, and I don't know enough about Japanese to be able to comment.

But, the same line being spoken both times does act to put it on equal footing, Mafuyu having to take the practice exam and Mafuyu having to take care of herself and see her friends.

Mizuki and Ena jump to opposite conclusions about what it means for Mafuyu to be at Phoenix Wonderland when she ought to be taking her practice exam. Despite being the problem-runner herself, Mizuki thinks Mafuyu didn't attend for a more Mafuyu-like reason; the exam being rescheduled, while Ena asks if Mafuyu's skipping to come here.

If it were Mizuki asking if Mafuyu were skipping instead, I feel like she'd feel too guilty for putting the idea in her head or something, but a part of me also thinks Mizuki sees herself as more cowardly than Mafuyu, that Mafuyu faces her pain despite how badly it hurts her, because she has to in order for Kanade to ever save her. Mizuki says about as much to her in Mafuyu: The Staff of Guidance; Part 2. It's Mizuki's ideal of Mafuyu that wouldn't skip the exam.

Ena getting it right is a little harder for me to place. While Ena is a jealous person, I'm not sure if she's still jealous of Mafuyu; the illusion of Mafuyu being perfectly capable and talented is fully dispelled this far into the story, all her talent for music and academics offset in Ena's mind by problems Ena seems to think Mafuyu should be able to see the solutions for. I think it may actually come from a place of Ena being relieved to see Mafuyu on equal footing to her rather than being able to pretend she can simply endure anything. Mafuyu being able to break might validate Ena for not being any lesser for herself breaking, like she had in Blank Canvas, relatively recent to this event.

Mafuyu can't articulate how she feels right now, and Mizuki jumps in to tell Mafuyu that there's no pressure on her to have to do so. Mafuyu needs a distraction, and Mizuki understands that need very well, herself.

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

Another Place, Another Time (Final)

MarcXFem!Reader (Jake and Steven in headspace)

Summary: After a week of staging, planning and pestering, you finally get to meet Marc. How hard could this be?

CW: Marc being distant, arguing/ yelling, Accidental triggering, swearing, bad Chicagoan accents, almost definitely railroad sentences, mention of Wendy, allusions to trauma

A/N: Thank you for anyone who had read, liked and reblogged my first fic series. It has meant the world to me and I hope ya’ll enjoy! There is also two lil translated phrases at the bottom!

Steven is Orange

Marc is green

Jake is Red

~~~~~~~~~

You find yourself pacing anxiously from the living room to the kitchen and back. If you aren’t careful, you’ll wear a hole in the floor. “Why is this so hard? The hell am I so nervous for?” Mumbling nervously, you check the text messages between yourself and “the gang”. Rereading the messages between Jake, Steven and yourself does little to soothe the creeping anxiety. Your phone vibrates suddenly, startling you as a message comes thru.

“ETA 5 minutes

-J”

“fuck…fuck!. Okay calm down. This is fine. We planned for this. Just breathe.” You know Jake is being kind by giving you a heads up but it only makes it worse, damn him and his consideration. You spend the next five minutes sitting on the couch, bouncing your leg. Exactly 5 minutes later, there is a sharp knock. You take a deep breath and walk over to the door, take another deep breath and open it. In front of you is a familiar form but a vastly unfamiliar vibe. The squared shoulders, slick-back hair and a stony face. Tension radiates off him like Jake, but it feels more intense, almost stifling. This man is like a mausoleum: imposing, guarded and full of secrets.

Smiling, you open the door wider to let him in, “Hi Marc! I’m happy I finally get to meet you. Shoes off at the door please and make yourself comfy.”

He walks in, toes his shoes off, and lines them neatly at the baseboard by the door. “Pleasure to meet you Y/N, thank you.”

“Of course, have a seat. Would you like anything to drink?”

“Just water”

“Comin’ right up.” You return with two glasses of water, handing him one before sitting on the other couch. What are you supposed to say? You aren’t supposed to ask about his past, you know that but you don’t know where to start. Asking about the weather seems so dumb. Jake told you he likes the Cubs but you don’t know anything about sportball?! Why is talking to Marc so much harder than talking to the strangers at the diner??

Marc clears his throat, “Thank you for the water.”

“I have an idea!”, you exclaim suddenly, causing Marc to raise an eyebrow.

“Ok I was thinking we do something together. Let’s go. C’mon!” You stand up and head to the kitchen, turning around to see Marc standing awkwardly.

“Marc? You okay?”

Marc shakes his head a bit before turning towards you, “I’m comin Y/N”

“Marc you sure you’re –

“I’m fine. What plan do you have for us?” he asks. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, is he already annoyed with you?

“I thought we could bake a cake together.” You reply smiling.

“Bake a cake…with you?”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing. It’ll be fun and we’ll have something good to eat afterwards.”

“I don’t bake.” Marc replies flatly.

​Really hermano? That’s your response.

​Marc, at least give it a chance.

You look at Marc blankly for a moment. Alright, you hadn’t considered that answer. “Ooookay well, why don’t we try then? It can be a learning experience.” You reply, looking around for an apron.

Say yes marc, Y/N’s trying her best.

​Steven’s right, you should at least try.

I don’t need either of you chiming in. I’m here aren’t I?

​Don’t make it sound like such a chore, Marc.

“So I have all the ingredients and a recipe so it shouldn’t be too bad” You explain, while handing him an apron. Sighing, he ties it behind himself.

“You don’t need a recipe. You just throw stuff in a bowl, bake it and then done. How hard can it be Y/N.”

You chuckle softly gathering the dry ingredients, bowls, and utensils. “You would think but you have much to learn my friend! Baking is more of a science and then you can play around with the flavors and such.”

Marc opens his mouth to offer a rebuttal but closes it before looking over your shoulder at the recipe.

​“Why are there so many steps? The first 3 steps could just be 1 step.”​

​“They just aren’t. Breaking it down is easier to make sure we don’t get confused or make mistakes. Could you put the dry ingredients in a bowl by the recipe? Please and thank you.” You reply, trying to keep any frustration out of your voice. You begin cleaning and chopping strawberries as you hear soft grumbling and swears.

​“Steven, I know how to-. Jake shut the hell up.” You turn around to see Marc hunched over the bowl, jaw clenched. Okay, so, calm fun baking time was not going as planned.

​“Marc, do you want to swap and do the strawberries and I’ll do that?”

​“No! no, It’s just throwing powders and stuff in a bowl and stirring. I can handle that.”

​You take a deep breath to try not to snap back, “I know you are capable of doing it. I was just offering to help. If you want it to come out right, you have to follow the recipe. If not, we can swap.”

​Mate, just listen to her. Y/N knows what she is talking about.

​If she bakes half as she cooks, I would listen to her hermano.

“Marc? Im not trying to be a dick but would you please just listen-”

“I said I got it” he grits out.

You feel your chest tighten in irritation, the simmering frustration turning into genuine anger. “Fine, but if the cake is messed up. It’s your fault”, You retort flatly before you resume chopping strawberries.

Mierda…

You don’t see Marc’s body stiffen. Don’t see his chest start to heave or his fists curl so tight the knuckles have gone bone white.

Marc…Marc she didn’t mean it like that. She didn’t know..

“Fuck it! Forget this whole thing!” Marc shouts, cutting the tension in the kitchen like a razor. Whipping your head around, you see him, red faced fists clenched at his side. You frown. “What is your problem Spector?”

He snatches the apron off and takes a step towards you, “Forget. This. I told them I didn’t need to meet ya, but I agreed to anyways. Ya want to bake a fuckin’ cake like with Steven but I’m. Not. Him! You and I aren’t friends Y/N!”

The anger churning inside you reaches a rolling boil. You slam the knife down on the cutting board and round on him. “No. You’re absolutely right. We aren’t friends. But that’s only because you make it so fuckin’ difficult to get to know you, to try and care about you. You’re buttoned up so goddamn tight you make it impossible!”

“Why does it matter to ya! You have ya friends. Y’have Steven and Jake. Why are ya trying so hard to-

“Because I want to be your friend too!” You shout back, cutting him off. “If your life was as bad as the boys have told me and half as bad I remember hearing it through the walls. You deserve to have someone care about you! I want to care about you too goddamnit!” Marc stares at you blankly. It is a silent standoff between you and Marc, save for the sound of you two breathing.

​“What?” Marc asks softly.

​“What part didn’t you hear?” You fire back, the adrenaline coursing through you leaving you poised to lash out again.

​“What did you just say? Why did you say that?”

​“I said you’re a fuckin grump”, You retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

​Marc shakes his head, “Not that part, the other part.”

​You blink a few times, what the hell is he playing at? “I’m trying to get to know you but you make it impossible?” you repeat, uncertainty dousing the fire in your chest.

​Marc shakes his head again, “No the...the friend…part.”

​You open your mouth to spit back a response, but you notice the genuine confusion on Marc’s face. His hands are still in fists but he’s trembling. His eyes are searching your face for an answer to a question he’s never ventured to ask. You realize Marc really doesn’t understand why you’re putting in the effort. To him, you are Steven’s friends. You’re Jake’s friend. Not his, never his friend. You remember conversations with Steven and Jake about some of Wendy’s “bad days”, about the self-loathing, the guilt, the shame. You realize that despite knowing Steven since you were children, and knowing Jake for over a year, this is your first time meeting Marc.

“Fuck…Marc…” You sigh, arms dropping to your sides. “I…lemme start over. First, I want to apologize. You were being an ass, but I had no right to yell just now. Especially when I’m trying to get to know you. That was unfair of me and I’m sorry. Second, I’m trying to be your friend because I care about you. I care about all of you. I want to learn about you the way I did with Jake and the way I did with Steven. You are your own person and you deserve to be treated with the same care as all my friends.” Marc continues to stare at you with an unreadable expression.

​¿Estás bien?

​​Mate, you…you’re awfully quiet

“I-I’ll cut the strawberries. We can swap.” Marc replies in a voice much softer than you expect, his shoulder relaxing slightly. You smile at him, hoping to turn this day around. “Why don’t we do that together after the cakes are in the oven, alright?”

Marc nods, looking between you and the bowl nervously, “I don’t remember what I put in the bowl earlier.” You go to wave your hand dismissively but decide that sudden movements would be a bad idea. You slowly grab the apron and hand it back to him. “We’ll figure it out together”. You walk over to the counter leaving some space for Marc as you two go over how far he has gotten in the recipe. Occasionally you ask if he can remember how much and try to adjust accordingly.

​“Alright Spector, next we have to-“

​“Marc. I used to be in the military.” He pauses, “My CO only used last names and I just…I can’t. Just call me Marc. Please?” Marc explains, hoping that you don’t ask any further questions.

​You nod and continue, “Alright Marc, how are you with crackin’ eggs? I need you to put on in the mix.” Marc takes an egg and cracks it into the bowl one handed. Your sudden applause catches him off guard. “Why are you doing that?”

“Cause that’s cool as hell! I still crack eggs with two hands, even after baking all this time. Don’t tell the others, I think they’d make fun of me.” You laugh before mixing the batter and pouring it into two pans. March snorts softly, “Sure, yea your secret is safe with me Y/N.”

You begin to clean some of the counter space while the cakes are in the oven. “Okay Marc, you’re on choppin’ duty for the berries. Have at it.” Marc nods and makes his way to the abandoned strawberry station. Wiping his hands on the apron, he begins to chop them similar to the ones you previously done.

​Soooo…how’s it going mate?

​It’s fine…I guess. Better now than earlier.

​You just had to giv’er a chance.

​Both of them needed time Steven

​Sorry ‘bout us prattlin’ on earlier Marc. We didn’t mean to overwhelm you

​Stevens right, we should’ve just let you two talk without butting it. Lo siento

​We can talk about it more later. I just…Thank you though, for “Shit!”

“Marc what happened?” You turn to see him holding his bleeding finger.

“it’s nothing Y/N. I’m fine” He tries to reassure you but you’re already by his side, gently tugging him to the sink and running the finger under cool water.

“I leave you alone for 10 seconds and you’ve nicked your finger. How am I s’possed to let you loose in the kitchen?” You fuss over his superficial injury as you clean it and bandage it. Marc stares at you baffled. No one fusses over him, no one tends to his injuries except for himself. It’s just a scratch why are you making such a…Oh, right.

“Okay, scratch that, you’re off knife duty. Can you work a mixer Marc?”

“Y/N it wasn’t that big a deal, I can cut the strawberries-“

“aht aht! No bleedin’ in this kitchen. You’re on whipped cream duty.” You smile widely at him.

“But-“

“If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, we’d all have a Merry Christmas, now go. The mixer calls you” Marc stands there baffled.

Good to know we’ve all had at least one weird interaction with Y/N, ey lads? Marc, might as well head to the mixer, she’s made up her mind.

You explain the ingredients to make whipped cream and how to work the mixer to Marc, who dutifully nods along with your explanation. You head to finish chopping strawberries and hear the steady hum of the mixer behind you. Smiling to yourself, you add a little lemon and sugar to the bowl of berries.

After the cakes have been pulled from the oven and cooled you and Marc layer the cake, whipped cream and strawberries.

​“Marc…Marc lean in”

​“Y/N what are you doin’?”

​You whip out your phone and snap a few selfies. “For the new album! It’s your first cake so we need to document it!”

He smiles, turning to look at the cake. But his eyes catch the recipe. The cake you two have made looks nothing like the picture. The cakes themselves are uneven, the whipped cream doesn’t look as smooth, the berries haphazardly placed. Marc’s heart seizes in his chest. All he can hear is Wendy’s voice berating him. Screaming that it’s his fault the cake came out wrong. You don’t notice at first, happily looking at the photos when you hear Marc’s breathing get heavier. Looking up, you glance between him and the cake a few times before standing next to him.

“Not bad for your first cake Marc. I can’t wait to eat it.” You hold a knife in your hand, “Would you do me the honors and cut me a slice?” Marc looks at you surprised; aren’t you mad at him? Don’t you hate him for ruining the cake? Studying your face, he sees nothing but warmth and compassion as you wait patiently for a response. “I uh, sure yea” He takes a few steadying breaths before cutting a slice for you and himself. You smile as you take your plate and two forks to the living room. Marc stands stock still before he feels his legs move beneath him.

Marc! Cake time!

​Right, yea sorry.

Marc follows behind you and sits next to you on the couch. You hand him a fork before gathering some cake of your own. You hold it up to him. “Cheers!” He gathers some cake on his fork and gently taps his fork against yours, “Cheers Y/N”. You take a few bits of the cake, before looking at him. “So…Let’s hear your thoughts, Marc. How is it?” He chews thoughtfully, “the strawberries are nice.” You laugh loudly, “Marc! C’mon. How’s your first cake?”

“I don’t think it’s s’possed to be this salty or thick.” He says softly, poking it with his fork. “Yea well, we went off script a bit. S’alright though, next cake will be better!” You reassure him, continuing to eat your slice, “besides, you did an incredible job with the whipped cream.”

“I’m sorry Y/N. For ruining the first day of the day”

“Marc, it’s alright I-“

“No, it’s not alright. You…You were trying to get to know me. You put in a lot of effort to include me, but Jake and Steven were in my ear carryin’ on and I’ve never baked before let alone with someone else.That’s not an excuse though. I didn’t give you a chance, I yelled at you. I backed you into the corner of the kitchen. You didn’t deserve that and I apologize.” Marc looks at you, shoulders slumped, “Im sorry Y/N.”

You set down your plate and extend your hand, smiling, “We can always try again Marc. Shake on it?” Marc smiles and you pretend to not notice when he wipes his eyes before shaking your hand. “You’ve got ya’self a deal.” You chuckle, “I don’t know if you noticed but when you get upset your accent is thicker. All youse guys do it.”

“It does not.”

“Does too!”

“Says the person who just said ‘youse guys’”

You squint your eyes, “You’ve won this round Marc. Oh! Before I forget. Stay here, I have something for you.”

“Y/N…No you don’t have to-“

“Too late” you call from your bedroom. Marc sits suddenly nervous, until you come back into the living room, arms behind your back.

​“Okay so I worked with Steven to do this. He told me how upset you were about Sir Rosser and I didn’t get it at first but then Jake explained it a bit more to me and so-” You pull a small patchwork bunny in his favorite color from behind your back, holding it out to Marc. “I got you your own. Now you don’t have to share. If you even still have the old one. Would you even want a stuffed animal? Fuck, I didn’t think about it til just now. Maybe I should’ve asked first” you ramble nervously before you realize Marc hasn’t said anything, he hasn’t even moved.

“Marc? could you at least say something? Anything? The silence is killing me”

Marc looks up at you with misty eyes before reaching for the stuffed animal with shaking hands “you…got me my own rabbit?”

You smile, relief flooding your system, “Course I did!”. You pull a ruler from behind your back with the other hand, “And when you name it, I’m going to knight him like I did Sir Rosser. I am still the lady of the land.” Marc looks between you and the rabbit before laughing, brightly for the first time in longer than any of the boys can remember.

​You were right Steven, Y/N’s a good friend to have.

​Marc is right, I guess we have you to thank for this.

​I’m glad you lads get it. Now since we’re talking about my good ideas, I have a few others suggestions

​no echarse flores Steven

​

Epilogue

You and Marc are sitting on the couch, the plates of cake long forgotten on the table. You’re chatting about random facts you’ve been itchin’ to share when his head snaps to one side, as though listening for something.

“Y/N, did you hear that?”

“Yea, it’s my voice...we’re talking.”

“No not…the snapping noise. Like a crack”, He looks back at you. “You didn’t hear it?” you shrug, unsure of what he’s talking about.

Sorry mate, that was us. Didn’t mean to startle ya.

What do you mean “that was us”

Steven and I high-fived no te preocupes. Keep talking with Y/N.

“Hellooo Marc. I said did you figure out what it was?” You call from beside him. Marc sighs, turning back to you. “Yea it’s fine. Keep going. you were telling me something about eggs?” You smile and continue your impassioned rant about how a chef’s hat has 100 pleats and that each pleat represents 1 way to cook an egg. Marc smiles, holding his rabbit in his lap.

I could get used to this.

~~Translation~~

no echarse flores- Don’t flatter yourself

no te preocupes- Don’t worry

[gullableh]

•★  SICK🌌🪐

JULIAN. LOKI X MALE! READER.

★•° Warnings : boy x boy, cringe, very fluffy,

Swear words, fruity af.  Crack treated, like seriously crack treated

Reader is a simp.

Highschool AU

(I'm not good in french even though I got a 9-

I will use Google Translate mostly. So if youre reading this and you're french, im sorry if i made a mistake or two, you can correct me if I'm wrong ^^)

★•° summery :reader and Julian supposedly had a date. But sadly reader got sick and couldn't come. So Julian decided to pay his lovely boyfriend a quick visit, just a quick one...

★•° a fluff story so no dirty thoughts.

• usage of pet names

• relationship goals

• probably ooc since I'm not the best in   writing oc 

Music you could listen to while reading:

------------------°•©

Écoute chérie; 

Vendredi sur Mer

              The moon will sing;

                                           Angus & Julia stone 

Back to the old house;

The Smiths                     

              Lamp;

                                                     Yume Utsutsu

                

                                (Enjoy ^v^)

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

Readers pov:

*Sigh*

This. Was. The. Worst. Oh you wanna know what happened? Oh well you probably already had read the summery, you still want me to tell? Okay sit down and listen carefully. Also next time read the summery some people aren't as generous as me to explain why my day is ruined. And the people who have read the summery. Good job here have a cupcake *gives the cupcake to you* ^v^

Anyways where was i? Oh yeah, listen carefully...

It was any normal day, I woke up went to school met up with my lovely boyfriend🥰

And I remembered after school we have a date, great right? Well I'm not finished.

After school I went ahead to go home and get prepared for my date with my boyfriend. 

I got home, had an outfit ready, and I was about to go when suddenly.

*Chough* *Chough*

I have no idea if mothers have mother senses (it would be cool if they did) but as if she had a spidersense of her own she grabbed my arm, shut the door and made me sit on the couch.

Then she went on a full on ten minute long lecture about how I was sick and that I should stay home. Wait stay home? But I was about to go on a date. Mother couldn't possibly do this to me, oh but she could.

Well anyways, now I'm here in my room, in my bed all depressed because I couldn't hang out with my boyfriend )': I had already told him, well, texted him that I wasn't able to attend our date since I was SiCk. Oh please, as if I would die.

I was moping in my bed all pouty, from disappointment because I couldn't see my boyfriend, but also from pain. (stupid migraine) It was I think around somewhere in the night, after dinner. when I heard something. I stopped moping and listened carefully where that sound came from

*Tick* *tick* *tick*

It was as if someone was knocking against glass, again I stayed quiet and listened attentively

*Tick* *tick* *tick*

Wait it sounded like it came from my window. I got up from my bed, fear slowly creeping up, I went to my bedroom window, and shoved the curtens to the side slowly, and then i saw....

Third person pov:

There he was, Julian Loki Infront of your window, the best soccer player in your school, also one of the kindest people in your school. And most importantly, your lovely boyfriend that you where thinking about the entire day.

A smile made its way to youre lips, but confusion was visible on [readers] face. What was he doing here, it's somewhere between eleven o' clock and twelve o' clock, shouldn't he be home alseep? Worry was also evident on the boys expressions. [Reader] quickly opened the window and let him in.

"Julian what are you doing here?"

"Mon chéri, sorry I wanted to come here earlier but my mother wouldn't let me out of the house."

He said with a sweet and gentle smile towards you. You see why I'm so smitten over this guy? 

Julian is always so sweet and gentle, he's like that towards everyone, but towards you he is even more gentle.

"Speaking of, why are you up so late?

You said you where sick, you should be resting Mon amour."

He said, he spoke with such a gentle tone, it was angelic, he was an angel that's why. He ushered you to bed like a mother would to their child. And you being such a simp for you're boyfriend, obliged and laid down on you're bed. Oh yeah did I tell you that he had a bag with him, well he laid the bag on the ground and started to rummage trough the supplies in the bag. He grabbed what seemed like medicine and food, that could help [reader] with his sickness.

"I also might have paid a quick visit at the infirmary."

He said with a smile that could blind you because of how bright it was. He grabbed a container with some liquid stuff, probably soup.

"Have you already eaten? It would be great if you did, but that would mean I bought this for nothing"

He said with yet again, another blinding smile.

Because of the stupid migraine and the fact that the sickness made you not hungry, you nodded you're head a no. You where indeed hungry but because of the sickness, you felt like throwing up everytime you're nostrils smelled the slightest bit of food.

"I'm not hungry, thank you Julian but there was indeed no need"

That was a big ass lie, and the both of you knew that all to well, he looked at you with a worried expression, yeah there was no way that he didn't know I was lying

"Mon chéri please tell me the truth"

Yup, now I feel guilty about lying yippie :'D

I took a deep breath and told him the truth, that shows how much of a sucker I am for this man. He again looked at me with a worried expression on his face.

"très chère chérie, if you want to get better you should eat healthy things, i don't like seeing you sick and in pain."

He gave me a sweet smile, but behind that smile was clear that he was still very worried.

I smiled at him back with as much gentleness.

"Im sorry Julian, I didn't exactly mean to lie, it just kinda slipped-"

"It's all right Mon amour, just please don't lie to me like that again."

He cut me off before I could even properly apologize, I smiled at seeing his gentle smile reapearing on his lips again. He grabbed the container with the liquid stuff in it, he opened the container and low and behold chicken soup. He grabbed the plastic spoon that was in the container with the soup.

"Open you're mouth mon chéri I'll feed you."

He said with a smile as if he didn't say the most flustering thing, I felt my face heat up specifically my cheekbones. The spoon with the chicken soup was right Infront of you're mouth, slowly you opened you're mouth a bit, until it was wide enough for the spoon to fit, for some reason this felt so embarrassing even if there weren't any people around, it was just so embarrassing being fed by someone. A while later and the soup was finished, you felt a bit better now that you weren't hungry anymore, but the migraine was still haunting you. Luckily you're savior in need is here to help you from you're misery.

Julian again rummaged trough his bag that he had brought along with him, he let out a small 'aha' as if to say that he had found something. He brought the thing out of the bag and let me have a closer look, it was painkillers, he really though of everything.

"I've brought some painkillers."

He wouldn't stop smiling, as I said such a sweet angel. He gave you the painkiller and abit of water to drink with, in one swift motion you chugged the painkillers with the water down in one sip. The painkillers where helping a bit but not as much as to make it completely go away.

"My head still hurts"

"Would you like me to massage you're scalp Mon amour?"

Definitely did not expect him to suggest that, but who would say no to that offer? So you nodded youre head with a smile and gestured for him to sit next to you on the bed, I patted the empty place beside me, he made his way towards me and then sat next to me on the bed. He laid my head down on his chest, so that he could carefully massage my scalp while I was in a comfortable position. My head was laying on the side where his heart was, his heart beats where so soothing I could just fall asleep. Not long after did his hands began to gently massage my head, all of this was so very calming I could already feel myself geting tired and sleepy slowly and slowly.

"Is this alright mon chéri? If you're uncomfortable just tell me alright?"

I was already half asleep so I just let out a small 'hmm' so that he would know that I was still listening to him. He laughed at my tired state, he looked so adorable while laughing.

"Goodnight mon vie"

He said before giving youre lips a small peck. Not caring if he would get sick later, all he cared for now was that you where comfortable and safe. The rest didn't matter all that matter to him was you. 

Fin:D

★°•BONUS+

THE NEXT DAY

 you woke up from a very nice dream, you felt much much better after last night, guess Julian took very good care of you. you expected to wake up in you're own bed wich you did, but you specifically woke up in someone's arms, Julian's arms. he was still sleeping, so the ever so kind boyfriend you are, you let him have his rest and sleep. And seems like he had it enough because not even a minute after you woke up, was he starting to wake up. His eyelids slowly lifted up, revealing his golden brown eyes. They look so beautiful in the morning. He looked at you before a smile was forming on his lips, how cute this moment was. 

"Morning mon soleil"

Two boys waking up from eachothers arms, oh how adorabl-

*Chough* *chough* *chough*     

That was not me I swear. Oh it was julian, seem like he got invected when he kissed you goodnight last night....

Well then, atleast now you could repay him back with taking care of him this time.

Fin (fr this time)

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

This was so crack treated and cringe, I apologize if you felt second hand embarrassment-

[ramshacklefey]

Teaching Intro to Philosophy and Intro to Ethics is so damn frustrating, because like. Ok, what do you want here? This is like calling a class "Intro to Religion" or "Intro to Literature."

It's just impossible, absolutely impossible, to give an introductory course on something that has existed for thousands of years, across almost every culture on the globe, who use such wildly different methodologies and standards for exploring ideas that a lot of them wouldn't even recognize what the others are doing as the same thing! And that isn't even getting into the fact that most of these texts are only going to be accessible to students in translation and require an intimate knowledge of the history and culture of the places they were written in order to be understood. (Anyone who tries to tell you that philosophy is "universally understandable" is lying to you.)

I mean, for fuck's sake, even if I stick to the incredibly narrow slice of "philosophy that can be traced conversationally through the European Subcontinent by looking at which authors were responding to whom over time," it's impossible! Platonic dialogues require a completely different set of tools to understand than Medieval European writing (of which 90 percent is basically Christian theology), which has a very different style and approach again from Renaissance/Enlightenment philosophy, which is again wildly different from any sort of contemporary work.

Narrowing it down further to just English-language philosophy helps a little bit because it takes out the translation problem, but it's still impossible. We're talking about 300 years (at least) of work which requires a lot of historical context to interpret with any accuracy. For instance, you cannot understand the roots of what has become liberal political theory without knowing the historical and social context it was being written in. Because it was written in direct response to the pressures and ideas that it was arguing with! Did you know that a lot of what Thomas Hobbes had to say about society was in direct response to his experiences living through the English Civil Wars, the earliest beginnings of capitalism, and the slow crumbling of feudal monarchies? How "universal" are his ideas about society and human nature going to be? And even though we're now away from the issue of translation from other languages into English, the English language itself and the writing styles of academics have changed so much in the last three centuries that those older works are going to be nearly unintelligible to most of my students.

So maybe I could just lop it off at "English-language philosophy of the last 100 years." Still impossible. The analytic/continental split that happened near the beginning of the 20th century alone has resulted in two hugely different fields (each of which are subdivided into more subjects) with differing methodologies and canons.

The best I can do here is to focus on the contemporary methodologies of basic logic (good skills to have no matter what) and try to hit on a few of the major areas of contemporary study in my own field. But doing that kind of broad survey course makes it hard to give people a good idea of what philosophy actually is because hopping topics that way cuts people off from understanding that philosophical work is always a conversation between authors, with people writing and replying both to their contemporaries and to their predecessors. And it's hard when you're going that fast to a) give an accurate picture of multiple sides of an ongoing debate without b) leaving my students with the impression that we really don't know anything and philosophy is just a bunch of people saying stuff and nothing ever gets decided on (this is even worse in ethics because students come to me primed to either end up as absolute ethical relativists (not the same thing as cultural sensitivity) or decide that since no one seems to agree on anything, they should just stick with whatever they already believe and not bother questioning anything).

Rant over. I just. This is one of the most frustrating parts of my job, and I really, really wish that we taught people philosophy starting in elementary school (yes, you can do that) so that they could get the same sort of gradual experience and skill building that they (supposedly) are getting in their other studies. (Of course... that doesn't always happen, and the difficulty my students have with general reading comprehension is yet another barrier to me being able to teach them).

[bonefall]

Ask Etiquette

HELLO sorry for the intimidating post lmao, I just need something to toss up on the masterpost because I feel bad deleting asks and then people will never really have an idea of why I never answered them

I get a ton of asks (usually anywhere from 10 - 20 a day!) and I'm not able to get to them all! I try to answer as many as possible but I'm still just one guy. So with that in mind, there are some sorts of asks I will simply not answer, and some 'requests' I have for people who send them in;

Please keep your asks short PLEASE try not to send me essays if you want a response; I still love reading them! But if you send me walls of text/analysis you are asking me to write a lot in response, which I'd rather spend on actually writing or designing cats. (On that note if you send a bunch of questions at once, the likelihood I respond goes down.)

Do not send me personal questions Listen... I'm a stranger on the internet. I'm overjoyed to see when my art connects with people and helps you realize things! But don't ask me sensitive questions like how to move out of your abusive parents' house!! PLEASE learn internet safety and get less comfortable with volunteering that kind of information to people you don't know!

Do not ask me personal questions you do not need to know what i study or where i work. get less comfortable asking these sorts of questions to queer people on the internet, especially when they talk openly about having previously been abused or stalked. (not that a person should even need to be as open about that as i am)

If I don't have a good response I won't answer Especially for suggestions I don't vibe with. I try to only say "No" if I have a particularly interesting "No" to talk about, if that makes sense! If I had to write a full explanation for every veto or idea I don't vibe with, this blog would be 90% what isn't in BB.

No AUs within the AU. "What if Hawkfrost survived his impalement? What if Firestar never joined? What if Tigerstar was never born?" Listen, buddy, you're creating an exponential distraction for possible ways the story could have gone and I'm not looking to write several essays for the literal hundreds of alternative ways Clan history could have been written. It takes you 5 words to ask "What if X never died" but it takes me paragraphs to answer. (This isn't about suggestions btw, I very specifically mean ppl asking hypotheticals for fun.)

Don't be rude. I feel like this should go without saying but please mind the parasocial gap. Especially if you're on anon, I don't know you, your backstory, or your cadence.

No "Fight Baiting" You're free to ask me to speak about fandom trends, or for my opinions on general ideas, character discussions, and popular arguments! But it crosses a line if you're linking someone's posts with their uncropped usernames, sharing unsolicited google docs, youtube videos, etc, with the intention of getting me to attack a third party. We can talk about ideas without making it a PVP battle.

And, lastly, CLANMEW ASKS!!

I make a hard effort to get to everyone!! Those are published on Clanmew Day (WHICH IS NOW JUST GOING TO BE THE 30TH OF EVERY MONTH SO THAT IT'S LESS CONFUSING) but PLEASE understand I get a ton of them.

As I write this I have more than 26 tabs open of unanswered Clanmew asks, a lot more in my inbox, and 9 already in the queue. So that you understand the sheer volume of asks I have there.

If I didn't get to you that month, chances are that I'll get to you on the next, but please understand why I ask for folks to not re-send asks

So here's Clanmew-specific requests;

PLEASE just try a translation on your own first! Don't just send me raw lists of OCs to translate, give it a go first using the Lexicon, just so I can see you tried. I will happily and gladly make more specific words for you when I see you try!

When you send OCs you've translated, ask me for a new word at the end if you didn't already in your list. Just in case I can't think of a witty comment or a word suggestion, you will help me a lot

Please try to format with lists like this one Folks will send me double or triple-indented lists and it will take up my entire screen when they've only sent like, 5 names. Remember that posts you send to me go on people's dashes, be considerate please You can open a list like this by starting a new paragraph, typing -, and then an immediate space. Hold Shift + Enter to indent without adding another bullet.

If you could put "Clanmew" somewhere in your ask, like even if you open up with "Clanmew: Here is my question blah blah," it would help immensely I physically can't get to every ask I receive on Clanmew Day, so if you have "Clanmew" in your ask somewhere, it makes it a lot easier for me to find it when I can finally answer! I really wish Tumblr had ways to sort asks, but currently, I've just gotta make due with Cntrl + F.

[meggiejolly]

Best Friend's Boyfriend's Cousin - A RNM Malex Fanfic

Happy Holidays @bloggingbisexually! Here is your @rnm-secret-santa gift, I hope you enjoy it. It's a canon divergent AU where Michael never went back to Roswell and didn't meet Max and Isobel again until after High School. So Michael and Alex never met and when Alex plans to move to New York to pursue his music, Liz and Max think it would be a great idea to move in with Michael, who is in New York to go to NYU. As far as Alex knows, Michael is a cousin of Max and Isobel who they found through one of those DNA test kits and databank. I hope this fluffy roommate AU is to your liking, I certainly enjoyed writing it. Read it on AO3 (The formatting doesn't really translate onto Tumblr, so I recommend reading it on AO3)

“This is a terrible idea. I don’t even know this guy.”

“You don’t know anyone in New York. At least you know someone who knows him.”

“To be honest I barely know Max and Isobel, so it's more that I know someone who knows someone who knows him." Alex argued. "And what if I don’t get along with him? Then that will be much more awkward than if he was a random stranger with no connection to me or anyone I know.” 

Liz rolled her eyes, “Oh come on, give him a chance. Where else are you going to find a roommate that already has an apartment lined up?” 

Alex sighed, he didn’t like the idea of living with some relative of Liz’ boyfriend. It seemed too complicated and there was just something off about the whole situation. This Michael guy Liz wanted him to live with was supposedly a long lost cousin that Max and his sister had found through one of those online DNA test kits a few months ago and that they were just getting to know each other now. Michael was about to move to NewYork because he had a scholarship for an engineering program and was looking for a roommate. Alex was planning to move to New York as well to pursue his music and Liz, Isobel and Max had gotten it in their heads that that was the perfect coincidence and meant Alex and Michael should be roommates. Alex was not convinced and he had no idea what Michael thought about the whole idea. 

“What if he turns out to be a homophobic dick?” Alex asked in an attempt to convince Liz that this wasn’t the perfect idea she thought it was. 

“Iz and Max know you’re gay. They wouldn’t recommend him as your roommate if he’s gonna have a problem with your sexuality.” 

"Do they even know him well enough to know how he feels about queer people?"

Liz looked a little uncomfortable, "I think so."

Alex just raised an eyebrow at her in response and she rolled her eyes. 

"Oh come on, as if you would know if a complete stranger you found on the internet was homophobic or not."

Alex was about to reply, but Maria, who had been silently following their conversation for a while interrupted him. "Stop arguing you two. You both have good points, but honestly Alex, Liz is right, your chances in finding a good roommate in New York from a distance aren't any better than taking a chance on Max' cousin. Just ask for his contact info and set up a meeting or a call or something before you agree to live with him."

With a sigh Alex agreed, “I guess, but I’m blaming you two if this goes wrong. You four, actually.”

Liz grinned and pulled out her phone to get the contact details from Max. “I have a good feeling about this, so I’ll take that risk.” 

“Nope, stop. One of you with psychic feelings is enough,” Alex said with a groan which Liz and Maria only laughed at. 

Max replied with Michael’s contact information soon after and even though it took Alex a few days, he eventually reached out to Michael. They didn’t end up meeting, but they texted back and forth for a bit and had a short conversation over the phone. The convenience of it all won out in the end and Alex agreed to share the small two bedroom apartment that Michael had lined up in New York. 

A little less than a month later Alex arrived in New York. He'd been there only once before when Mimi had agreed to take him, Liz and Maria after they had saved up for it for months when they had been 15. They had gone to an open mic thing at a small coffee shop/bar place that Alex still wasn't sure three 15 year olds should have been allowed in, but Mimi had known someone there and gotten them in. It was that night that Alex' dream to someday be a musician in New York had been born and now it would finally become a reality. Hopefully.

He pulled out the key that Max had given him on behalf of Michael and opened the door to the apartment building. Michael had texted earlier that he was out and that Alex should just make himself at home, he would be back later and bring pizza. 

Alex was actually pretty relieved that he had the first few hours to himself. He walked up the multiple flights of stairs to the apartment, glad that he only had a backpack, a duffel bag and a suitcase. Apparently there were perks to having so little stuff to call his own. 

He unlocked the apartment door and stepped inside of his new home.

After exploring the apartment and unpacking his things, Alex ended up sitting on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through his phone and feeling awkward. He didn't have the wifi password yet, so he couldn't get any of his work for the remote programming course he was taking done, he didn't feel up to working on his music and he didn't want to miss Michael coming back, so exploring the neighborhood was out as well.

Half an eternity of boredom later - or at least it felt like that -, Alex was just about to go out after all, when he heard keys in the lock and quickly sat up straighter to make a good first impression.

The door opened and Alex' mouth went dry because, damn Michael Guerin was hot.

He had expected someone who looked like Max or Isobel, who were, in Alex' opinion, good looking but not his type at all. Their cousin on the other hand... Alex took in the grease stained jeans that looked well-worn and hung low on Michael's hips. He was wearing a slightly frayed but soft looking button up shirt that had more buttons undone than strictly appropriate for just coming back from work. To round out the look he was wearing a cowboy hat. In New York. And it didn't look pretentious at all, he just looked like a cowboy, which Alex supposed, he was. He was from New Mexico after all.

Michael set down the pizza box he was carrying, took off his hat and revealed messy, slightly sweaty curls that made Alex consider sitting on his hands to keep himself from reaching out to run them through Michael's hair. Fuck that guy was hot. This had been a spectacularly bad idea. He was in New York to become a musician, not to develop a crush on his roommate who also happened to be related to his best friend's boyfriend.

Michael smiled at Alex and pushed his curls back before extending a hand to Alex. "Hi, you must be Alex. I hope you found everything ok."

Alex stood up quickly and shook Michael's hand. "Yeah, it was no problem. Thanks for setting everything up." 

"No problem, it wasn't much. Just some cleaning and a few general repairs. The previous tenant was a bit… optimistic in his assessment of the furniture they left behind."

"Don't worry about it, we'll figure it out," Alex said with a shrug and realized he was still holding Michael's hand.

He quickly pulled his hand back and cleared his throat. "Uhm, I brought some beer to go with the pizza. I'll go get it."

"Oh sure, thanks. Let me just go wash up, I'll be right back."

Alex grabbed some napkins and a beer for each of them and then pulled out his phone to text Maria and Liz. 

05:43 pm

This was a terrible idea

Why did no one tell me he's hot?

Michael came out of his room a few moments later and sat next to Alex on the couch and Alex handed him a beer.

"Thanks, I went with plain cheese pizza, I hope that's ok. I wasn't sure what you like."

"Cheese is always good, thanks for getting it." 

"No problem, Isobel probably would have had my head if she found out I didn't do anything to welcome you."

Alex laughed, he didn't know Isobel Evans that well, but that sounded like her.

"Sounds like you three have gotten pretty close in a short time."

Michael shifted slightly uncomfortably and Alex regretted bringing it up instantly. It was way too personal a question for someone you met less than half an hour ago. He was about to take it back when Michale answered.

"Yeah well, they're the only family I've ever met, so…"

Alex took a swig of his beer to get a second to come up with an answer. "Well, it's really good you guys found each other through that DNA thing then."

"Yeah…" Michael nodded and took a swig as well, "What about you, are you close to your family?"

Alex couldn't help but laugh. "No. Not at all. That's part of the reason why I'm here. But let's not get into that tonight, ok?"

"Yeah, of course. Sorry to bring it up."

Alex just shrugged and they both ate their pizza in silence for a moment. Alex felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, probably with answers from Liz and Maria, but he chose to ignore them for now. 

The silence was starting to become awkward and Alex was racking his brain to come up with a good topic, when Michael spoke again: 

"So, Max said you're here to make music? What kind of music?"

That proved to be a shared interest as Michael played guitar as well and they fell into an easy conversation of their favorite music and bands. Alex told Michael about his plans for getting into the New York music scene and soon the pizza and beer was gone.

Once they both went to their respective rooms, Alex had a chance to check his phone. 

Liz Ortecho

05:57 pm

Is he? I haven’t met him yet.

Maria DeLuca

05:59 pm

Send us a picture!

07:19 pm

I can’t just take a picture of him, that’s weird. Ask Max or Isobel if they have one. 

Liz Ortecho

07:21 pm

Hold on, I’ll text Max.

Marie DeLuca 

07:22 pm

How’s the apartment besides the hot roommate?

07:22 pm

Pretty good It’s nothing fancy obviously. I definitely need a new mattress but it has everything I need.

Michael and I just had pizza and beer and talked for a while. I think we’ll get along fine. 

As soon as I get over how hot he is. 

Liz Ortecho

07:24 pm

Max sent me this picture of the three of them. He’s cute

07:25 pm

Okay, now picture him in grease stained work clothes and a cowboy hat. 

Marie DeLuca 

07:27 pm

I can see that I just didn’t know that was your type. I thought you were more into the brooding musician guy

07:28 pm

Yeah well I didn’t either. Maybe it’s just really early homesickness or something

Also he does play guitar. 

Maria DeLuca

07:29 pm

😂

Liz Ortecho

07:29 pm

😂

Good luck with that! Do you want me to find out if Max knows if he’s into guys?

07:31 pm

No! Don’t you dare! 

He’s just hot, I’m not starting anything with him. He’s my roommate and related to your boyfriend. That’s just way too much drama. 

I’m sure I’ll find other hot guys to hook up with in New York

Liz Ortecho

07:34 pm

Oh sure Still… the convenience… ;)

07:35 pm

LIZ!

Maria DeLuca

07:36 pm

😂 

07:38 pm

I miss you already. 

Liz Ortecho

07:39 pm

❤️

Maria DeLuca

07:40 pm

We miss you too! ❤️

07:42 pm

I should get some work done though so I can explore tomorrow. Talk to you soon! 

Alex put away his phone and pulled his laptop out. Michael had given him the Wifi password, so he could get started on his programming homework. 

Their life as roommates went pretty smoothly. Michael wen't to class and to his job, and Alex did his remote course work, worked on his music (so far none of the neighbors had complained), and he had also found a part time job at a little record shop. In his spare time he checked out as many bars, coffee shops and clubs that were known for letting newcomers play there as he could find. So far he hadn’t been brave enough to sign up for any open mics or anything similar, but he was starting to make some connections. The networking was his least favorite part about the entire thing, but it was necessary.

Since they were both busy and their schedules didn’t always line up, they didn’t actually see each other that much, but when they did, they got along great. From time to time they played music together, Alex had been able to organize Michael a cheap guitar from the record shop, and that really helped when Alex was hit with music block. It was also just a lot of fun, he hadn’t had many people to just jam with back in Roswell. 

Sometimes they tried to cook together. Neither of them had really had the chance to learn growing up, so now they were trying to teach each other. The kitchen usually looked a mess after they finished, but so far they had only managed one truly inedible thing, to both their surprises. 

Tonight they were attempting to make soup and since lots of sources on the internet had said they could basically just throw in vegetables and broth, cook it and then puree it, they weren’t using a recipe for the first time. 

“Okay, we have potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, bell peppers, peas, tomatoes and broccoli. Do you think it matters what we start with?” Alex asked, looking over all the produce that was spread out in their kitchen, which was too small to hold it all. 

Michael shrugged, “I don’t think so, I mean we’re cooking and pureeing it all together, so we don’t have to keep the different cook times in mind, right?”

“Probably not. Okay, I’ll start peeling the potatoes.”

“Good, I’ll tackle the broccoli.” 

They both got to work, luckily they had invested in some decent knives but even with those they were both cursing. Who knew it was so hard to peel sweet potatoes and cut broccoli?

“How do these little green bits get everywhere? I’m pretty sure we’ll still be finding them by the time we move out.” 

“Eh, I’m sure ants or something will get them. Maybe mice.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” 

Alex laughed and then somehow launched the sweet potato he was battling across the room. That stopped him short until both he and Michael doubled over laughing. 

“How the hell did you manage that?”, wheezed Michael. 

“I have no idea. That thing is surprisingly slippery.” Alex went to retrieve the sweet potato, rinsed it off and removed the last bit of skin before starting to cut it. 

“How can something that turns to basically mush when you cook it, be so hard when it’s raw?”, he grunted as he leaned his weight onto the knife to cut the thing. 

Michael chuckled, “We could probably find some pretentious life lesson in that, if we wanted.” He had finished with the broccoli and deposited the pieces into the big pot. “What next?”

“You could do the bell peppers.”

“On it. How is your sweet potato battle going?”

Alex dumped a batch of orange cubes into the pot. “I think I’m winning.” 

After the sweet potatoes, the regular potatoes were a piece of cake and Alex had them peeled and diced in no time. 

When they were finished with all the vegetables, the pot was much fuller than expected. 

"Uhh… how are we going to puree this when it’s done cooking?”

“I don’t know, it might shrink some during cooking?”

“Yeah… maybe.” 

Michael got the broth they had bought from the fridge and dumped it into the pot with a little too much force and some of it spilled. “Oops…”

Alex laughed and got a cloth to wipe it up, before peering in the pot. I don’t think that’s enough liquid. Maybe we should add some water?”

“You’re probably right”, Michael got the water and poured it in more carefully. Then he lit the stove and stepped back.

“I think we earned a beer.” 

“Good plan, but we should use the cooking time to clean up some of this mess”, Alex gestured at all the peels and vegetal bits on every kitchen surface and even the floor. 

Michael sighed, “I guess… But beer first.”

Alex laughed and handed Michael a beer who took a healthy swig before starting to get rid of the mess. 

The vegetables did not shrink significantly and they had nothing they could put over the pot and still have space for the stick blender they had borrowed from one of their neighbors. They looked at each other at a loss. 

“I guess we’ll just have to be really careful and clean up everything that spills after”, Michael said with a  shrug and handed Alex the blender.

“Why me? Admit it, you just don’t want to be responsible for the mess”, Alex complained but took the blender anyways. Michael just winked at him, which was severely unfair. Alex had managed to build up some defenses against the way Michael looked, but not against winks and smirks. He sighed silently and carefully put the blender in the pot. For some reason Michael hovered right behind him and watched the pot in concentration as Alex started to blend. It made him nervous. 

“Are you trying to telepathically keep the soup from splashing out?”

For some reason that question startled Michael, which in turn startled Alex and made soup splash out of the pot and all over their shirts. 

“Fuck!”, they cursed at the same time, thats stuff was hot. Alex quickly turned off the blender. 

“You ok?”, they asked, again in unison and then laughed. 

“Yeah, I think so.” Michael pulled open his shirt to check for burns and Alex’ mouth went a little dry. 

“Doesn’t look like an actual burn. You?” Michael looked up at Alex who quickly averted his eyes and pulled up his own shirt. There was a slight red spot, but nothing serious. 

“I’m good too.” He looked up just in time to see Michael quickly look away just as he had done. Huh. Was he maybe not the only one appreciating the view? Sometimes it seemed like Michael was flirting with him. He still didn’t know if Michael was into guys. The few times he had brought someone over, it had been women, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be into guys too, right? He definitely didn’t seem to mind that Alex was gay. Alex had come out to him a couple of days after he had moved in, to avoid any ugly homophobic scenes later and Michael had been cool with it. He also hadn’t seemed to mind the one time Alex had brought someone home. 

“Good,” Michael’s voice pulled Alex out of his thoughts “let’s try again. Maybe without talking this time.”

Alex nodded and they got back in position. For some reason again with Michael hovering behind Alex and focusing on the pot. Alex did his best to ignore it and carefully blended the soup. Surprisingly, nothing more splashed out. It looked like it would a couple of times, but then somehow it didn’t. Alex decided not to question it. 

When they were done blending, they added in a little heavy cream, since Alex had read somewhere that it made the soup creamier. Then they started with the seasoning. Very carefully, because they had added too much or too little to their first few attempts at cooking. They took turns trying the soup, asking what was missing, adding a little and repeating the process over and over. Eventually they were happy with the result and looked at the finished soup. 

“Okay… that’s much more than expected. I think we might be eating soup for the next week straight”, Michael said. 

“Yeah… Maybe we can bring Mrs. Welly some when we return her stick blender?” 

“Good idea. Let’s eat some first, though. Who knows if it’s actually good if you have a full bowl.” 

It was surprisingly good and once they cleaned up, they went over to Mrs. Welly who was very grateful for the soup. She told them they could borrow her kitchen appliances any time, made them take two huge pieces of a delicious cake she had apparently baked earlier and promised she would have them over for dinner soon. All in all a successful evening.

Michael was a good roommate, but there were some things that were… a little strange about him. 

For one thing, he always kind of smelled like rain. Even when it hadn’t rained in a few days. Alex was pretty sure it wasn’t some sort of aftershave or lotion or something, they shared a bathroom after all. 

And somehow, it was a specific rain smell, one that kind of reminded him of going to the Reservation with his mom when he was a child. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, he didn’t have a clear memory of it smelling like rain there, but sometimes, when Michael was standing close to him, he breathed in a whiff of that smell and it was like being back at the Res. Memories linked to smell were weird like that. 

Besides the rain smell, Michael sometimes smelled like nail polish remover, which was even stranger. Alex had never seen him wear any nail polish. Alex did sometimes, and he had bought a bottle of remover when he’d first moved in. The bottle was still standing in the little cabinet over the sink in the bathroom, but Alex could swear that the fluid level changed constantly. It was never empty, but sometimes it was fuller than other times. And he had seen an empty bottle of nail polish remover in the trash a couple of times. What was Michael doing with it? Did he need it for school, or for work? Alex had no idea why though, there had to be better solvents at a fancy science lab and a mechanics shop than regular nail polish remover. 

In the end he mostly chose not to question it. Michael was already distracting enough without analyzing strange smells. 

It felt like Michael became more distracting every day. The more comfortable they became with each other, the worse it got. Michael would tease Alex in an almost flirtatious way, which was a little unfair, if you asked Alex. 

Sometimes he brought whatever he was tinkering on into the living room and worked on it while Alex did his course work, or messed with his music. Alex loved watching Michael tinker, he was so focused and he would mumble things under his breath that Alex couldn’t make out, but enjoyed hearing anyways. It wasn’t like he would understand a word Michael said, even if he could hear it properly. Michael was a lot smarter than him and really talented with his hands. Sometimes it seemed like the parts Michael was putting together slotted perfectly into place without him even touching them. 

Alex had to be careful that he didn’t watch too long, because eventually he would start to wonder what else those hands could do… 

And, if he stopped playing music, or clack away on his computer, Michael would eventually look up with a questioning look and a smile and ask him if he was stuck on something. If it was music, he’d offer to help and if it was programming, he would suggest that they take a break and go out for a bit, or watch an episode of whatever show they were watching currently. Because yeah, they had become the kind of roommates that always had a TV show project they were slowly watching together and one person was not allowed to watch a single minute of the show without the other one there. Alex had never thought he could ever be someone who did that, but it was nice. It was time they spent together and a great way to wind down after a long day. 

Had they fallen asleep on the couch once or twice and woken up leaning against each other with a crick in their necks? Maybe. Did Alex secretly wish that would happen more often. Yeah, well… He was only human after all. 

A few times he had dosed of on Michael's shoulder and had woken up to Michael watching him with a look on his face that made Alex wonder if maybe starting something with Michael was worth the risk after all. Alex' slight oh-fuck-my-roommate-is-hot-crush had certainly grown into something more serious lately. 

There were moments when Alex thought Michael might feel the same way. When they were watching TV together, when they played music together, when they vented to each other after long days, when they stayed up too late because neither really wanted to go into their respective bedroom alone and leave the comfortable togetherness of the living room. Neither of them ever made a move though and so their lives just went on.

Alex' music was coming along pretty well actually, with Michael cheering him on. He had enough original songs for a small set now. Not that he was ready to perform an entire set of original songs yet, but he was considering signing up for his first open night. It was at a little coffee shop called Sip & Sing that he and Michael hung out at sometimes. He knew most of the regulars there and had become friends with one of the baristas. They had open mics once a month and the next one was coming up in two weeks. 

“You should do it Alex. Come on, you know you’re good enough. And you’ll know almost everyone there, it’s low risk”, Michael encouraged him one night when Alex had opened and closed the sign up page on their website for the fourth time that day. 

“Yeah but what if I tank and then I can never go there again?”

“First of all, you won’t. And second of all, Lucy forgot the text twice last month and everyone still welcomed her back there the next day. Everyone there will be supportive no matter how you do.”

“Isn’t that cheating then?”

Michale snorted. “Now you’re making excuses. Finding a friendly audience for your first live performance is not cheating.”

Alex sighed, Michael was probably right. “Okay, I guess… But only if you promise to come.” 

Michael put an arm around him. “Of course I’m coming! You couldn’t keep me away.” 

Alex smiled and leaned into him just a little. “Okay, I’ll sign up. And then you’re helping me pick out which song to perform.” 

“Which you will then change fifteen times until the actual night.” 

“Yeah well, everyone needs a system”, Alex said with a huff and pulled up the sign up for the fifth time. This time he actually filled it out though and even submitted it. Even though Michael had to threaten to do it for him before he finally hit enter. 

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”, he said with a groan and buried his face in Michael’s shoulder, who was still sitting next to him. 

Michael laughed softly. “Yeah, multiple times probably. But you’ll be glad you did it in the end.” 

Alex regretted it that night in bed and even more the next day when he stopped at the Sip & Sing to get a coffee before heading to work and Rema, the owner, spotted him. 

“Alex! I saw you signed up for the next open mic! That’s great, I can’t wait to hear your song!” 

They insisted on giving him a coffee on the house and gushed about how great it was that he’d be performing. Alex kind of wanted to sink into the ground in shame. Especially when Lucy, one of the regulars, came in and heard Rema. She started to reassure him that he’d be great and that he definitely wouldn’t forget any lines. 

Alex was very glad when he managed to get his coffee and escape with the excuse that he was running late. 

Alex had decided not to tell Maria and Liz about the open mic. He knew they would try to come and honestly, that was too much for him for the first time. Maybe the second or third. He would text them the day of and risk their wrath. Michael would be there and a few friends from the coffee shop. That would be nerve-racking enough. 

He spend every free second working on the song (and just as predicted by Michael, changing his mind which song to perform almost every other day), which was finally too much for their very patient neighbors and they got a noise complaint. Alex was forced to not play between 11pm and 6am and to avoid playing around noon, which was probably for the best, he was starting to be a bit obsessive. Michael threatened to hide his guitar and music sheets regularly. 

When the day of the open mic finally came, Alex was a nervous wreck. 

6:36pm

Don’t be mad at me, but I’m performing at my first open mic tonight at 8. 

Liz Ortecho

6:38 pm

And you didn’t tell us?!?! Rude!

6:39 pm

I’m sorry! I’m nervous enough as it is, I promise I’ll tell you next time so you can come.

MariaAwww DeLuca

6:40 pm

It’s ok Alex, we understand. Good luck tonight! You’ll kill it! 

Liz Ortecho 

6:41 pm

Of course we understand. But I will ask Max for Michael’s number and pester him into recording it of us. 

He is coming right?

6:42 pm

He is, I wouldn’t have made it without him. 

Marie DeLuca

6:43

Aww, aren’t you glad we forced you into moving in with him?

6:44

Shut up!

… Yes, thank you. 

The alarm that Alex had set to get ready went off and Alex nervously rushed to the bathroom. He was already dressed and his nails were painted, he just needed to do his hair and put on his eyeliner. 

When he was done, way too early of course, he stepped out of the bathroom to find Michael waiting for him. He gave him once over and let out a low whistle. 

“Damn, you clean up nice Manes.”

Alex hoped his blush wasn’t too noticeable. “Shut up Guerin.” 

Michael laughed and slung his arm around Alex’ shoulder. “You’ll do great. Come on, I know it’s early, but if you sit around here, you’ll just drive yourself crazy. We’ll take the long way there and maybe get a milkshake on the way or something.”

Alex was really glad to have Michael to support him today. Something about him was very calming and maybe his crush on him distracted him a bit from his nerves. 

They got their milkshakes and an order of fries to dip in them. Michael always complained that it was weird, but he did dip his fries as well, so Alex had stopped listening months ago. 

By the time they arrived at the Sip & Sing, Alex was much more relaxed. Michael had kept him distracted the entire way there by telling him funny things that happened in class or at work, or quoting things from the group chat with Isobel and Max. 

Alex' phone dinged with good luck messages from Liz, Maria, Arturo, Mimi and surprisingly even from Max and Isobel. He smiled at his phone and put it back into his pocket. It was nice to know they were all thinking of him. 

“Hey, did Liz convince you to record my performance?”

Michael laughed, "She wanted me to livestream it for what felt like half of Roswell. You're popular." 

Alex groaned, "Please tell me you won't."

"No, don't worry. I'll record it and send it to her and then she can distribute it to whomever she wants." 

"That's only slightly better", Alex said with a sigh and went over to greet Rema and find out when his turn was. He was number three of six performers tonight, which suited him fine. 

Rema told him where to put his guitar and to give any needed details to Luke, who handled the technical side of the performances. 

When he got back to Michael he had gotten them drinks and found a table. Alex sat down and took a sip from his drink, his nerves were starting to come back. Michael seemed to notice and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Alex smiled at him thankfully. 

Rema came onto the little stage area and introduced the first performer. She was good, Alex had heard her here a few times before and two months ago there had been a flyer on the pin board advertising that she was part of the lineup for a mini pop-up concert in a nearby park. 

He didn't catch much of the second performance, it was a duo, but that was about all that stuck. When they were done, Michael squeezed his shoulder and whispered a quick "Good Luck!" to him as Alex stood up and made his way to the stage. 

"Our first first-timer for tonight is Alex Manes, who most of you know, I think. He's performing an original song. Give him a hand!", Rema introduced him and Alex nervously sat on the little stool and adjusted the mic and his guitar. 

He focused on Michael for the entire song, who was smiling widely and encouragingly while holding his phone up that represented all the other people in his life that loved and supported him through this. Suddenly he almost regretted not inviting Liz and Maria and swore to himself he would invite them next time. 

He got through the song without any problem and got a satisfying amount of applause and cheering from the audience, topped by Michael's best, earsplitting cowboy whistle. Alex couldn't help but grin from ear to ear on his way back to the table and when Michael greeted him with an equally wide grin and a hug, something in him clicked and he pulled Michael in for a kiss instead. Which was met by an enthusiastic response both by Michael kissing him back and the audience cheering. 

They were interrupted by Rema "Okay you two, there's time for that after the show. Now let's move on to our next performer…" 

Alex blushed and sat back down, a little closer to Michael than before. Michael smiled at him in a way that gave him butterflies and he couldn't wait for after the show. 

For now he settled in to listen to the rest of the performers, but not until he pulled out his phone.

8:23 pm

I kissed him. 

He kissed me back

8: 25 pm

The open mic thing went great, btw.

He was met by a ton of celebratory emojis from Liz and Maria and put his phone back into his pocket with a grin. 

[guster-animations]

Kamen Rider Geats Finale Commemoration Producers’ Symposium: Translation (V2 Part 3)

this is part 3 of my revised translation for kamen rider geats’ producer round-table.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 (HERE)

i originally did geats’ symposium first because it’s already been graciously transcribed and posted by other people (with a few typos)— you can find that transcription of the original japanese text here.

TOKU TRANSLATION MASTERPOST HERE

this translation was done for a few projects of mine. join the henshindex wiki today!

Review I: A Lively Group of Riders

TTFC: You’ve just returned to talking about Kan, and since you touched on the supporters and management side cast at the start, now I’d like to hear about the main cast other than Kan, if you could.

Takebe: Ryuga (Sato) was inexperienced in acting, but he had interesting features in his looks and physical ability.

Yoshikawa: In video auditions at the start, his ratings were high and he was invited to move on to face-to-face. When I looked closely at the materials, Ryuga got an A from Takebe. So it was our first time meeting him in person too. He was filled with wonder, and while other people were auditioning he was saying things like “Whoa…” (Laughs). Well, the real person is fairly different from Keiwa. If something was said, he would immediately stop what he was doing— he’s very responsive.

Takebe: I feel like he fits in the role of “the sharp one”. I don’t mean that in a bad way at all; he’s very attentive and and he completely understands things.

Takishima: Director Nakazawa likes to make scenes where they’re laughing a little bit even in a serious episode. In times like that, he made a great fit for Keiwa. For the director, he decided that Ryuga could do it and left it to him. He was doing that at the soba restaurant, and even in the endgame, in episode 48.

Yoshikawa: He can put together scenes like that himself without being told in detail. I think that’s his talent.

Takebe: So as for Ryuga, I think it’s just a matter of how he’ll use that in the future. On the other hand, there will be scenes in the future where such responsiveness alone is not enough for what the directors ask, so sometimes he should should be an “acting fool”, or rather, become deeply immersed in his role, and grow even further. He’s promising.

Takishima: That’s right. He has the ability to see himself objectively, so he can immediately come up with ideas like, “If I do it like this, the people watching will like it” (Laughs). Of course, that can also be a strength, but I want him to go even further than that. Because I think he can do that.

Yoshikawa: Like Takebe and Takishima said, I think that new opportunities will open when you don’t decide what suffices by yourself, and instead you look closer at your acting. When there is clearly “room for growth”, you want to do you best.

Takebe: Next is Yuna (Hoshino). How is she? I think that she’s had a strong image from the beginning.

Takishima: After all, she was only a person who had a lot of activity in the YouTube and modeling worlds, and still young, so her professionalism is amazing. It seems like her mother said to “always be aware of the people watching you”, and she tightly follows that idea.

Takebe: No matter what or when, she never lets her smile die. I don’t think she can.

Takishima: I think that she worked hard and energetically with such a small figure. There are definitely times where she gets tired. But she never lets that show on her face.

Yoshikawa: She was 17 when filming started, and now she’s 18. But even then, she was able to care for those around her so much, and she always kept them lively.

Takebe: Regarding her acting, the only word I have is “confidence”. The staff certainly loved it too.

Takishima: In things like her speech at the winter movie premiere she seemed nervous, which is surprising when you think about her background, but I guess she’s honest at heart.

Takebe: During the stage speeches for the summer movie, Director Kamihoriuchi said, “The most improved one is Yuna”, and she started crying with joy.

Takishima: The Kurama family was amazing. Ryoko Yui as her mother, and Shinji Kasahara as her father. Don’t get me wrong, they’re both “acting monsters” [TN: I omitted the last part of this sentence because the transcription of one kanji was definitely incorrect and I don’t know what it actually says]. She’s also amazing for getting a hold of it without fail.

Takebe: She deeply wanted to be an actress, and I’m sure that she cried with joy when her role was announced. Having that determination is great. Real life isn’t “Geats”, but if Yuna keeps wishing, that wish will surely come true.

Takishima: To say just one thing, I’m happy that she tried to keep the scene calm, but I say that, when the moment is right, it’s also good to not care about your surroundings and instead enter your own world and zone in. I guess she’s so kind that she can’t help but look around her… As much as I think that, I have lots of thanks and encouragement for Yuna.

Yoshikawa: Can I talk about (Kazuto) Mokudai? He was actually busy with other work and he couldn’t attend auditions. But I liked him a lot and wanted to meet him, so I prepared a chance for him to try out on a day when he was available. Then he took that opportunity, and he was cast as Buffa… Michinaga.

His answers on the audition questionnaire were interesting— For the question “Are you good at a sport?”, he calmly responded, “I can do anything”. Also, during auditions, we met with 4 people who had taught Mokudai, but they kept changing the subject, even though no one was asked (Laughs). Like, “Oh, interesting. Then, how is this actor?”. He, like Yuna, was 17 at the time. Despite this, he was always confident and brazen, and I would think, “What is this person’s deal?” (Laughs).

Takishima: You said back then that it felt a little like Kiita (Komagine, who played the lead in Zenkaiger).

Takebe: That’s true, I did say that.

Takishima: Kiita and Mokudai both listen well to what people said, and are able to further improve based on those comments. By the way, when his manager asked how the auditions for “Geats” went afterwards, he (?) replied, “I got a good laugh out of it” (Laughs).

Takebe: Mokudai was decided, and with Kan as Ace and Ryuga as Keiwa, it felt like the last piece of the male group was filled. Our opinions on who would get which one were divided until the end, and like I said at the start, Kan’s Ace was something that we made a gamble on, but it turned out amazing.

Takishima: Next is Tsumuri. Kokoro Aoshima.

Takebe: In regards to her she seemed to be a little unfit for a cheerful character during auditions, but Tsumuri was probably the only character in the DGP staff who would become an ally of Ace and company, so we wanted her to give a cheerful performance. She was tempted to perform that sort of character more mysteriously, but we kept saying “Be cheerful” and it paid off. Before our eyes, she was established as a bright and sweet character. Director Nakazawa especially cared about that. Tsumuri was always cute in his episodes (Laughs).

Takishima: No matter what, Tsumuri would always get a lot of exposition lines, so we had a lot of trouble with that in the early days. But she got through that period wonderfully. Even so, she had many green-screen shots, and on top of that, she had to say things that she hadn’t known before as if she knew them. I think it was difficult for her.

Takebe: It’s because Yuya loves Tsumuri too. Neon is a heroine too, but Tsumuri is a different kind of one. As the key person of the final arc, she showed a lot of growth over the year. I think she persevered well. At the beginning, she said, “If people remember the role of Tsumuri better than they remember me, then I’ll be happy,” and that was striking.

Review II: “Second Times” and Action

Takebe: For the characters other than the main 5, the key word in a sense was “second job”. They did their first job not as a Rider, and by then it’s easier to work with them because we know those people’s abilities and personality to some extent, and the client would be more willing to work with us because they can think that we liked their previous performance. To cite something specific, Niram’s Ryo Kitamura, and Win Hareruya’s Tsubasa Sakiyama, both appeared together in the Toei Movie-Stage “The Shinigami Incident” (directed by Director Shibasaki), and because of that, we thought about having them appear in “Geats” too. Daichi’s Dai Gotou was in the stage show “Kamen Rider Zangetsu”, and Fuku Suzuki was also in the movie “Saber + Zenkaiger: Super Hero Senki”…

Takishima: Kekera’s Shundo is in “Kamen Rider Amazons”.

Takebe: Shinji Kasahara was a guest role in “Amazons” too, but in terms of Toei shows, “Mirai Sentai Timeranger” was before then.

Takishima: Girori’s Oshinari too, he appeared in a movie for “Kamen Rider Wizard” directed by Nakazawa.

TTFC: Speaking of connections to Director Nakazawa, Haruka Kudo from “Kaitou Sentai Lupinranger vs. Keisatsu Sentai Patranger” appeared as a guest in the summer movie.

Takebe: In that sense, this year had a pretty big group of returning actors, but everyone was happy to lend us their help for as much as they wanted. Everyone certainly delivered performances that exceeded expectations. If you think about it, the framework of taiga dramas and serial dramas depends on their many returning actors, but in tokusatsu, the mental images of the characters performed are strong, so it’s hard to call back people who were playing former regulars. Of course, even though new people are cast in the lead roles, Yu has many reliable abilities in alumni, so there should be no difficulty with calling on those people again. So, Takishima and Yoshikawa, whatever work you help with from now on, I want you to talk to the cast members that you met in “Geats” when the time comes. Also, we didn’t talk about action very much, so… I think the greatest outcome left to talk about from “Geats” is its action. The two treasures of the show are action director Fujita, and (Hiroshi) Nakata, who played Geats.

Yoshikawa: I’ve been watching the Kamen Rider series for more than 20 years, but I’ve never seen action that cool. As a Rider superfan, I really enjoyed seeing action that was still new to me. The shots that Fujita did were amazing, and Nakata’s Geats was always sexy.

Takebe: We always worry about how to do action and what to do to make things feel new. When I enter the position of Chief, I have to find a replacement for last year’s action director: (Michihiro) Takeda for “Kamen Rider Kiva” (2008), Fukuzawa for “Go-Busters”… Fujita in “Geats” was that kind of aim. There were a lot of times we said “You’re doing your best with the action”, but I think we were able to revolutionize action in Rider thanks to him, and it had a big impact on other works too. Like, for example, the ikemen boom at the time of “Ryuki”, and the popularity of voice actors and suit actors for “Den-O”— those things “change” and “are changed,” spreading to the Sentai and Ultraman seasons that started there. I think that these tokusatsu programs establishing new practices is how you say they “changed”. There’s been a reaction to the new “beginning” that Geats’s action created, and I look forward to the action that Fukuzawa will build on it with in “Gotchard”.

Takishima: I think it’s good that there’s a cause-and-effect with Fujita’s action. In the script, you write the beginning of battles and which side wins in the end, but you don’t really point at minute details related to physical movement or the items they use. Because of this, Fujita makes up everything that happens after the battle starts. The enemy weapons are troublesome, so they block the arms a lot, or they took a hit and lost their balance, but at that rate they barely escaped on their feet, things like that. Without the fights onscreen stopping, the “battles” have temperature and are always incredible. [TN: she made a pun on the word for “battle” sounding similar to the word for “warm”] Like Geats and Buffa’s fight in episode 32, I thought it was their final battle. Honestly, at the beginning, I wondered if they would get short of breath somewhere if the fights were this densely packed.

Takebe: It was amazing from episodes 3 and 4 and onwards.

Takishima: That’s right. Well, I thought he was trying to do a special showcase for the start of the program, or a one-time highlight reel, but it just kept going.

Takebe: Fujita really thinks about things thoroughly. So when the summer movie arrived, he seemed tired since it was at the same time as the TV series, but he wanted to do the summer movie himself no matter what, so I respected his wishes and let him to it.

Review F: Reiwa Riders Continuing to Battle

Takebe: We have staff capable of filming the new actors in interesting ways on Rider sets. I think that filming the famous experienced actors well isn’t as difficult because they have their own potential, but truthfully, it’s challenging to make the newcomers look good. However, the first episode of each series is made possible with the director, the cinematography team, and the lighting team. When you add in the fact that they support those actors as they grow, I can seriously respect them and say, “Our company’s staff is incredible!” with honesty. But there were times when even the main characters Keiwa and Neon didn’t appear, and Ace couldn’t let his guard down even though he was the star (Laughs), but how did the cast handle this?

Takishima: About that, the one I worried about most every time was Dai Gotou. He would check a new script and go “Oh, Daichi is still here! Thank goodness!” (Laughs). Compared to Gotou, everyone who played the main Riders wasn’t worried about it.

TTFC: When the series continues like this, it might become a tendency of sorts for them to not worry about it. Like, “I guess this important of a character won’t die.” Of course, it’s still interesting to have exceptions.

Takebe: After all, during “Kamen Rider Ryuki” 20 years ago, it was different in many ways. That time there weren’t exceptions, so when the next script came, the first thing everyone did was check if they were alive or dead (Laughs). They had a hunger for success. That’s something you need to have in order to grow, so we want today’s kids to have that knowledge too.

TTFC: Over the last 20 years, the ways viewers regard TV itself have also changed. Because of that, us at TTFC are also supported by a lot of members, but there’s also an established way to enjoy streaming dramas.

Takebe: To get them to continue watching one-year-long TV series, you can’t make careless decisions. It wasn’t like this in the old days, but now there are already plenty of attractive media outside of television, so we have to do things to advance against competition. Kamen Rider is a strong brand, but that alone isn’t enough to get people to watch it. The way we make trailers and things like that are planned out to the furthest extent possible. We can’t let them forget about the show in the week leading up to the next episode. Even if it’s not the best, they will continue watching it if it continues to stay at the top of their “recommended” lists. To this end, we did everything we could within the production, and we also did everything else we could to promote the show and create buzz. So I also asked Takishima and Yoshikawa to keep working on it. In the extreme, you can start anywhere. If you know about the work “Kamen Rider Geats” and you’re interested in it, we get you to watch it. I’m realizing that this effort has never been as important in the past. Our time will be up soon (Laughs), but do the two of you have something you want to talk about?

Yoshikawa: Because it’s the first work I’ve been in charge of, I think there are still many parts I’m not helpful for. But the other day, when I went to drink together with Director Nakazawa, he said, “As for Kan’s growth, you’ve become a good mentor for him”. Without thinking, I asked, “Director, are you drunk already?” (Laughs), but I was already crying. Kan was a good guy, and I think I had good chemistry with him, but to hear those words coming from the main director of my first project… I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.

Takishima: You might be nominated as “the person who mentors the lead actor” in the next work you’re involved with too (Laughs).

Takebe: Director Nakazawa is incredible too. I think he also saw that point. After all, he has a wide field of vision over the people he works with.

Yoshikawa: I already talked about my personal history, but I was really happy with the many Kamen Rider names I devised. Beginning with Tycoon, then Glare, Gazer, and Regad. Because English is my specialty, I was also entrusted with the English translation of the Desire Card in the opening and the like. As a big Kamen Rider fan, “If I died tomorrow, I wouldn’t regret anything. And even if I did die, Tycoon’s name would remain!” (Laughs). It was truly a privilege to be part of this year.

Takebe: You also came up with the message at the very end, “Ace with us”.

Takishima: I have the character songs.

Takebe: The character songs! People seem to think that I do the character songs, but I don’t (Laughs).

Takishima: Taking advantage of the fact that Takebe has that reputation in the work she’s involved with (Laughs), I made a lot. I’d only worked on Sentai shows up to now, so it was my first time working with Avex, but they also had a wide range of artists. The music producer (Mayu) Iida is also very good at taking charge of the ordering process, and the ideas I conveyed to her were realized as songs at a terrific resolution. While discussing the lyrics, I came to understand the characters better, and it was fun work. All of the directors paid great attention to the music videos they made too, so I’d definitely like the fans of “Geats” who are reading this to check them out.

Takebe: Everyone in the cast will be singing in the nationwide Final Stage as well, so please also look forward to that. Speaking of, the other day there was a lot of excitement in the summer movie’s Kansai campaign. I was surprised by that, but at the same time, it made me happy.

Yoshikawa: Kan is from Kyoto, so he probably said “I’m home!” in his speech (Laughs), but really, there was so much excitement that the meeting hall shook.

Takebe: I’m relieved that “Geats” has provided good results in television ratings, box-office scores, and toy sales. Especially the second half from the beginning of the year onwards, which saw an increase, made it worth everyone’s effort. When you’ve been in the profession for this long, you see some cases where the hard work doesn’t amount to anything, so… in that sense, I’m extremely grateful. Even though we’ve announced the Final Stage and V-Cinext, there are still many other “Geats”-related projects in the works, so I would appreciate your continued support!

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Bro said Isagi is too plain /j LMAOO ok but I kinda see what you mean?? Like maybe it’s because he’s got the most normal background out of everyone that unless you’re super interested in him it’s kinda hard to find something build off….like everyone at least has something unique about their background that adds a little extra depth (like injuries, medical things, bullying, etc) but he kinda just had the model life besides losing his match LMAO

Stop that ego idea Lowk…..no ok but I’m gonna read through that and imagine his bug eyes staring at me and lose it LMAOO

Ok but when you first told me you didn’t really like the itoshis I was kinda flabbergasted because I was like wait….is this the same person who wrote cherry tree????? If you hadn’t said anything I would’ve assumed you were a Rin fan because of how well it was written LMAO I was already super excited seeing the 6k wc but now after everything else I’m like oh yeah that’s on the lower side for Mira LMAOOOOO

NO FR please fill in the lore holes…..don’t let this end like jjk……I need to know…..you know they really should just hire us as oracles like we know what’s good!!!

I recently got badgered into watching haikyuu and it’s SO CHILL compared to bllk HAHAHA still enjoyable though!!!! But bllk honestly kinda reminds me of the kuroko’s basketball with the battle like aspects of it so I’m sure the hype will keep increasing!!!

Putting my trust in kaneshiro because he usually cooks!!! I’m ngl I’m kinda sick of seeing Kaiser Isagi and Rin though SHOW THE OTHERS

And THANK YOU WHAT A GOD SEND but OMGGG ITS THIS ARTIST!!! I RECOGNIZE THIS STYLE!! Pause I’ll translate this im gonna do Left to Right Top to Bottom

Karasu in Hiori’s Body:

1 - The one with his finger pointing up

Karasu: “The hell are ya lookin at?! There’s nothin to see here idiots!”

Someone else who I assume is Hiori: “Hey you shouldn’t use your middle finger…”

K: “HAH! IF YA LOOKED CLOSELY YOUD SEE IM USING MY INDEX FINGER!!! YOU SHOULD DO THINGS WITH MORE THOUGHT!!”

H: IM BEGGING YOU STOP WITH THAT FACE!!! YOURE DAMAGING MY IMAGE!!”

2 - the hair scene: He’s arranging his hair with a bunch of wax just like usual

3 - face pulling taunt image: Karasu is unsatisfied with Hiori’s stiff facial muscles and small mouth

K: This idiot’s mouth is so small he’s like a baby chick

4- With Isagi: Hiori usually assists him so when Isagi had to face him in a strength/muscle battle his brain glitched.

K: As if I’d let you move around

Hiori’s thoughts: Karasu-kun’s pretty dexterous huh, he’s already moving around.

5- smirking:

The immeasurable damage (to the heart) of a rare scene is very healing

K: As usual, when you fight on your own your feet get stuck. So mid.

H: ISAGI!! STAY COOL! THATS KARASU IN MY BODY!! I WOULD NEVER SAY THAT!! BREATHE ISAGI BREATHE!!

Hiori in Karasus body:

1- kicking: Even with a different physique, his dexterity allows him to continue playing without any problems. His only thoughts are “His legs are pretty long…I wonder if they’d break”

2- hair down:

Hiori, who doesn’t lift a finger to adjust his hair.

H: Does anyone have clippers or scissors? This hairs gettin in the way

K: Wait a damn minute ya dunce!!!

3- smiling:

H: Hahaha yer so dumb, what are ya even doing?

K: OTOYA’S FOAMIN AT THE MOUTH??!!!

4- With Otoya:

H: I couldn’t pass anywhere but there….sorry.

Text: A toxic looking face vs a sincere apology and behavior of someone who tries to compromise with others

Otoya: “…………..ah……..yeah……….its fine…..”

Everytime he says “I” (in a less aggressive tone) Otoya does a double take

Someone: Otoya’s got a hell of a lot of goosebumps!! And that face of rejection is insane!!!

- Karasu anon

i think a combo of that + him being too nice off field makes him a bit difficult for me in the same way yuki is but whereas yuki at least has medical trauma isagi is just chilling 😭 idk maybe one day i’ll be struck w inspiration for him 😰 but yeah out of everyone in bllk who i’ve written for i’d say he’s been the hardest character for me so far!!

NAH BECAUSE IT’S LOWKEY FIRE I CAN’T LIE…maybe young ego when he got enough sleep was fine af 🤔 imagine we get his backstory and he’s the most gorgeous man ever who literally puts yukimiya to shame HAHAHA that would crack me up…ego would be the ultimate side character to write about though because honestly i don’t even think there IS an ego nation 😭 there would be two readers fr (you and me)

LMAOO omg not the undercover itoshi non-fan 😭 pls i actually did start bllk for rin so i must give my king credit but he was a gateway drug to nagi and karasu fr…the day people stick more to his canon than fanon personality is the day i’ll wear my rin stan badge w pride ‼️ and YEAH i always forget that 6k is actually quite a lot of words…like people will post that they got carried away on a one shot and for them that’s like 1-3k words but for me getting carried away on a one shot atp means 15k+ 😩 anything between 5-10k is the normal range and anything less than 5k is quick and short!! but i’m also a wordy gal so 😰

i think i watched one ep of hq in 2020 and just couldn’t get into it!! i’ve heard good things abt it so no hate just wasn’t quite the show for me. i’ve also heard knb is good!! it’s another one i haven’t watched…tbh i’ve watched a very random assortment of animes 😭 but not that many unfortunately i’m not very good abt sitting down and watching tv it’s very rare for me to start a new show (one of my mutuals on here had to convince me to start bllk because otherwise i wouldn’t have…all because of a rin fanart i reblogged 😩)

I’M BORED OF THEM TOO maybe because none of them are my favs…i trust kaneshiro though all of the other matches have been super fun to read all at once so i’m sure it’ll be the same for bm vs pxg!!

MY TRANSLATING GOAT 😭🙏🏻 i hope it didn’t seem like i was trying to get you to do that or anything HAHA i just didn’t know if the caption was smth freaky or not…like pls don’t think i’m crazy i promise i have no idea what it says 👹

[vamptoll]

Ok, so a MASSIVE amount of the research on Video Games is focused on the (IMO) silly use case of using games for education.

And like I have my somewhat esoteric academic reasons for why I don't like this (Basically boiling down to 'I prefer culture studies ') But more importantly I just don't think it works.

Games are by their very nature designed and created systems. The limits you put on the game to teach the player something is not going to teach them anything they wouldn't already be able to see by just reading your rulebook, or even better, just reading the text you read to design the game.

Here's some examples from my high school experience. In Bio class we had a little exercise where a bunch of stones were thrown around an area. 1 species can only eat Red stones, but the other species could read red and blue stones. Everyone would wander around eating, and then every year the species that ate more got to poach the members of the other team. And by the end everyone was the species that could eat both! Which taught me... That eating more is better than eating less? Evolution?

What it's teaching me about ecology I already knew. I know what evolution is, and by just reading the rules I could figure out the only reason FOR the species changing rule is to emulate reproduction. Actually going outside and grabbing stones isn't tearing me anything (but it's nice to like, leave the classroom! And to Socialize! The best parts of games is just the fact that it's something else instead!).

Ok now let's talk about a game that did teach me something. The board game diplomacy is one of the best designed games ever, and it's commonly used by history teachers throughout America. To teach... WWI? It does a terrible job of that to be honest, there are no rules for alliances, and it's not like random events (like an assassination...) jumpstart any parts of the game.

What it teaches students, I suppose, is the harshest version of the realist view of International Relations, a perspective I don't really believe anyone who isn't a fascist holds any more? What I learned from it, though, was the perspective of seeing like a state: how nominally independent nations are quickly turned into satellites, how despite being enemies it was vital to keep open lines of communication with every other power, how the map itself functions as a symbol of Imperial Power.

Which is all well and good! I think the game is fun, and it DID teach me things!

But I only learned them because I'm a weirdo. If I wanted to teach someone else this, I would just assign them the critical theorists that have written out the same ideas, except they're talking about reality instead of translating everything through the lens of game design.

Because this is the important thing- what I learned from the game was how the game obfuscates lived reality. How it was not truth, but instead each rule was a simulacra of the truth and could be obviously seen as so.

Which is a terrible goal for education, which does not aim to teach students how everything someone says to you is a contingent aspect of their beliefs and should not be uncritically adopted- bc if this was a goal then it was only teaching students to disregard education all together.

I mean, it's fun to imagine a cute little article about "We wrote a game where the goal was for students to realize the rules are all fake" (and funnily enough that game would actually succeed at accomplishing something a reading couldn't!!!), but that cute article isn't gonna change what educational video games are.

Which is that they demand upon the student that they accept the reality the designer has created, accept it as truth, and that this acceptance is good for them; by the end the student will be a better more knowledgeable person so they need to accept the rules.

And I realize this sounds like I'm against all education ever on moral grounds,and like, not exactly. But games have a problem. If you write in a textbook "Columbus discovered America, Yay!" A student can go "That's bullshit". Very easily! It doesn't destroy a lesson plan at all.

Meanwhile if you make a game about the age of exploration that frames all indigenity as a minor element unimportant to the creation of knowledge by the colonizer, a Student will have a much harder time saying that's bullshit. Because if the student says that, the entire lesson for the day gets fucked because you can't play the game if you think it's central premise is bullshit.

So the student likely won't say anything, because going along with things is the natural human instinct, and in the end all your game accomplished is teaching students to acquiesce. I mean, it really boils down to the basics of pedagogy. If education is good, it's value is in turning the students into individuals who can do the thing the teacher can do. What education too often IS, is instead teaching students how to be model citizens.

(There are some good use cases! Sending out archeology 101 students to a dig site is a pain in the ass and probably not that helpful so a game to teach them the basics is a good idea. I mean, is that a game or just a simulation exercise? Ehhhh whatever but I can see the value! But teaching students the stages of empire through a game??? No that's lame and Bad. You're making the students accept a world-view that is an Open Question!)

[twilightmalachite]

Raison d’être - The Nameless Girl 5

Author: Akira

Characters: Shu

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Right, mhm… You have my thanks, Ryuu~-kun."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Apartment in France

Simultaneously, at the house Itsuki Shu is boarding at…

Shu: Yes, it just arrived.

Allow me to check the contents…

What’s that reaction for? Do you think me to be a primitive man incapable of using the tools of civilization?

I too am capable of using a PC. Yes, I’m currently in my room at the house I’m boarding at, and checking the file attached to the email.

Still, how quick. I am surprised to see the diaries’ translation into modern Japanese was already completed just yesterday.

Hm. I have no interest in ES programs and the like, so I hadn’t known—

You guys, AKATSUKI, are currently running something akin to an educational program about Japanese history, right?

So while keeping some circumstances of the matter a secret, you asked a historian you had met in the process, and it amused them so much they stayed up all night getting it translated for me?

Hmm. Quite the godsend, isn’t it? Rather, having a friend who has a wide set of connections is quite valuable.

As for me, when you said you had an “someone in mind”, I personally thought you were referring to another member of AKATSUKI…

No, not Hasumi. That Kanzaki child.

He comes from an old-fashioned family, doesn’t he? In families like that, you are made to decipher and read aloud texts and the like that have been handed down generation to generation.

So I assumed he would be familiar with translating old books. Right, I used to be made to do that as well—Although I hated it.

Right. Although I hated it, Grandfather had scolded me, telling me there was no harm in remembering, and that I should be using every brain cell I had… Alas, that is all that I remember.

To me, Grandfather was always an angry god who would watch over me from the heavens, raising his voice and casting down thunderbolts when I’d sin.

…I shouldn’t be talking about him in the past tense. The angry god is still alive and well, so I shall make the effort to not spoil the mood.

Shu: Right, mhm… You have my thanks, Ryuu~-kun.

Hm? The historian that translated the diary mentioned something that caught your attention? What was it?

Huh? That’s… Just what on earth does that mean?

No, I don’t know. Even if I wanted to ask him, we are still not allowed to visit Grandfather.

Hmm, so it’s currently just speculation… I will keep that in mind while I continue to look into it.

Mhm… But I’m sure you must be in the midst of your own troubles, much like Nito.

Do not keep worrying about me forever. Do what you need to do.

You’ve always been overly meddlesome.

Shu: Mhm… Look after yourself, now.

Farewell my friend, ‘til we speak again.

Shu: (….Hmm. Just what on earth is going on here?)

(Things aren’t adding up…)

(I asked the landlady, who should be familiar with Grandfather’s past, but she has no idea who this MADEMOISELLE person is.)

(According to the historian that Kiryu had asked… There is the possibility that these two dairies in our possession are completely fictional.)

(Perhaps it’s nitpicking, but… There are things such as a couple odd depictions in the historical context.)

(It is stipulated how the word “mademoiselle” is banned from use in official documents, and instead women must always be addressed as “madame”.)[1]

(There are details such as that that Grandfather would have no way of knowing decades ago.)

(Things such as “Even though the times are changing, but I shall always call her Mademoiselle”.)

(Did Grandfather predict the future with his characteristic foresight? Or was that part of the diary added later in his life?)

(But that would be quite unnatural too… If this diary was written more recently—)

(Then the speculation that this is a novel of fictitious events would be more plausible.)

(But, then who would Mr. Raffaello be?)

(If these diaries really are fiction… That would make him the child of a nameless woman who appears to be fictional.)

(If the landlady, an old acquaintance of Grandfather, does not know of her existence, then she most likely is “someone who does not exist”, a character created by the author of the diaries.)

(And if anything, it would explain the peculiar immortality this “MADEMOISELLE” has.)

Shu: (But if “MADEMOISELLE” does not exist, then how could she have a son?)

(One simply could not exist. It is as strange as claiming to be the child of Snow White or Cinderella seen from fairy tales.)

(No matter how much one may long for a fictional entity, you cannot have a child with one.)

(Such a thing is unachievable by mankind, even with what modern science can do.)

(There is a clean line between reality and fiction, only in our heads do they intersect. And on stage, temporarily.)

Shu: (That ought to be the case, but—Ahh, reality wavers.)

(Is this truly real? Or is this someone's dream, someone’s imagined story?)

(…A foolish fantasy?)

(Thinking about it realistically, the conclusion drawn would be Mr. Raffaello, who has learned of the diaries’ content some way or another, is playing a trick on us for some reason.)

(The motive would be, of course, Grandfather’s inheritance. Mr. Raffaello being a con man attempting to cheat us out of Grandfather’s inheritance through believable lies.)

(Is that the case? Then it would have been what I had first suspected!)

(…But if that is not the case, then what does all of this really mean?)

[ ☆ ]

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1. In early 2012, France officially ordered the removal of the use of “mademoiselle” in official documents, as it is a term used exclusively for unmarried women and was quickly becoming outdated term, as it held problematic connotations such as inferring that a woman is more “valuable” once she is married, and so on. And the male equivalent, mondemoiseaux, is basically unused anyways.