#is really just a necessary part of community building

[glypt0don]

So, this is quite a rant. You can skip to the bottom, if you want to know my opinion but don't want to read that much... But I worked hard on it and I think it's important, so it would make me very happy if you read through the whole text.

So this fits into something I wanted to post about anyway: a broader theme of why do we frame things as wars? Like, why is it culture war, specifically. First I liked the concept, I thought it described something quite complicated reasonably easily. But I pondered on it a bit more and I think there's more going on.

It's pretty trivial, that most societies went through a huge change over the last half century. It's not just feminism. I could make a whole list of things we as a people took on. Anti-racism and civil rights, religious acceptance, global trade, reinterpreting the meaning of peace, connecting the word through the world-wide web, etc. We ( or, as I am barely an adult and have no idea how to change things for the better, I should say you, or maybe chat) decided it was time for change, so change came. You brought it about.

And I agree. Change WAS and IS necessary. What that change should entail, well, we all have our ideas, right? And they have the ugly tendency to differ from each other. The question then is, how do we coincide our contradictory ideas on society? The answer is both worrying and very important.

To be fair, our race doesn't have a great track record on solving these kinds of issues. I dug into my historical knowledge, since, you know, those who don't learn from it, repeat it... The only thing I can compare to what's happening today would be the Reformation (which probably says a lot about my historical knowledge). That's the only time I know, where societal assumptions were altered so much in such a short time. That time it was specifically about the Catholic church (if you don't know, what I'm talking about, you really should, so Google it), and the result was a series of wars, that ultimately may have wiped out about a fifth of Europes population. The wars were of course led by powerful men, who capitalised on the divide to further their own goals.

As back then, now too, we can't rely on institutions to tame the public. Many media and political identities have a direct interest in polarising society. Because that's what happens. All these contentious issues about gender, class, or foreign policy become dividing lines between folks who are supposed to be parts of the same whole (call it community, state, nation or humanity, depending on how wide you can think). You know, how it works, probably saw it a few times, whatever your interests are. It's literally everywhere! We fight it out with the perceived enemy of the week sometimes, when there is an election, something notable happens, or it's simply Pride Month. Then everyone goes back to their respective corners, where they vehemently agree with themselves. We don't talk a lot, just throw words at each other, like Buggs Bunny, playing tennis with a dynamite.

I should say, this post is a notable and refreshing outlier. Thanks, @trans-androgyne , for starting a discussion for a change!

I know, it's a bit like nuclear armament. You can't just stop, because THEY won't, and then they win, and you can't allow that. It's life and death! And I don't have some magic pill to make it all go right, or believe me, I wouldn't sit here, typing this out at 3 in the morning Central European Time. But let me propose this: don't call it a war! Neither culture war, nor gender war, nor anything like that. Because this isn't a war. Just ask anyone in the middle east! They can tell you, what is war, and THIS IS NOT IT! And also, because it may not be guns and destruction yet, but nothing guarantees, that it stays that way. We already had multiple attempted takeovers of capital buildings since this cursed decade began, because our social reality became so fragmented, that you can't accept the results of a popular election anymore. That should raise alarm bells. I know it does, but it can be much worse! Learn from history, do not repeat it! Hit the Wiki page on the Huguenot war! On the siege of Magdeburg. Or, if that's not your cup of tea, watch Civil War! I genuinely think it's the best movie of the year.

Call it Social Discourse! That sounds much more manageable, doesn't it? Or you can come up with something else, as long as it isn't some warmongering bullshit. And maybe the next time you meet someone with sexist, homophobic, racist, or maybe radical left and anarchistic views (whatever you're opposing), don't attack them with your words! Those aren't weapons. Try to talk to them instead! Try talking about feelings! Listen to theirs, make them understand yours! I say feelings, because you both have those. Try finding a common ground, however small, and build up from there. Like Minecraft Skyblock. It can be hard in a challenging way, instead of making you want to shoot yourself in the head. Remember, you aren't fighting a war. You are having a discourse.

All of it is to say, the world and society are changing, wether you like it or not, and we have to change with it, to survive. That is the simple fact. If you call that change a war, that's just gonna make the whole thing unnecessarily painful for everyone involved.

This was sociopolitical advice from a giant armadillo.

Genuinely, what happened to “feminism is for everyone”?

That’s the feminism I grew up with: encouraging people to recognize that fighting sexism and restrictive gender roles helps folks of every gender. We’d push back on the idea that feminists hate men, pointing to inclusive feminist literature and how many men are feminists.

Now, there are so many people insisting that the solution to patriarchy is to openly hate and ostracize men no matter what. Why? What is the benefit? It’s certainly not effective in fighting oppressive structures to exclude half the population from your cause on the basis of immutable traits. It may feel cathartic to say horrible things about men and try to punish them for your frustrations with patriarchy. But the only actual effect I see is the increasing right-wing radicalization of young men, who are being told that the left hates them for the way they were born and presented with an abundance of proof that it’s true.

Why are we going back to treating men and women as different species? It doesn’t fix things to say “well women are the good gender and men are the bad one” this time. If you sincerely want to dismantle sexism, you’re going to have to unpack and let go of all sex and gender essentialism—even that which considers women inherently pure and men inherently immoral.

[headspace-hotel]

i'm...thinking about writing a book?

I mean. I feel really silly at the thought because i'm not like a scientist or anything, i'm barely at the beginning of my knowledge journey, but...being a writer was what I always wanted to do. It's what I've been doing ever since I could remember. And I'm constantly, constantly just so full of things that I want to tell the whole world. I will have a realization or idea and think, oh my god. Everyone needs to know this. But I can't tell everyone. I'm not good at talking.

I'm good at writing. But I will sit down to write a post on my silly little blog and get so overwhelmed by the SCALE of everything I want to say.

I think I've already started to write a book. I think the space for these ideas to fill is already the size of a book and it will never have any smaller of a size, and no one else will come along to write the book, and no one else CAN write the book, and IT HAS TO BE WRITTEN.

I want to write about the ways of the plants, of course. I want to teach how to transplant and how to gather seeds and the properties of keystone species...but more importantly, I want to write about how to learn the ways of the plants. I want to promote the habit of insatiable curiosity and intense observation. I want to show everyone that everything everywhere is infinitely interesting and mysterious, and if you pay attention to the plants, they will teach you.

I want to write about Symbiosis. I want to write about how we are connected to every other thing, how we have our own ecological niche as Caretakers, and our own special adaptations of curiosity and love. I want to write about how the ecosystem needs us to participate in it, not to cut ourselves off from it, and how our powerful influence on ecosystems can be for good or for bad. We are not a disease. We are a Keystone Species.

I want to discourage this Euro-centric idea that sees humans as separate, and recommend more reading from indigenous points of view that understands ecosystems better and sees humans as participants in nature, engaging in a reciprocal symbiotic relationship. I want to speak against all this talk about removing humans from half of the Earth or reducing the human population, and show other people that despair and fear make you paralyzed and powerless, but hope is powerful.

The most important and powerful thing you can do for your ecosystem is to love it. It is necessary to have hope for the future—to learn to imagine a future of restoration and renewal, and to build community with other people working toward that future.

If we don't imagine a future for our ecosystems, imagine them boldly and audaciously in ways that feel crazy and impossible, those futures will not happen. But just the act of saying, "This WILL happen. We WILL be okay." gives you the strength and energy to fight and it gives you the creativity to come up with solutions you never could have thought of before.

And I feel I have to explain, how did I end up listening to plants? And how did the teachings become so important that I had to write about them? There's this black, swallowing abyss underpinning all of who I am, some intimation of a reality so terrible the human spirit breaks beneath it. I had a mental health crisis back in 2021 where I was pulled deep into that abyss, and when I started rescuing little plants and caring for them, I was basically re-learning how to be human.

I feel like I was seeking answers to "How am I supposed to live in this world?" in the natural world because the human world of poetry and books and articles and think-pieces had utterly failed me in that regard. I had taken multiple poetry classes where I had read all the best contemporary poems, and all the poets just wrote flat, plodding, blunt descriptions of their trauma and despair. Nothing is wrong with these topics, but the worst part was how these authors didn't even take themselves seriously; they had to be detached and ironic about their own pain, like a snarky dystopian novel hero who jokes casually about the horrific reality they live in so the reader knows that this reality is normal and unremarkable to them—and even more importantly, that the hero is ironic and cool instead of responding in a vulnerable, human way.

And speaking of dystopian novels...there were a lot of those! It was like all the visions of the future I had read were dystopian. Even I had been writing a dystopian novel. But I realized that I wasn't wise enough to tell that story yet. I didn't know why at first. But then, as I was reading everything people were writing about climate change, I began to realize.

I saw a lot of patterns between the way people wrote about climate change and the tendencies of self-harm and self-defeat that gnawed inside me. Suicide was something that I had never struggled against, but I understood that suicide was only the most striking manifestation of a self-annihilating way. Sometimes you feel like by hurting yourself, you are being transgressive, exercising autonomy against an absolute, crushing reality. It doesn't have to be physical hurt; it can just be deciding no one will like you and denying yourself love, or thinking "Well, there's no use hoping for anything good to happen."

This is how people talk about climate change. They fantasize about extreme, horrific scenarios and talk as if the Earth is already dead and destroyed, and they talk about humans hatefully and as if they were a disease, and then congratulate themselves for seeing how bad it REALLY is instead of being in denial. It is easy for people to get attached to this and even get mad when someone suggests there might be hope, simply because self-harm can be very psychologically reinforcing.

It is common to call these responses "climate grief." But as I came into this very simple and quiet yet profound encounter with Nature, she had an answer to this philosophy that was perfectly gentle and placid and yet caustic enough to strip paint:

"HOW CAN YOU WISH FOR THE STRENGTH TO GRIEVE THE EARTH, WHEN YOU WERE NEVER STRONG ENOUGH TO LOVE IT?"

I realized, with a breaking heart, that I had always hated and resented my back yard and my home town, because it was an ugly place that seemed to me "Already destroyed," and my soul ached for woods and wilderness.

It had taken me 20 years to fully admit my love of nature, because I felt like there was no point in acting upon it—everything would get destroyed anyway.

I had not been brave enough to love the woods across the road, the creeks and the hills, because they were so fragile in a world that didn't respect them, they could be destroyed by some housing development at any time. So I just accepted that it was already a lost cause.

But it was time to be brave enough—not to accept despair, but to choose hope.

To grow up, first we had to become strong and get rid of silly beliefs like hope and fairness and love. But now, we have to become even stronger and start believing in those things again.

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? Part 3

In which your best friend comes back to you. But is it too late?

Warnings: oof the angst. swearing. that's it. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Word Count: 2.5k words

(a/n: this is how i cope after that hot mess of a race today. i hate everything and everyone except for my pookie bear lando norris)

- What's A Soulmate? - Part 1 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2.5 - Master List

2021 You keep your promises. 

2022  And then he started dating her. 

2023 Silence.

March, 2024Australia 

“We are so excited to have you join the team.” Your new boss beams back at you as you follow her through the corridor. “Thank you for making the flight at such short notice. Had we known Summer was going to quit so abruptly, we would have had you come out with the team earlier in the week.” 

You nod, adjusting the collar of your new papaya and black polo. “Of course, I’m just happy it all worked out.” 

The heat of the Australian sun beats down outside the McLaren hospitality building, but inside the air is cool and dry. You’d landed in the country last night after what felt like the longest flight you’ve ever taken from New York into Melbourne but were so happy to be back in the paddock after what felt like ages. 

“Like we discussed earlier in the month, you’ll be working with Oscar as his primary press officer. I’m sure you know what that entails and everything, not much has changed since Carlos was with the team, but if you have any questions you have my number.” Brenda smiles down at you as she hands you your new McLaren issued iPhone.  

Three weeks ago, you had graduated from NYU with a double degree in public relations and business management. One week later, you had accepted a job offer from McLaren to join the communications team working with Oscar. Between your dual degree and experience working in the paddock with your brother, the job had been a slam dunk for you.

“The boys are just finishing up some filming up stairs. Let’s go up and introduce you to Oscar. You already know Lando.” She says, with a bit of a smile. Your friendship with the Brit was well known back during the years you were still working with Carlos. No one knew how much it had changed since though. 

Nerves fluttered around in your stomach as you follow Brenda up to the second floor where you could hear Oscar and Lando loudly laughing at something. As far as you knew, Lando was unaware that you had taken a job with McLaren. You had asked Carlos and Charles to keep your new job quiet around the paddock, not wanting to create drama before it was necessary. This was certainly going to be a shock, you knew that. 

The last time you saw him flashes through your memory, quick and painful, as Brenda approaches where Oscar and Lando stand each holding dry erase boards. 

Early 2022

“What do you mean she doesn’t want me around?” You nearly laugh, the absurdity of what your best friend is telling you not fully computing. 

Lando grips the back of his neck, eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Our friendship makes her uncomfortable.” 

Now you really do laugh. “What friendship, Lan? I’ve barely seen you this year!” 

It was the truth. Ever since you had started classes in New York last year, your time to see your best friend had dwindled down into nearly nothing. You went to as many races as you could but going from spending nearly 24/7 with your brother and Lando to barely seeing them once every few months was more painful than you had anticipated. It hurt so much to watch him continue on, seemingly so unbothered by losing you, but this? This was the last straw. 

He had been dating the Portuguese model for a bit now and you had to admit, she was pretty and wonderfully nice. You truly had no issue with her, having met her once at a Grand Prix you had attended before classes had started this year. She was quiet, sweet, and obviously adored Lando so her being with him was fine with you. You wanted to see your best friend happy. But now? Now she was threatened by someone who wasn’t even a second thought in Lando’s head? 

You had spent the last few months desperately trying to believe that Lando wasn’t pulling away, that he wasn’t purposefully putting distance between you and him. Texts would go unanswered, calls went unreturned. You had chalked it up to him being busy and adjusting to having a new teammate but now you guess you had the truth: he was avoiding you. 

“If that’s what you want, I’ll respect your wishes.” You murmur, taking a step away, suddenly wanting nothing more than to retreat back into the Ferrari motorhome where you could nurse your embarrassment in peace. 

“It’s not…” Lando fumbles, but you know what he’s about to say isn’t true. This is exactly what he wants. 

“No, I get it Lan. She’s threatened by me. I respect that and I’ll make myself scarce this weekend. You and her won’t have to worry about me anymore.” 

The pain of your words slices through Lando. He hadn’t wanted to do this, far from it. But the fight that she had started last night when she had seen you in the pit lane laughing with Carlos and Charles had put him in a tight spot. You were his best friend, but she was his girlfriend. He owed her the respect, right? Even if he knew that nothing was going on, nothing could happen. It wasn’t in the cards for the two of you. 

“I’m sorry.” He says. 

“Me too, Lan.

You blink rapidly, erasing the painful memory from your brain as your boss steps towards Oscar and Lando, who are watching you approach. The look on Lando’s face sends your pulse skyrocketing. It’s a look that’s somewhere between surprise, confusion, and maybe even a bit of betrayal and you hate every bit of it. 

“Oscar, I wanted to introduce you to your new press officer. She just landed last night so I’m sure she’s a bit jet lagged but she insisted on getting to work straight away. She’ll be taking you around for media duties after FP2 today so be nice, okay?” 

“I’m always nice.” The Aussie says, soft smile on his lips. “It’s nice to meet you. Lando talks about you all the time.” 

Your eyes dart towards Lando, who is still somewhat glaring at you like he can’t believe you’re in front of him. He talks about you? Still? Your stomach does an involuntary somersault at this bit of information, blush creeping its way high up on your cheek bones. 

The phone in your hand chimes with a reminder. Oscar is due to an Australian media outlet in ten minutes for an interview. “Well, that’s my cue.” You turn to the girl that had been filming the segment with a friendly smile. “Is he good to go?” 

“He’s all yours!” 

With permission to leave, you turn on your heel and walk towards the staircase, Oscar in tow. Lando watches after you, still struggling to process what just happened. You worked for McLaren now? As Oscar’s press officer? He had just played padel with Carlos this fucking morning and he hadn’t said a single word about this. Surly Carlos had known about your taking the job so why hadn’t he told him? Did you not want him to know? Did you hate him so much that you didn’t even care if he knew or not? How had the most important person in his life become someone he just used to know once? 

That last fight before he…said some of the the most shameful thing he’s ever said flashes through his mind as he wanders down to his drivers room, suddenly needing a break. 

“You literally never shut up about her. ‘She does this.’ And ‘she does that’. Jesus Christ, Lando you could not be more obvious about it.” The anger in her voice had set his teeth on edge. “And now I have to sit and watch the, what did they call you guys? The Chaos Gremlins? Now I have to sit and watch The Chaos Gremlins be reunited for the entire fucking weekend and just sit back and take it?” 

“There is nothing going on between us.” Lando insists, running his hands through his curls. “I haven’t seen her in months. Months!” 

“But there would be if she was here, right?” 

He had no answer for her. Because she was probably right in her assumption. If you had stayed, Lando had no idea what would’ve happened. 

“It’s her or me, Lando.” 

The rest of the day passes in what feels like the blink of an eye. By the time Oscar is done with all of his interviews at the end of the evening, you feel dead on your feet. You’ve lost all sense of time, feeling like you’ve been hit with a truck and you want nothing more than to get back to your hotel room and sleep for the next 5 to 10 business days. Or the last free practice tomorrow afternoon. 

The Uber to the hotel takes far too long but just as your eyes are about to shutter closed in the back seat, you arrive and drag your near lifeless body up to your room. A quick shower is all you have the energy for, desperately needing to get the germs of the day off and then, you’re in bed, blissfully tucked between soft white cotton sheets watching some weird Australian soap opera. 

Your eyes are heavy when the alert dings and you nearly ignore it, assuming it’s Carlos checking in. He could wait until you saw him tomorrow. But a quick glance shows you it isn’t Carlos. 

You don’t fully understand why you gave him your room number. Not when the only thing on your mind is going to sleep. This is probably a really bad time to have such an important conversation too but a part of you, that part of you that never stopped hoping that maybe one day your best friend would come back to you, that part of you wanted to get this out of the way so you could move on, with or without him. 

Ten minutes later, there’s a soft knock on the door and you haul yourself out of bed, still bone numbingly tired but also strangely keyed up with nervous energy. This would be the first time you had really spoken to Lando since that night two years ago. Sure, you two had exchanged pleasantries when you found yourself in the paddock for a race weekend but most of the time you kept to yourself in the Ferrari garage and motorhome, making sure your presence wasn’t noticed by anyone outside of your brother and Charles. 

Tugging on your favorite NYU crewneck, you pad towards the door while willing your racing heart beat to slow. This is fine. This is going to be okay. You two needed to talk if you were going to be working closely this year so this had to happen sooner or later. 

The door swings open and Lando stands in front of you looking just as exhausted and devastated as you feel. 

“Hi.” He breathes, hands wringing together. 

“Hi Lan.” You sigh. 

His smile widens at the nickname and you open the door a bit wider to allow him in. You cross the room, settling on the king size bed before staring up at him. “You wanted to talk?” 

The pain in his eyes cuts such a deep slice through you, it’s a wonder you don’t start bleeding out on the bedspread. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” He crosses the room towards you, setting every nerve ending in your body firing. He’s too close and you can’t control yourself when he’s like this. 

You shrug, wondering how you’re still able to hold yourself together at this point. “I didn’t think you’d care.” 

Lando drops his gaze away from you then, shame and anger surging across his handsome features. “Of course I’d care.” 

“You didn’t when you chose her over me.” 

He drags a hand over his face, the look of misery that sits on his face is reminiscent of the night you told him you were moving to New York City all those years ago. The memory brings a surge of white hot pain that cuts you so deeply it steals the breath from your lungs. If you had known that this was where you’d end up, you didn’t know if you would have made the same decision. 

“And listen, that was fine, I guess. You had to respect your relationship with her but the most confusing thing was afterwards. Why the radio silence after?” You fold your hands into your lap, unable to meet the gaze that you feel so heavy on your skin. He’s practically begging you to look at him but you simply can’t. 

“I was ashamed.” He admits and you feel the tears prick at the back of your eyes, a hot and painful sting that reminds you of how much you’ve lost. “I was ashamed at how I treated you and couldn’t face it.” 

“Rightfully so.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs while reaching for your hand. “I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I should have told her to fuck off for making me choose between her and you. I should have chosen my best friend and I’ve regretted that decision every day of my life since.” 

The fact that you’re finally hearing the words you’ve been dreaming of hearing for nearly two years hits you like a ton of bricks. Here he was, your best friend, finally apologizing and owning up to his mistakes and for some reason, it felt like it was all just too little too late. How many nights had you stayed up, sobbing on your living room couch with your roommates over the stupid boy who was mean to you? Wondering what you had done to make him treat you like this? Hadn’t your friendship meant more than what it had ended up being? 

And now, here you were, back in his orbit again and it just…didn’t matter. You had spent so many nights wishing this would come and now that he was finally taking responsibility and owning up to his actions, it just didn’t feel like it was enough. 

“I think you should go.” 

“What?” He stutters, fingers gripping yours almost desperately. 

“I am exhausted and need some time to process this Lando. And you have quali tomorrow, you need to be focusing on racing, not on our issues.” 

“I don’t give a fuck about racing.” He bites out, blue eyes turning stormy gray with anger. “I want to fix this.” 

“This isn’t something that can be fixed with a single conversation.” 

You didn’t even know if it could be fixed at all, if you were being honest with yourself. 

“Then I’ll keep going until it is fixed, I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Lando.” You warn, rising from the bed. “I need to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Lando feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest. He had never intended for your friendship to end up like this. It just…slipped away from him and he was so swept away by his lifestyle the last year that he convinced himself you were both better off where you were instead of together like the universe intended. He had been so scared to admit how wrong he had been, choosing her over you that night that he had allowed it to spiral so out of control it might never come back to him. You might never come back to him. 

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16 @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00

[theabigailthorn]

Do you think you’ll ever write a book, either philosophy related or maybe memoirs? I really love your content and your ideas and would love to know more about how you organize your worldview.

FUNNILY ENOUGH

I've been seriously considering writing a book about the way the NHS treats trans people, and more broadly about institutional pathologisation in the current global moment we're having. I've had meetings with some big publishers, even drafted an introduction and proposal, and gotten offers back!

BUT

I don't think I'm going to do it, for a few reasons. In no particular order:

Writing a book about that subject might raise the consciousness of a few folks, but does it help build material power for trans people against my country's healthcare system, and the other systems that subjectify trans people globally? Not really, no. In fact it would legitimise the elite media consensus that engaging with elite media is the path to achieving change. Books aren't just books, they're "media events," and accordingly they increase the power and prestige of the media they happen in. If I wrote this book, newspapers would review it, chart it, I'd be invited onto Radio 4 and shit to "debate" and "discuss" it... Does doing that actually help get medicine into trans people's hands? Not really! Writing books and "getting ideas out there" is pretty busted as a theory of change unless it builds power. The fantasy of writing a really good speech or article or book and suddenly the scales fall from cis people's eyes is just that - a fantasy. No minority group has ever gotten change or justice that way. All that would happen is I'd "enhance my brand" - which means that I, with my private education and privilege and opportunities, would make money and get clout whilst contributing to the elite capture of trans rights as a political struggle. I'd become "a leader in the community" and get invited to some dinners and media events and blah blah blah - meanwhile the violence continues. That media event would also enhance the brands of those cis-dominated media outlets and the "having conversations" industrial complex, who are part of the fucking problem! The struggle should be led by the poorest and most vulnerable among us and link up with other material struggles like resisting immigration raids, prison abolition, decriminalisation of drugs and sex work, etc. So I could likely do more good for my community by donating my time and money to good causes and also by some uhhhh... other stuff - let's call it 'direct assistance' - which I already do and find fulfilling.

The offers aren't that big! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Writing that book might do harm if it's co-opted into ongoing right wing attempts to dismantle the NHS and all trans care. It'd be intellectually satisfying but not creatively satisfying or fun. I'd have to immerse myself in a very bleak world for a long time: I would enjoy having done it but not the doing.

It'd ruin my career. Right now I actually fly pretty under the radar of a lot of my country's nastiest transphobes. That would end if I wrote a book about the NHS. Newspapers, editors, publishers, journalists, and probably some MPs and Lords would become very invested in tearing me down. I've seen it happen to queer writers and journalists before. Remember, Britain is a small country and our media is run out of one city by a very small group of people who all know each other and who also know all our politicians, in some cases because they're literally the same people! That book would be like kicking a hornets' nest. Maybe they'd come after me publicly, or maybe it would be more British: somebody would make a quiet phone call and I'd suddenly be radioactive. Bye-bye acting career, bye-bye any public career.

For related reasons, writing that book and doing the necessary media campaign would expose me to a WORLD of harassment and shit from some of the worst people in the universe, which I frankly don't want. That might include lawsuits.

My dream job is to play [REDACTED] in [REDACTED]. Writing a book wouldn't take me closer to that. It would cement my brand as 'trans educational writer' instead of 'actress and writer,' which is what I am.

So yeah, all in all, I don't think I'm going to do it. Not right now anyway. I reserve the right to change my mind. Think I'll write a screenplay instead!

[nicnacsnonsense]

Yes to all of this! Stede wanted a community where people would be supportive, caring, responsive to each others needs. A community where everyone can be soft or “cringe” or societally non-conforming and still be accepted for who they are. Since he could not find such a community, he decided to build it himself. And this absolute mad lad actually pulled it off.

Talk it through as a crew (not for me, though, just for you)

I know we give Stede a lot of grief about being emotionally constipated. He insists everyone “talk it through as a crew” and promotes and encourages everyone else’s emotional honesty, but has never met a feeling he can’t repress. He has all the emotional transparency of a particularly robust brick wall. But can we talk for a minute about how literally everyone in his life has led him to believe that sharing his feelings is not to be tolerated, much less encouraged?

From the first flashback we see of little baby Stede, he’s being taught suppressing his emotions is the correct course of action. He has an obvious honest emotional reaction of fear and disgust when his father beheads the goose right in front of him, blood spattering his face and clothes. He gasps and turns away, squeezing his eyes closed, and burying his face in his hands, whimpering. His father instantly and coldly chastises him for doing so. “Open your eyes, child. This is what a man’s work looks like,” Father Bonnet says. “Your natural impulses are wrong, actually; suck it up, buttercup, and be a man” he means.

By the time we see him at school, Stede’s peers have upped the ante. Instead of just a sharp reprimand for daring to find happiness in a flower bed, the other boys reward his transgressive joy with physical violence - chasing him down, lashing him to a rowboat, and hurling rocks at him for sport. The message is clear; softness and weakness are not to be tolerated. Any trespass is to be hunted down and beaten out of you.

Once we get to his engagement, we can see the effects the long-term application of enforced emotional suppression has had on Stede. The hesitancy with which he suggests, “I just... I thought that when I did marry it could be for love,” is heart-breaking. It’s almost a question rather than a statement. He’s tucked into his corner of the very narrow carriage, not even letting his arm brush his father’s lest he invade his space. He doesn’t even LOOK at his father until he’s done speaking. Yet even as meek as his request is, he's still met with a derisive sigh, as though his father can’t believe his son STILL doesn’t know better than to indulge in these emotional extravagances.

Everything we see of Stede’s childhood is angled at showing him just how much he needs to deny and hide his true self to be found even base-line acceptable. Social obligations before self interest ALWAYS. Bend yourself to fit, or we will BREAK you into the right shape. Make yourself smaller. Learn to want less.

Is it any wonder that Stede enters the married state almost entirely emotionally checked out? He’s learned the lesson well that his only safety is in suppression and self-isolation.

Sadly, once he’s married, things don’t get much better.

I want it to be clear that I’m not blaming Mary for her reactions to Stede’s indifference and distance. Anyone would be frustrated if they tried to make the best of a sub-optimal situation only to find the person who is supposed to be their partner doesn’t seem inclined to contribute much of anything to the proceedings. Unfortunately, the ways in which Mary vents her frustrations reinforce the lessons of Stede’s childhood.

We have no context for her reaction to Stede’s comment about Arthur at the dinner table - perhaps it’s the first time he’s bothered to say anything in a conversation that she’s single-handedly kept going for some time - perhaps they had an argument earlier and this is the first thing he’s said since - perhaps they had established a turn-based answer system and he was stepping on someone else’s turn. But whatever the reason, by refusing to acknowledge him and very pointedly moving on, she’s signaling that his participation is not welcomed. By association, his preoccupation with soft and kind things is judged just as unacceptable here as it was to his schoolmates.

The reticence with which he introduces the idea of taking the family to sea calls to mind the same hesitancy with which he posited the notion of marrying for love. His voice is soft and he positions himself below Mary in an almost supplicating posture, mostly looking at her out of the corner of his eye. In his mind he’s proposing a way to make the family situation in which he feels trapped work - finally contributing an idea about how to make the best of their sub-optimal situation. In Mary’s mind, it’s yet another instance of him tuning her out, hot on the heels of his clumsy, half-insulting reception of the painting she had been so excited to gift him. It’s perfectly understandable that she loses her temper and yells at him, but doing so only serves to shut Stede down as surely as the childhood castigations he suffered at the hand of his father. Immediately his body-language becomes withdrawn and shuttered, hands folded in front of him and head down, and his speech becomes higher-pitched, halting, and hesitant - hiding as much as he can lest he further provoke her.

Is it any wonder he pretends everything’s fine when Mary later makes the opening salvos of an honest dialogue about their feelings about the marriage? She’s shown him that she’s not a safe person with which to share his honest feelings. So it’s the old routine instead - learning to cry silently so you don’t bother anyone with it, or worse, get yelled at for it. Breathe through your mouth so they don’t hear how stuffy your nose is. Make up sufficiently plausible excuses to give them the option of ignoring what they might have heard if you get caught.

Stakes get even higher once he’s gone to sea. Stede wants to try a new, more gentlemanly sort of piracy, and approaches his crew as “supportive, caring, and responsive to their needs” - the kind of emotional support he wishes he had been afforded. How distressing it must have been to him, then, to learn these were the exact reasons his crew was contemplating mutiny. That because of his emotionally supportive approach, they viewed him as unacceptably “weak… craven, [and] ill-equipped to lead men.”

After the accidental death of Badminton, Stede learns that the situation is even more dire. It’s not just mutiny on the line; according to Olu, “everyone up there wants [Stede] dead.” The only way to avoid being murdered and to earn the respect if his crew is to suppress his emotions, and pretend the most traumatizing thing that has ever happened to him is not just fine, but on purpose, and something to be proud of.

So of course “talking it through as a crew” applies to everyone except Stede. The crew have expressed that they are literally willing to mutiny and murder him if he lets his real feeling be known.

Alas, even Ed is not a wholly safe harbor for Stede’s emotional expression. Upon their first proper conversation, after Stede awakens from his stab-wound induced fever-dreams, he is able to safely share his secret passageways and wardrobe indulgences with Ed, but when Ed later introduces the theme of “feel[ing] trapped’ and Stede clearly starts to physically open up, and hesitantly starts to share: “Yes. I have... I very much have felt that way…” Ed is so caught up in his own shit that he doesn’t realize that Stede was on the verge of confiding something even more intimate than his hidden wardrobe. Stede has learned well how to make himself smaller. He gives Ed room to rant, but his own confessions go unvoiced.

There’s a similar mechanism at work prompting the miscommunication that leads to the tragedy of the season. After the kiss, Ed is jubilant - caught up in the excitement of the moment. He starts spinning his grand plans, and doesn’t recognize that, in deference to Ed’s exuberance, Stede is Not Saying some very important things. Multiple times during the exchange, we see Stede looking away from Ed, his body turning away, his brow furrowed and his lips pressed together. This is not the face of enthusiastic consent.

Even when he says yes, he’s excited and smiling, but his lips are so tightly pressed together there’s no way he could say any of the things he very clearly needs to be saying.

So, yes. Stede could be better at expressing his feelings before they get so overwhelming that they explode out of him. But before he can do that, he needs to have a space where his emotional well-being and possibly his very life are not imperiled by doing so. And I really hope he gets it next season oh, my very dears, because I want a Stede-in-the-bathtub scene to mirror Ed’s. I want it like burning.

[reason-with-the-underdog]

you were not mine to save -> to be loved is to be changed

i keep thinking about how

if you boil down alhaitham & kaveh's akademiya-era fallout fight, it was that alhaitham wanted to change kaveh & kaveh could never agree with his proposed course of action

but now, as full grown adults, alhaitham isnt trying to change kaveh anymore

that core conflict does reoccur, as it did during Parade of Providence when alhaitham lectured kaveh after Act II & kaveh got annoyed

(even though Alhaitham was obviously just worried about kaveh's health/wellbeing...)

this is a common pattern of behavior for them: alhaitham is worried about kaveh & kaveh reacts defensively to it

which speaks to how stubborn & hyper-independent kaveh is

despite being someone who's dedicated to giving back to the community and contributing towards the larger social good, he's quite determined on his own path in life

he'll bear the consequences (ie bankruptcy) all by himself if necessary...! and he's much too stubborn to be talked out of his own decisions

i dont think there was any possible way kaveh could have walked away from the wrecks of the first build of alcazarzaray and still be at peace with himself

and kaveh even admits he was naive (in his teapot dialogue), but he doesnt regret it still even now

so i think its cool alhaitham realised that there's no point in trying to convince kaveh to change who he is

such is kaveh. kaveh will not be someone different, not even for alhaitham. his work & altruism are parts of his core identity

why fight a mountain who will not be moved?

instead, alhaitham goes for more "harm reduction" strategies:

help cover kaveh's bar tabs, which means he's also the one lambad calls to pick up kaveh & see kaveh home safely

snark at kaveh when he's ranting about clients to keep him in a righteous mood instead of getting depressed

there's a quote about how to be loved is to be changed....

and alhaitham certainly has changed so much from that smart-mouthed student who had pinpointed what he thought was the root of kaveh's overbearing altruism and figured he could fix kaveh's problems with that knowledge!

to now as an adult with a lot more life experience: alhaitham knows that kaveh isn't his to save

and the more he tries to force kaveh to changing, the more likely kaveh is to dig his heels in

alhaitham doesnt need to be kaveh's minder or overbearing best friend--

he wants to be kaveh's partner, his equal, which means respecting kaveh's choices for what they are

anyways kaveh's drowner analogy works rly nicely for this core conflict between them (changing people vs supporting them and protecting them from harm)

& i cant believe its canon

i really appreciate this aspect of their relationship too-- it feels very mature & realistic...

how easy it would be if you could just TELL someone how to fix their problems!

its very frustrating to see someone you care about run straight towards problems again & again...

but you can't change someone's mind bc you want it to be that way. they have to decide on their own, on their own volition, and to truly believe in their decision, for the changes to really stick

as much as it sucks that you can't just solve people's problems for them

the human experience is so much richer for all of our different perspectives and ideas and principles that will not be compromised bc someone else wanted it to be

you can't control people's thoughts & that's for the best (also alhaitham's SQ is literally about this lmao)

[parkjayssi]

✦ PAC : ONCE UPON A FAIRYTALE

which romance trope do you and your fs belong to?

like & rb if resonates i'm a beginner in tarot so please take everything with a grain of salt it is a general reading so only take what resonates

WARNING: a bit of nsfw in pile 1, nothing too explicit

🔥 | pile one!

THE TROPE : ENEMIES-TO-LOVERS / RIVALS

if you got this pile, goddamn, i shall say the sexual tension is high af. this trope isn't necessarily how you'll feel about your fs but it is for the small percentage of people out there. as for the others, it is merely small rivalry, not anything major. or maybe you both meet through or during some kind of competition. even a school test, yes.

you both are so bound by your duties/work and have a want to do the best. this is exactly the trait that will bring you both together. there will be ups and downs due to either/both of you being stubborn and sticking to your own plans. communication is definitely necessary and so is understanding. high possibility that you two might also break up because of this huge ego problem that either of you might have in order to rekindle.

as for the bond between you two, let's just say you both are willing to devour each other. i'm not kidding. interpreting the shufflemancy messages really said "i want you, but i can't admit that because i have a huge ego." like they want you so bad, it's not funny (and so do you). even during the small squabbles lies this high need of just riling each other to see if you both end on the bed or not-

SONGS CHANNELLED FOR THE TROPE:

🌟 | pile two!

THE TROPE : SOULMATES

whole. some. that's it. this is something the majority of this pile would be with their fs. for some of you, twin flames too. but this pile is beautiful because you would feel that your fs/ you is/are a shooting star, fulfilling the wish to be loved, genuinely.

it feels like everything was planned from the start and you both wouldn't regret it. either of you might have been going through a whole ass storm in life before an umbrella magically appears. this storm is meant to be a trial to build a strong foundation together in order to face it head on.

as for the bond, it's really sweet and warm. it's like those indie romance movies where just a glance between the leads would send a warm tingle in your body. you both are so supportive of each other and make sure to take care of each other. it feels like spending time near the fire on a cold evening. my favourite pile <333

SONGS CHANNELED FOR THE TROPE :

💓 | pile three!

THE TROPE : BLIND DATE / LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

a new beginning, and a perfect one at that hmm? that's the perfect trope for you and fs, pile 3. getting over an ex probably seems a major theme here, or just getting over something and starting something new and exciting. it screams "right person at the right moment"

the best part is right off the bat, sparks fly high and it feels more than a crush even if you've known the person for a single day/date. not to mention, the majority of your fs's are charming, their personality makes you dive down a deep hole, damn. but being rational is necessary and taking everything slow seems to be the best option, otherwise the hole might suck either of you to darkness.

as for the bond, you both might be a bit secretive but it's honestly better this way. you both are willing to listen to each other's opinion and make sure to encourage each other. can't really pick much up since both of you like to keep your private life a secret. but nonetheless, you both are adorable <3

SONGS CHANNELED FOR THE TROPE:

[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

[hyggetrait]

🚑 Welcome to the White Willow Memorial Hospital 🏥

Functioning Hours:

Open 24 hours a day, 7 days week. 

White Willow Memorial is an integrated healthcare system providing quality care to local and global communities of the Sims world. Located in the central point of Magnolia Promenade, White Willow Memorial is acclaimed for its excellent care teams and specialist. With around the clock emergency room, two state of the art surgery room, a pediatric office, and a birthing suite for any expecting patient, White Willow Memorial staff is prepared to take the best care of you and your loved ones.

Gallery Id: NicoleSimblr (check the ‘include custom content’ or it won’t show up). Click here for the lite cc version.

Finally able to share the long-awaited hospital build. I hope you all love it and it lives up to your expectations! 

Floor plan and additional information, including CC list and how to set up birth suite below. 

Floor Plan

Important Information

Enable bb.moveobjects when placing down

I tried to playtest as much as I could for birthing experience but did not have time to try out with the doctor career, so I apologize in advance for any hiccups.

I used gshade preset spring bubbles by jayica, so colors might look different for you

Please tag me if you use this build, it makes me so happy to see my lots be part of your sims stories! 

This built was primarily made to be used with pandasama’s birthing mod. I recommend potentially removing the door (or locking access) to the pediatric room and the doctors office in the second floor to ensure your sim sticks to the birthing suite. 

Speaking of the birthing suite, if I want my sim to have a regular birth using the pandasama birth mod, then I start off with the default hospital bed already in the room and when the time comes to deliver I go into build mode (bb.enablefreebuild) and switch the hospital bed for the surgery machine. If you want to go c-section route then use the birthing suite up until its time and then go into the surgery room (I recommend the one at the very end of the hallway which has the baby decor)

CC Information 

Note the “*” denotes the costom content that is not required for functional gameplay but just simply decor to add more realism. Essentially, House of Harlix, Pierisims, and Tud’s CC are must.

Tuds - 2nd Wave Set (Couches all over the hospital)

Pierisims - The Office, MCM (for offices)

Harrie - Octave, Brownstone, spoons (windows, bookshelves, clutter)

Harlix - Livin Rum' (table), Tiny Twavellers (wallpaper)

PandaSama  - Birth Mod (for sonogram machine)

CharlyPancakes - The Lighthouse Collection (books in offices)

Awingedllama* - All sets (used plants for clutter)

Brazen Lotus - Party Poppers (balloons in maternity suite)

Aeonpixels *- Medicare Ads (not necessary but recommend for posters around hospital & meternity suite)

RVSN* - Skewl is Kewl (school board, not really needed just a detail)

Syboulette -Hippocrate Set (simlish service navigation sign in hallway and ambulance (note this is very high poly, you could just get a makeshift one from the gallery like I did for the cc lite version!)

[its-jaytothemee]

A Blanket of Bear

Read on AO3

Word count: 1,098 one shot

Tags: Halsin x reader, fluff, fluff without plot, ear nibbles, soft Halsin

Summary: Halsin refuses to take a break since the two of you returned to Thaniel's Realm. Luckily for him, you always know what he wants without him needing to ask.

A/N: Just some more Halsin fluff that nobody asked for but you all definitely need. A quick one shot from a prompt in a discord server. Enjoy some tooth-rotting marshmallow fluff and ear nibbles.

Bedtime must have been an ordeal tonight.

You sit in your bed, book in hand, waiting for Halsin to finish his nightly rounds with the children. Normally, you’d be there helping but he insisted you get the evening off. The past week or so had been a long one. Two of the old buildings in Reithwin were crumbling beyond repair, causing a significant delay in rebuilding. On top of that, a couple of the children dared each other to eat spoiled mushrooms, causing a fever to spread through many of them. Then today, you found out that the new berry patch you had started a few weeks ago had been infected with a blight and had to be burned away.

You’d really hoped to have fresh berries to top the honey cake you planned to make for Halsin’s birthday.

Over the sound of the fire crackling in front of you, you hear the soft clack of your cottage’s door opening and closing. The familiar sound of his footsteps causes you to mark the page you were reading before setting it to the side. Not a moment later, Halsin is standing in the doorway.

“My heart.” He has a tired smile on his face, his eyes look heavy, and his shoulders are drooping.

“What is it, love?” You hold your hand out, inviting him closer.

“Just the fatigue of an old druid trying to keep up with eighty-some children.” He takes a deep breath before coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Then you should have let me help you.” You reach out and gently stroke his back. “You know, I could always give you an evening off as well. I’d say you more than deserve it.”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary. Besides, I shudder to think what chaos the children will cause should I fail to deliver a bedtime story.” His affectionate chuckle makes you feel warm from head to toe. He would never admit it, but he was tired. As much as he adored the children in their care and how much he believed in their cause of building this community, he just wouldn’t admit that the past months had also exhausted him to the bone.

“I can tell stories! I’ve told many, you may remember.” You cross your arms, a playful scowl clouding your face.

“Yes, usually with my help if I’m not mistaken.” He smiles that perfect smile at you, the one that makes your heart flutter, and your cheeks redden.

“Well, you do have the best voices for the monsters, my love.”

He leans over and presses his forehead to yours before placing a light kiss on your lips.

“You’re so sweet to worry about me, my heart. But this task was one I decided for myself, for us. I owe it to you and everyone else here to see it through.”

“Halsin,” you reach up to tuck a runaway hair behind his ear, “you don’t have to be everything for everyone every second of the day. You’ve spent more than enough time feeling responsible for others. Let someone take care of you for once.”

“Well, that’s what I have you for, is it not? The only person in a century to give me the chance to sit and enjoy nature once again.” He kisses the back of your hand before staring back into your eyes. Those gorgeous, hazel eyes have seen every part of you, loved every part of you.

“Of course.” You smile back at him, knowing exactly what he wants right now, although he’s never willing to ask it of you.

You scoot back in the bed to lean against the headboard, a pillow propped behind your back for comfort. A knowing grin tugs at his lips from the movement. You hold your arms out, inviting him to come lay against you. He turns his back to you, snuggling himself between your legs, laying his head on your chest.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, letting your hands rest on his chest. He takes a few deep breaths as he relaxes into your embrace. With every stroke of your hand across his torso, he melts further into you. You slowly trace your fingers around his shoulders, the lines and grooves memorized from your nights together. He mirrors the light touches on your thighs, sending shivers throughout your body.

Halsin nestles himself further in between your legs, his warm body a comforting weight pinning you down. You know that if you can get him to relax just a little further, he’ll easily drift into a trance in your arms.

You continue your gentle massaging, easing the tension in his muscled shoulders and earning you soft, content sighs. When you run your hands through his hair he leans further into your touch.

“My heart?” He asks with the tired tone of a child fighting a nap.

“Yes, my bear?”

“Would you…” He trails off, still not willing to ask for anything for himself. You smile to yourself, thankful that you know what he wants without him needing to ask.

You pull him closer to you, once again wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Despite his size, he always feels so much smaller when you hold him like this. Like he shrinks himself down to fit into your embrace better. You lean forward a little so you can press a kiss into the skin where his hair meets his neck, just behind his ear. Slowly, you move your lips to his ear, grazing them up and down the edge, every now and then pausing to nip in the spots he liked – the pointed tip, the lobe. Your gentle nibbles cause little bumps to rise up all over his skin. You let your lips wander up and down his neck before coming back to his ears, those perfect kissable ears. Alternating between kissing and nipping his earlobes and nuzzling your face into his hair and neck, you hear his breathing slow down and you notice his eyelids have stopped fluttering.

 “I love you, Halsin.” You lean forward just a little more to whisper the words to him.

A small murmur escapes his lips, cutting through his trance to make sure you know he feels the same. “I love you, my heart.”

He may not be willing to take an evening off yet, but you can sleep soundly next to him knowing how relaxed he is in your arms. Knowing that at least for tonight, he’ll rest.

And how lucky for you to fall asleep with your loving bear as a blanket.

[findyourlovely]

Lots of speculation on when these two fell in love in the original timeline— here’s my personal head canon:

Michonne falls for Rick when he kills the claimers. I always felt like this was true and when Danai confirmed it I just knew I could trust their vision with the new spinoff. I started shipping Richonne together in the “must’ve been something else” era but I wasn’t actually expecting AMC to have the balls to follow through. but Michonne’s “you’re okay because I’m okay” moment sparked the hope that this relationship was really happening, just off the symbolism of what this moment meant for her.

She’s never felt like she had someone who could step up to protect her but Rick fully proves himself in that episode. That is a man who would do anythinggggg to protect his family. She doesn’t judge him, she understands he did what was necessary. And after the way she lost Andre, she could never trust her heart to a man unless he had that level of grit to protect his own.

I think she’s consciously aware of her love for him as they entered those gates at Alexandria. She doesn’t tend to initiate physical contact with Rick, but this moment with him and the kids in the car is an exception. This is her recognizing exactly how hard this journey has been for Rick and she knows that he did it anyway. For her. He lets her lead him into the future and she’s starting to wonder if it could be one where maybe they build something together for real(it’s already real she’s literally a mother to his kids and his closest confidant and he stares at her ass at every opportunity).

Ricks shenanigans with Jessie set things back but I still think she already knew her own feelings. It’s just not something she would let herself really think about until they’re in a stable place.

I think for Rick, he starts to fall in love with her after she tracks them back in S4. I don’t think he knows it yet but the way he slid down that door in happiness cannot ever be anything but loverboy behavior. This man is elated to see her and 100% would have been okay just staying holed up in that house indefinitely. She makes Carl laugh. And the next day he straight up asks her to commit to coparenting with him, so clearly Rick isn’t trying to risk a separation ever again. Michonne’s presence restores his hope. And he loves watching her sweet relationship with Carl.

Rick consciously understands the depth of his feelings for her outside those gates of Alexandria(or in the moments leading up to it). Because that man would have never walked into that community if not for Michonne’s sake(not even mentioning the 100 mile march to get there). He knows that well enough to tell her so! And now he tells her he’s struggling with how “the rules keep changing” in part because he knows she’s the one he wants to let in, and the implications of pursuing that are monumental for him and his kids. Who else matters enough for this much self reflection?

Ofc we have to wait for Rick to deal with his PTSD rebound first, but the foundation is right here. These two were already it for each other, they just needed to feel safe enough to lean into it.

Y’all let me know if your timeline is any different.

[myfandomrealitea]

I really wanted to ask you about this:

Do you have any advice of how to develop critical thinking and media literacy?

There are many, many ways you can practice critical thinking, evaluation and media literacy. At its most basic, you can access student resources for lower levels of education like earlier high school years and look at the examples and guidance given there. Rehashing this will often give you a good foundation to build off of and apply.

One of the main aspects of critical thinking involves discerning what is fact and what is opinion. A good portion of media analytics is opinion. What is 'bad' by one person's standards is 'sub-par' or even 'great' by another's. Similarly, the majority of fandom space is opinion-based. The main pitfall of fandom spaces is that everyone wants their opinion to be taken as fact, which is where critical thinking and even basic communication begin to fall away.

"I'm right and you're wrong" and "this is the way it should be, if you do it or think differently, you're wrong" are common roadblocks people run into when engaging with things like media analysis and even basic fandom activities like fanfiction.

'Mischaracterisation' is fanfiction is one popular topic, especially here on Tumblr. What people often fail to recognize is the true creative depth of fanfiction and using someone else's pre-existing characters. Characters as they are in the source material may not make the choices or behave in the ways necessary to activate or validate certain plot material or author intentions in fanfiction. Which is, inherently, one of the main points of fanfiction. Exploring the alternate.

While you might immediately recoil and say "he'd never do that!" you then have to sit back and recognise that that's exactly the point. That this iteration of that character is not meant to directly reflect the source material. Its a re-imagining, a re-interpretation. That doesn't mean its bad. Its simply different.

'Mischaracterisation' is only actually applicable in fandom spaces when someone is trying to insist as a blanket fact that a character would do something or behave in a way that blatantly contradicts their canon behavior, opinions, morals and perspective or deliberately interpreting an action in biased bad faith. It is not actually applicable to fanfiction where creative liberty dictates you can do whatever the fuck you want with a character because you're not trying to claim it as part of the source content.

Questions To Ask Yourself

Am I reacting to [media] emotionally instead of rationally? Is my emotional response to [media] blinding me to the rational or critical approach(es)?

Am I allowing my expectations to get in the way of me understanding [media] fully? Am I forming a biased negative opinion of [media] because it isn't meeting my expectations?

Even if I disagree with [media], do I actually understand it? Can I recognise the reasoning behind choices made or actions even if I don't agree with them?

Am I searching too hard to hidden meaning or purpose in absolutely everything? Can I recognise what is simply passive information/detail and what is active information/detail? (E.g; English tutors saying a character's curtains are blue because they're depressed when throughout the literature its passively reinforced that blue is the character's favorite color.)

Even though I disagree with the statement or opinion shown, is it necessary to argue against it? Is there any benefit to making my counter-opinion known or is it simply a no-end argument? Am I just using arguing as a means of release/fulfilment? Am I treating this person poorly because of their opinion/statement?

Resources

Critical Thinking Exercises & Explanations #1 The Critical Thinking Activity Workbook Early Stage Critical Thinking Games Five Media Literacy Activities Six Media Literacy Ideas

[fuwaprince]

👉👈 Hi friends! I have a long, serious post made just for you(!) that isn't full of spoilers, smut or mooning lawn gnomes. Please read if you can, this is a 💥 mutual aid request 💥

It has been a horribly painful and long while as most people following/keeping up with me know. and in a few days I'm going to be down $1500, which is basically all my fucking $

I can't afford Christmas for anybody, which sucks and I'm very sorry. I can't even take care of myself and haven't been, which also sucks and I'm very sorry

Landlords spontaneously raised rent on me more than halfway through this month as punishment for not getting to my house chores and not communicating, to be totally honest with you. I feel ashamed and awful about it but I didn't want to clean the place while multiple ppl living here had tested positive for COVID and kept walking around unmasked... I am not fully vaxxed because I've been too depressed to get any kind of necessary medical care done and I didn't want to catch COVID in the middle of my finals week for the semester. I woke up to being angrily and rudely bitched at first thing after the last of my finals (I passed at least). It wasn't a humanizing text. Fuck the mistreatment though. Rent is now almost doubled and it won't be lowered

There was no room for negotiation and I truly believe they've resorted to pricing me out of living here because the group of renters psychologically tormenting me wasn't effective (actually- putting a picture of my rapist on the fridge rly was super effective in getting me to isolate myself in my room all day and so was outing me as trans to the transphobic ass neighbors.... But I didn't and still don't have any place better to move out to, like the way they were hoping I would. Yes, I have looked and BEGGED btw)

I want out of here NOW, but I can't leave. I tried and had to come back because it was the best option. I can't afford to stay in a motel/hotel/BnB just to get away from them for a day or two during Christmas. I don't have any friends who I can spend the holiday with either. During the semester, I resorted to convincing classmates with keys to locked buildings to let me crash in them while they worked at night and I would leave before anybody showed up. Now that school is out, I can't do that. I don't have any family I can reach out to for support or friends who I can depend on for immediate help. I have been crying day in and day out for weeks. I have records of it posted throughout my blog. Literally crying for days on end. I'm being so fucking transparent

All that lump of text is to explain to whoever is out there, who might be listening and willing and able, to please consider helping me, if and ONLY IF able. I know times are tough and if you'd rather use your $ for other reasons or just don't have any to spare, don't sweat it and take care! 🫂

I've thought about what I could do for a long time and have helped myself how I can. It isn't enough. I've applied for so much assistance. Been approved and been sabotaged by my inhumane mom (who does not love me) via stealing my legal documents and letters and hiding them for months. My mind jumps to grim places but I'm clinging for dear life to whatever hope I have left that says things will get better. I wish I knew somebody with a business that I could work for. Part of me feels so fucking terrible for asking for help because I feel like a waste of all your resources. I feel like I shouldn't ask, like I really do not fucking deserve help, but there are friends online who care, who I know mentioned being interested in helping in whatever ways they can

So to the people who care to seriously me, I'm ready to accept it: please send me nice words to get through this and feel less alone. It feels pathetic to ask but I would love a nice letter. A nice card even. Kind words of any kind would go a long way. It means more to me than food. I have felt so broken and every day feels like a test to figure out how badly I actually want to live

I'm also leaving my cash app and paypal here in case anybody would like to do more than what I'm comfortable asking but probably very likely will inevitably need very very soon. I will be left with fucking nothing and I will have no idea what to do once rent is paid

Thank you to those of you who have sent love, offered to listen and heard me out. I really wish it wasn't so hard to survive. I'm trying to feel better knowing there are people out there who are also without help and hoping the best, but it doesn't make me feel any better or comforted tbh. I just wish the help was there for us. I wish there was a place to go for spare love, care, compassion, empathy, kindness, humanity, generosity... I need that more than I need $. Call me stupid but that's what I live for. I don't live for paying to survive in terrible conditions. I live for love and to smile with friends

I hope to write back to the friends who have already been so kind as to message me soon btw. I'm sorry for not replying sooner. Your overwhelming support is sincerely sweet and sometimes I cry because I can't believe people are so nice (to me???). It'll give me something to do that doesn't make me feel like dying! :') so thank you thank you thank you *fist bump*

Hope you're all doing as well as you can and that somehow things get better. Hope anybody else struggling like me doesn't make the mistake of isolating like a sick and dying animal. You deserve love. You deserve support. Don't be like me. Have the courage to reach out to the people who care about you for help as early on into your emergency as possible. Don't let your situation snowball because you spend so long trying to figure out if you're worth it!!! This Random Tumblr user is here to tell you that YOU ARE. Sending my infinite everlasting unconditional love. Be nice to yourselves. Be nice to each other. Fuck the hateful assholes who wish I would just kill myself already. Tell your friends you love them. Happy Holidays!!!

And here's a single picture of a mooning lawn gnome at the very end, as a treat! I told you this post wasn't full of it.... It just ended with it 👉👉

[cdroloisms]

my insane c!stageduo headcanon list (incomplete) (aka: communication skills, just NOT these guys' forte, jesus christ)

c!dream never tells c!punz about scrapped lore. if he was really betrayed, after all, it would be more optimal to keep his potential betrayer from knowing what really happened, wouldn't it? if that happened. he's safe, no matter what, really. he has an impenetrable fortress and he's the only one with the keys. let them buy his mercenary, let them pound on his walls. sapnap has been howling outside for months and even with the greenery that's begun to grow in the cracks, nobody has ever managed to step a foot inside. quackity's fake cell had none of the defenses of the real one, he has nothing, just a pale shade of the glory that had resulted from countless hours of building and brainstorming and carving the glory that is pandora's fucking vault out from the sea. the next time they meet, it's almost a month later, and nothing further happens. he's not ambushed. there's no traps, no cells (he would be able to escape anything anyway, with pearls and totems and gapples in his inventory) (he only surrendered on that stage because it was the part to play, not because he couldn't literally make his way out with the gear he had) (he was in total control then. he still is now.) (when wilbur and tommy show up in the prison lobby just a few weeks later, for a second, he still wonders.)

c!dream never tells c!punz how long he was tortured. c!punz's job was to watch and wait. he did. he didn't make a scene of it, of course, and neither did he spend much time on spying on the prison, specifically (there was work to be done, after all. knowledge to gather. time, he found, is a delicate thing, and it would be remiss to not take advantage of the lack of scrutiny that comes with being seen as the server's hero) but part of keeping an eye on the server means keeping an eye on the prison (if anything is compromised, he'll have to take their research and run as soon as possible. they have a hidden base somewhere far out, where he can revive dream if necessary.) he has to watch a little bit closer after ranboo gets locked out, but he knows better than to try and visit--he sees quackity getting in an out, and well, a visitor means there must still be a prisoner to see, doesn't it? the first time he catches quackity visiting is march. the last time he does, it's september, and quackity looks harried as he runs to las nevadas. punz passes dried blood on the prime path a few times. dream tells him things went south, and mentions plans to attack quackity a few months after his escape with a keycard now dangling between his fingers, and so when he tells purpled over half a year later, it's just math, isn't it.

c!punz meeting with c!purpled to tell him about the revenge plan against quackity was behind c!dream's back. the question we get repeatedly in this scene is why punz is the one carrying the message at all, and there's a difference between dream bringing up his torture and how punz was emphasizing how fucked up he got from it. further, while c!dream emphasized how important it was that no one put together that he and c!punz were on the same side after staged finale repeatedly in the finale streams, c!punz was the one to break their cover by reviving c!dream in front of clingyduo when he could've done so in secret after the two of them left, meaning we have a precedent for c!punz being willing to break their cover for revenge-related purposes.

c!punz sees the inside of the prison exactly once before the finale streams. c!dream shows it off a little while after daedalus, before the lobby gets overgrown with stalagtites and vines, before he's scrawled over the walls in ink. he shows off the keycard, the security mechanisms, the lava-filled antechamber, the main cell. punz makes a comment about the blocks of netherite, only a little awkwardly. there's still blood soaked into the chest, permanently. dream mentions that there was a dog that sat there once, before sam killed it.

before the prison, in the experiments that they run once they've ensured the book works, punz dies--actually dies--exactly once as well. he has a better familiarty with magic and runes than dream, who knows enough to muddle his way through enchants and little more than that, and part of the reason why he was chosen in their little trio to be the one with the revive book was his aptitude in more magical things. (dream was a survivalist, not a mage, and punz had a whole secret potion room before pretty much anyone on the server.) limbo has schlatt, and had wilbur, (and schlatt saw dream with his book of moon runes, and ghostbur knew about the revive book on doomsday) and dream was the one, after all, to make his agreements with both--it just made sense for him to be the one to communicate. made sense not to let punz's presence become too obvious, even to the dead--ghosts are real, after all, and not all of them are known for keeping secrets. dream was the one that needed to have lives to lose in their little show, and dream was the one that might need to be revived remotely, if there were any unforeseen issues, and dream was the one that needed to die in front of the server and be carried off into the heart of the prison--where his endurance would be key to their survival. where it certainly wouldn't hurt to be prepared, to know exactly what he may have to survive (i thought i would be fine with raw potatoes) (do you know what that does to a person?, and the warmth of dream's blood on his palms.) limbos change based on the way that you die, and tommy saw darkness, and then happiness that didn't belong to him, and dream--well it wasn't his first time--and punz said, you know, my limbo sucks, (singular). it's simply more efficient to keep one person clear-minded enough to do what needs to be done, and limbo puts you through the wringer. that's alright. punz and dream like efficiency.

dream never stops paying punz.

[lemotmo]

Another really good one, I like this because we're starting to see a lot of this redemption thing in the BT tags. This was a question about Gerard and his connection to Tommy. And now that we know they're not upset about us sharing their answers I feel okay sending it to you.

A. Happy Friday to you as well! Unfortunately, based on your question, I don't think you're going to like my answer, but I promised you guys my honesty so here goes. Gerard is not here for Tommy. Gerard is not here for a Tommy redemption arc. Mainly because we (the audience) are not meant to see Tommy as needing redemption. Tommy is a general audience character. Meaning everything we're supposed to know or care about where Tommy is concerned is what the show told us in season 7. He is the guy Buck is currently dating and he used to work at the 118 before Bobby took over. That's it. That's all the show needs the audience to care about, at least right now. Fandom people are the only ones who remember his exact history, and no offense to anyone, they didn't bring him in for us. He is there to serve a specific story purpose so his individual history is irrelevant. Gerard is there for Bobby, and increasingly I think, Eddie. The Bobby stuff is obvious, but Ryan has mentioned Gerard now in a couple of interviews so I think he's giving us a clue that Eddie and Gerard will be some kind of story.

The Tommy stuff depends on whatever reason the show decides to give for his breakup with Buck. And yes, I do genuinely believe that is what's coming. If he's meant to be the one responsible for Buck figuring out his feelings for Eddie then I don't think his history with Gerard will be brought up except maybe as a scene or two in passing (if it's not necessary for the breakup, it probably won't be mentioned at all). If Buck is the one they want to end things, and have him figure out his Eddie feelings another way, then I think Tommy's past with Gerard will play a bigger role in their breakup. Especially if he tells Buck to deal with him by just keeping his mouth shut, and his head down and ignoring him. We all know Buck won't do that, especially if Gerard makes Eddie a target. So it depends entirely on the reason for their breakup. They don't need Tommy in a ton of scenes to accomplish either scenario, which is good because I do think he will also be filming SWAT and his availability won't be great. If he's supposed to figure out the Buck and Eddie thing, and point it out to Buck, we will need his reaction to at least some Buck and Eddie moments, (or at least his reaction to Buck's reaction to some of those moments), so they might need him for a few more scenes if they go that route for the breakup. Either way I don't see him lasting past the winter finale. Whatever the plan for Buck, I think he'll be ready for Eddie by the break, maybe even before. I think the second half of the season will be getting Eddie ready and then building up to Buddie. I don't see them dragging the Buddie thing out all season but I do think it will be the latter part of the back half of the season. Depending on Lou's availability he may be done sooner than the winter finale. We just don't know yet. But as someone who has watched the show from the beginning I don't know what other direction the Eddie storyline could be going. It's he's queer, or they're writing him as never going to be in love again because he was that in love with Shannon (which would be god awful television), or he becomes a devout Catholic (absolutely not). Those are kind of the only outcomes they've given themselves. And I'm sorry you don't like them, but Buck and Eddie learning to navigate an actual relationship, given Eddie's intimacy issues, inability to communicate his feelings, and his family/upbringing, as well as Buck's abandonment issues and need to fix everything is interesting storyline after interesting storyline. No one will force you to watch. And you're correct that lots of people will be pissed off, but many more would love it. They're very well liked by the general audience, people have got to stop trying to convince themselves otherwise because it's simply untrue. They're popular, people like them and most people would be interested in watching that storyline play out. It feels earned. Earned by Buck and Eddie and the audience. I know this answer has probably upset you and many others, and that is never my intention, but I also don't believe in telling people what they want to hear when the canon events seem to be leading in a different direction.

*chef's kiss* love it love it love it

Hi Nonny, thank you for sending in this really interesting message from the ‘anonymous blog I love’.

For those of you who have missed it, the OP of these very interesting posts on BT and Buddie has contacted me yesterday. They are a BT shipper that also like Buddie and they are okay with me posting their messages. They do however, wish to remain anonymous because they don’t want to attract any more negative attention. Their inbox is probably already a minefield, so let’s not add to their stress and respect their wishes. Thank you.

If you are interested in the OP’s posts, you can find all of their posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

Now, let’s talk about this answer:

The answer above is very interesting to me. They talk about Tommy’s role in the whole Gerrard saga and I fully agree on most of it. They point out again that Tommy is there to serve a purpose in Buck’s story, so essentially he is there as a plot device in Buck’s narrative.

As for Tommy’s role in Buck’s story, I am of the belief that Tommy will be the one to tell Buck to just ‘Keep your head down, your mouth shut and pretend it isn't there.’ as he complains to him about Gerrard and how he treats his friends on the 118. This is something Buck could never do. He isn’t like Tommy, he can’t just accept and tolerate his friends being bullied by their new captain.

I agree with OP that Tommy will probably be gone by the end of 8a. His arc will be finished and the queer Eddie/Buddie arc will be in full swing by then. This arc won’t find its satisfying ending until well into 8b though. There needs to be drama first. And I do believe that there will be a lot of drama before we actually get the payoff of the Buddie storyline.

The fact that Eddie’s arc is most likely to go into the direction of him realising he’s queer seems unavoidable. It’s like OP said: It’s either queer Eddie with eventual Buddie or ‘never again in love’ Eddie. Two options and we all know which one will bring along the most press and a whole gaggle of new viewers. 😉

Now, as a treat, I have a second post from the OP for you today. This was sent to my mutual and friend @buddiebeginz and she has kindly allowed me to use her post on my blog in order to centralise all the posts from the OP. Thank you Justine!

For context I’d like to relay to you why this post was sent to Justine. She received an ask earlier which she replied to here. I urge all of you to read her reply as well, as it was very insightful and I do agree with most of it.

Anyway, someone else sent her an anon ask later on as a response to the post she made. This anon had found a reply from the OP as to why they thought that Tommy is ‘good’ for Buck ‘right now’ and why they enjoy the character’s role in Buck’s story for as long as it will last.

Keep reading under the cut. I didn't want to clog anyone's dash with too long of a post.

Here is that ask with OP’s answer:

I admit I really like this answer. The way they break down Tommy’s role in Buck’s story as Buck having a ‘fun and light’ first experience as a newly out bisexual, before the more ‘heavy’ Eddie and Buddie story will start. I understand it and I can see how that could be some valuable life experience for Buck, so he is strong enough to tackle the next part of the Buddie journey. I can logically 'perceive' that this is what the writers originally intended for the BT storyline.

Does this mean that I suddenly like Tommy and the BT arc? No. Definitely not. And I think the problem can be found in the way that Tommy and BT was written. He wasn't written as a very appealing character. I don’t see the chemistry between him and Buck and I think they don’t fit well together. Their ‘energies’ just don't match. I don't see enough proof of him truly caring about Buck in any of the episodes. So, I admit I can't see the 'light and fun' experience OP talks about. To me Tommy is just weighing Buck down with too much negativity.

And let's not forget about how we were all introduced to Tommy in season 2 and the way he treated Hen and Chimney. The man was never meant to be a 'nice and likeable' character with a questionable background like that. They tried to redeem him somewhat with the helicopter cruise ship rescue storyline, but to me it fell kind of flat.

And yes, of course there is also the ‘Eddie factor’. I have been shipping Buddie for years now, so whether I like it or not, I am biased towards Buddie. I am also not a multi-shipper. I just don’t have that in me. Once I latch onto a ship I never let go. 😊

So yeah, ultimately… different opinions make for more interesting conversations, right? And I love reading about OP’s opinions. Sometimes they match my own and sometimes they don’t, but I still respect them and value their view on 911. That’s what fandom should be about: sharing opinions, respectfully agreeing or disagreeing with each other, listening and learning from each other. It’s so much more enjoyable than sending anonymous hatred to someone’s inbox.

Anyway, once again I ask everyone to not post any hate towards the OP in the comments or reblogs. I do highly encourage a civil conversation about the topics discussed in this post. 😊

[justalittlesolarpunk]

I've been feeling climate anxiety lately. I think it's really necessary to change everything and progress towards a postcapitalist future that doesn't endanger our planet, our Pachamama. But I don't see how that will be possible. What do you think about this?

Hiya, thanks for getting in touch and sorry it’s taken me so long to reply. I get a lot of asks like this so I think I might make this another masterpost. Here’s climate anxiety solutions according to me:

1) Accept your feelings. Recognise that fear, grief, rage and despair are all normal, healthy, human reactions to paying actual attention to what is being done to our planet right now. You aren’t wrong or sick or overreacting by feeling them. Sit with the emotions, allow them to wash over you, cry, smash plates, punch a pillow, journal, write poetry, yell at the news, scream in the woods! Trying to repress these feelings will just make them harder to deal with.

2) Recognise that the paralysis of climate anxiety is not a good place from which to make a difference. Try to let horror, guilt and self-blame go, and lean into the love for people and planet that motivates all eco-anxiety. Start consuming good news stories and keying into activist spaces so that you can learn how others are claiming agency to fight this problem, and how you can emulate that. Remember that despair absolves you of responsibility and that true solidarity with the most affected means letting your emotions drive you towards action.

4) Educate yourself through reading, listening to podcasts, attending talks, seeking advice from elders, and more - whatever works for your particular life and circumstances. The more informed you are about these issues the more you’ll feel able to address them.

3) Make as many changes as you can in your personal life. Are you eating a high-carbon diet? Try to reduce that. Are you consuming a lot of water or energy resources? Look for green and low-intensity alternatives. Examine your transport habits and prioritise walking, cycling, trains, low or zero emission buses, sailing, and replacing longer-haul journeys with remote options. If you live in a throwaway culture, try to prioritise reuse and repair over consumption. Consider how your livelihood impacts the planet, and if it’s negatively and making change is possible for you, start the process of moving towards an occupation that lets you make a more positive difference.

4) Fight! Join a campaign group, write to your elected officials, attend a protest, donate money to causes if you can, commit civil disobedience if you feel willing and able. Put pressure on governments, businesses and the public to change their ways.

5) Prioritise joy and connection. Spend time in nature, watching animals or foraging for plants or swimming or walking or just letting it all wash over you. Link up with other people to talk through your worries, go hiking, lobby for climate justice, safeguard ecosystems and pass down your local heritage. Sometimes, take a day or two to check out of all these issues and problems and just spend time drawing, cooking, playing games with loved ones, or whatever it is that relaxes you. There are enough of us that you can take the time to avoid burnout.

I hope some of this was helpful, and do please get back in touch if you have any other questions or queries. You’re part of a huge global community of people who love and revere the earth and want to build a better future for all life upon her. Hold onto that.