#it's like the first spiderverse movie all over again

[bold-embrace]

They’re besties!!

[angiestown]

I realized recently that it may seem obvious that the use of halftone in my art is inspired by spiderverse but actually it's not I've just never stopped thinking about this burger king packaging ever since I got burger king that one time as a kid in the early 2000s

this isn't even a joke or a lie we hardly ever went to BK and that one lunch I just stared at my cup the whole time I thought it was so cool. if I could figure out how to make my halftone look blobby like that I would

[marklikely]

with movies i love and constantly rewatch there are two distinct modes

gets better and better with each new viewing

"hmm. this is good but not as good as i remember it being" *watches it again* "OOOUGH THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN I REMEMBER IT BEING" *watches it again* "hmm this isnt as good as i remember it being" *watches it again* "OOOUGH--"

[astroboots]

Punch-Out Love

Artwork by @guruan

FIGHT NIGHT

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You're lucky enough to score ring-side seats at a boxing match on Friday night. Getting the best view in the house of boxing champion: Miguel O'Hara.

Word count: 1,500

Next Chapter

Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist 

You know fuck all about boxing.

About the only thing you know about the sport was from the glimpses you caught watching scratched up old recordings of Muhammed Ali fights on the boxy mini-tv of your old childhood friend's house.

It always seemed barbaric. The practice of watching two human beings beat the shit out of each other for spectator's entertainment. It seems like something that was better left in the Ancient Roman times. Have we all human beings as a society, really not come further some 2,000 years later?

Your bestie used to get mad at you for this. Constantly defending the sport from your criticism, because (according to him) it's not just about smashing each other's faces in. Supposedly, there's an art to the sport. Boxers are taught to respect their opponents and adhere to the principles of good sportsmanship. It takes great mental discipline, dedicated work and years of hard and punishing training to master boxing.

You never saw any of that in the matches he showed you. All you saw were two men needlessly being hurt, sustaining brain damage for rich people's enjoyment.

Then again, he was more than a little bit biased, considering it was his dream to go pro one day. Tall and gangly, with his scrawny antelope legs, thick-rimmed glasses and big-ass braces, he looked like he couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag, much less another person. You never understood how exactly he thought he was going to make it as a boxer.

But you never found it in you to burst his unrealistic bubble when he used to point at the screen excitedly, drawing your attention to Ali's footwork and the artistry in it. 

"It's like he's dancing," he used to say.

Except dancing is done with swelling music in the background. In dancing you often have a partner. It's an embrace. It's gentle and kind.

Boxing... was not that.

So you don't know how you managed to find yourself in the ringside seats of a local boxing match on a Friday evening, staring up at the boxing ring with the glaring ring lights shining into your eyes.

"Aren't these seats amazing?" Jess shouts excitedly over the familiar lyrics of ‘We Will Rock You' being belted out by Freddy Mercury on the loudspeaker.

You smile, and nod, because boxing-fan or not, she's right, these are some amazing seats. And considering you didn't have to pay a dime for them, personal aversions aside, you're never going to turn down free stuff.

Jess' husband tested positive for covid at the last minute, and you're the only one in your social circle that is anti-social and single enough to not have any plans on a Friday evening.

On the monitors above you, the menacing headshots of the two fighters swish into view.

"The first guy is an old reigning champ," she explains to you, as she leans in, shouting into your eardrums (and yet you can still barely make out what she's saying over the music). "The challenger is some new kid on the block. Has an amazing track record. Zero losses in the season. He's something else."

You look up at the gigantic screen, at the sharp cut cheeks, strong thick brows and the intense pitched brown eyes staring down at you.

Angry looking dude.

...Handsome too.

With a face like that, surely he could've gone into other careers. Calvin Klein model, movie star, or a news anchor. You wonder what makes a guy voluntarily have his face bashed in for money as a career.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a loud booming voice announces from the stage.

You jump in your seat from the suddenness, as you see a bald and overly formal dressed announcer in the middle of the ring. 

"Welcome to the electrifying boxing showdown of the century! Are you ready to witness some knockout action tonight?"

The crowd around you cheers with a pandemonium of shouting and whistling.

"Introducing our first fighter, a true hometown hero! With an impressive record of 20 wins, 15 by knockout, and only 2 losses, standing at 6'3 feet, and weighing in at 340 pounds of determination and strength, give it up for ‘the Knockout King’ Bobby Kane!"

You watch as the reigning champion walks down the tunnel to the midst of adoring cheers as he waves and gestures at the crowd like royalty.

Every inch the king that he is nicknamed, he jumps over the rope and stands tall and proud over the ring.

The man is huge, bulging with almost grotesque muscles. He's so large that you almost expect each of his steps to send a reverberation throughout the hall, as if this was Jurassic Park and he's a T-Rex.

"Now, entering the ring with the confidence of a warrior, fighting out of the red corner, with 15 wins, 10 by knockout, and no losses, standing at an astounding 6 feet 9 inches, and weighing in at 310 pounds of raw power, let's hear it for tonight's challenger, ‘Steel Jaw’ Miguel O'Hara!"

Wait what? You do a double take at the announcement. Six foot nine?!?! What kind of giant is that?

From the far corner of the hall, you see his silhouette emerge, and your eyes go wide at the sight of him. Tall doesn't even begin to describe him. 

There's a 200 year oak tree at Central Park, and with the shadow this man casts, you think their height must be nearly comparable. If you thought the Knockout King was tall, the "King" is practically tiny compared to this challenger.

You watch, as the man with cheeks so sharp they mind as well be blades (and god never has a nickname made more sense to you) as he strides towards the stage. He reaches the rope and barely even has to climb over it with how tall he is.

He's leaner than his predecessor. Every inch of him is cut muscles and tanned gorgeous skin as he stands in front of you. His presence is electric. The air crackles where he stands, towering over the stage.

You swear that his towering height blocks out the ring lights with it, casting the stage in the darkness of his tall shadow.

Somehow, he's even prettier in person compared to the still image of him blown up and plastered on the big screen. Soft brown curls and pouty lips. You don't understand in what world a man like that is a professional fighter.

From this distance, with the way that the light refracts from his irises, his eyes almost glow with a scarlet red that takes your breath away as you look up at him and meet his eyes.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was staring at you.

The bell rings out, but he's not looking away. The intensity you find there is enough to make you swallow your tongue. Your face prickles with heat and for several long moments you forget to breathe, until the air seems to thin around you and your vision starts to swim.

Then he turns to face his opponent.

You're not quite sure where to look. There's so much happening at once. For his size, Miguel O'Hara is surprisingly deft on his feet. His footwork is somehow both unpredictable yet intentional all at once.

The King throws a strong punch, as he lunges forward, after his tall opponent. But O'Hara dodges them seemingly without effort. It's followed by punches so quick, the movements blur together.

Strike after strike. The King is giving it his all. But none of it properly connects. With every failed hit, you can see him growing increasingly more frustrated.

Your heart is in your lungs, and despite how close you are to the stage, you almost want to get up from your seat for a closer look.

Safe as you are behind the ropes, adrenaline rushes through your veins with a fury. You can't recall the last time you felt this ecstatic about... well, anything.

With each punch O’Hara dodges, you feel yourself lurch back in your seat, trying to dodge the punch with him.

It's titillating.

Exciting.

O'Hara's movements are precise and honed with intention despite the ferocity in his movements. Each one is measured and intricate and if you didn't know any better you'd almost call it graceful.

You think back to those moments in your childhood friend's home, and his excited words buzz in your ears now. For the first time ever you finally understand what he had meant.

It is like a dance.

Before you, O’Hara's eyes cross over in your direction and for a split of a second, you swear your eyes connect again. His gaze holds you there, pinned to your seat, and excitement shoots through the entirety of your spine until you feel lightheaded from the attention.

Then he finally steps forward, no longer evading.

It's brutal and efficient.

An uppercut that connects cleanly to his opponent's jaw.

Spit and blood flies out from the man's mouth, the flabby flesh of his cheek vibrating from the impact as he lands on the floor with an ear-shattering thud.

Then the guy is out.

Barely even eight minutes in. 

There's a stunned and shocked silence. The crowd seems both enthralled and disappointed at how fast it all went. On the ring floor, you can practically see the circle of cartoon birds flying above the defeated King's head.

You may not know anything about boxing, but you know that this man is not getting up anytime soon, no matter how far the referee counts.

Tearing your eyes away from the motionless body splayed out on the ground elevated above you, you can see the victor towering menacingly over the body.

But Miguel O'Hara isn't even looking at his defeated opponent

No, his eyes are staring straight into the sea of awestruck spectators. Except he’s not looking at them.

He's looking at you.

~ Next.

Author's note: What's that you say? CiCi wtf are you doing starting another series when you already got one going on? ... Idek man. But I hope you guys enjoy it, cause I had a blast writing it, smut will ensue in later chapters I promise!

Dedications and Credits: Buckle up it's gonna be a big one!

Firstly to @guruan when I say she's my muse THIS IS WHAT I MEAN! Look at that beautiful artwork. I am drooling into my panties. I am crying between my legs. I am so damn horny! I cannot thank this amazingly talented genius enough. Please please give this wonderful brilliant human your love by following her, and drop by her KO-FI SHOP cause the art this woman bless us with is UN-fucking-REAL

Then to @djarinsbeskar who put this idea into my head. In my mind she is the OG Boxer AU champion and mastermind. If you are in the mood for more boxing content, she has a wonderful, devastatingly sexy series Boxer!Din AU that is just woof woof bark bark.

[moonbear-from-space]

To everyone still mourning over Venom 3 don't worry I got some stuff that might help that. Big reminder once again to not harass any of the people that worked on this movie. It all comes down to creative choices at the end of the day or some higher ups being in control and so on. There's nothing we can do about it, please be respectful and mature.

However there is some hope, the post credit scene shows a black cockroach that likely could be Venom. I have a feeling there not quite done with Venom yet we don't when it will happen or what will happen but I really don't think it's the end. Maybe Venom will be in some crossover movie, maybe even appear in the third Spiderverse movie, who really knows for now.

Other things that I heard before rumors going around that a animated rated R Venom movie that seems to be in the works same with a Spider-Man animated movie too that's also planned to be rated R. While the Tom Hardy Venom trilogy maybe over perhaps in a few years we will see a new reboot of sorts for a different take on Venom, but still who really knows. We don't even know if it's gonna happen at all.

In the meantime you have plenty of content for Venom outside of the trilogy. Pretty much over 30 years worth of content that you might find enjoyment from. The 2016 run of Venom is a perfect example that proves that symbrock is very much cannon in the comics. Same with Venom: First Host and some parts of the 2018 run too. (Granted I haven't read a lot of it.)

There's the original 1993 Venom: Lethal Protector, it's fun, silly, camp and enjoyable love me some 90's Venom stories. ^-^

You also have 1996 Venom: The Hunger and its sequel in Marvel select #5. The new Lethal Protector comics and the new Separation Anxiety mini-series. Marvel Midnight Sun has extra DLC content where the game is sorta a dating sim in disguise where you hang out with Eddie and such. If you don't wanna get the game just look up the cutscenes for yourself, there worth a watch. Pretty much any media of Venom is worth looking into.

I hope some of these suggestions are worth looking into and I hope you give some of these a chance, sure there not the versions you maybe familiar with but if you wanna fill that void after the last dance. I know comics are expensive to buy at times so you probably know where to look to find them for free.

Feel free for anyone else to add to this, if you have some fan fictions, fan art or even your own fan-made Venom comic, then promote it right here. I want to try and bring a positive spin on this whole situation as I know not everyone likes unhappy endings. So I hope this helps in any way.

[southasianpercy]

miles-42 is a vigilante.

this is something my friend and i have discussed in private immediately after watching the movie when it was released. but, whenever we see anyone else say it online, they get heavy pushback from A LOT of people. and i believe those people def only watched across the spiderverse for reasons such as (1) the most popular movie at the time (2) it’s spider-man (but they only have a passive interest in spidey). i say this because their denial of miles-42 being a vigilante instead of a villain or anti-hero feels like they only care to look at the movie with a very shallow perspective.

i’m going to first talk about why my friend & i believed miles-42 was a vigilante after watching the movie (take note that we hadn’t really seen other ppl’s opinions on this yet & we also hadn’t searched up anything pertaining to the topic prior to our convos).

our main reason is that miles-42 was meant to be spider-man in his universe. and we all know that when a person is meant to be spider-man, they are a person with a heart of gold (i.e. a very kind and good nature).*

*yes, i know spider-man can be evil, but that doesn’t line up with the theme represented throughout the spiderverse films, so it’s not relevant here. also, with that logic, then you have to consider that prowler can be good.

miles-42 being the prowler in his universe doesn’t mean that he’s automatically evil/a villain/thug/gang member, especially since there are parallels between miles-42 and our miles (miles-1610).

• they have the same mural dedicated to a beloved family member who died.

• miles-42 caught the glove from uncle aaron-42 the same way that our miles caught the spray can from his uncle.

• they wear the same clothes. i believe the clothes are a heavy indicator for how similar miles-42 and our miles are—they both wear the jersey with the big puffy coat over, but the colors (red & black, purple & green) match their respective titles (spider-man, prowler). this definitely indicates that they stand for the same thing and represent the same thing for their respective universes, just with a different appearance.

now, when i’ve seen people try to defend their belief that miles-42 is a villain or anti-hero, they say “well, he tied up our miles!” or “he’s the prowler! and the prowler is supposed to be evil/kill people!” or “he’s only had a couple seconds of screen time, so just let people assume what they want.” i have a rebuttal for each of these.

“well, he tied up our miles!” yeah, this is another parallel, similar to how our miles tied up peter b. parker in itsv. did that mean our miles was a villain then? or evil? no, he was scared and wanted answers. but, in comparison, miles-42 is more experienced and has spent a year being his city’s hero, so he’s definitely going to be tougher and more capable compared to itsv miles.

“he’s the prowler! and the prowler is supposed to be evil/kill people!” people need to take into account that this is a different universe without a spider-man. there is no spider-man mantle to take up because there never was one in the first place/no one got bit, which means things function differently. miles-42 being the prowler is the closest thing to being spider-man in his universe (which, once again, is indicated through subtext: miles-42 & our miles’s clothing being similar).

“he’s only had a couple of seconds of screen time, so just let people assume what they want.” no. i don’t care that miles-42 had little to no screen time because there are heavy indicators that point to him being a hero in his universe. and letting ppl assume what they want has went into weird racist territory where people push this idea of miles-42 running his own cartel, being a threatening hoodrat, or anything else that falls under bullshit harmful stereotypes based off of his appearance alone. letting ppl assume miles-42 to be anything but a vigilante who helps people and doesn’t kill anyone just lets them play out their fantasies that are deeply rooted in racism. they even make it to where miles-42 acts & dresses insanely different from our miles even tho the movie has shown us these two have similar taste?? and rio-42 didn’t think miles was acting any different when he was talking to her?? the only difference between our miles and miles-42 is their environment, which forced one of them to grow up way quicker and adopt a tougher exterior.

and a couple months ago, when i was reading through the atsv art book, on the section about miles-42 the director literally confirmed what my friend & i thought all along: miles-42 is a vigilante and the hero of his universe. it’s nice to have it confirmed, but it also is important for the vigilante deniers to hear it because that’s the only time they’ll truly understand (even tho it’s been heavily hinted at in the movie).

p. 190 of the atsv official art book

p. 200 of the atsv official art book

[glowstick-cafe]

♡Across the Spiderverse: Relationship Hc's♡

Hobie Brown x reader

Genre: Fluff(?)

Warning: Hobie is so cool and he knows it, black peepole(British rizz) being in love, as always reader is gender neutral.

Summary: You actully hated him at first, but the line between hate and love are often blurred.

A/n: You guys liked me being delulu with Pav so imma be delulu with Hobie. Also, leave a comment if you want. :]

_______________________________________

You are a part of the spider society, Miguel just picked you up and said, "You're coming with me, kid." And you've just been on it ever since.

Your often aided Margo with her work(not like she minded), mostly because talking to spiders other than her, Miguel, Jessica, and Lyla were scary.

That's when you met Hobie, you truly had no idea what the hell he was saying for a full hour into him talking becauseof his accent, and he probably picked up on that from your constant confused nodding.

Hobie was fine with you not wanting to talk, which you appreciated; the boy was always happy to carry the conversation, and he assumed you wanted to be friends because you've been following him around and listening to him attentively.

Your friendship with Hobie was great, you've even stayed over at his house a few times to watch a movie you never made it through because you always fell asleep.

That was when Gwen came into the picture. You didn't hate her, she was actully really sweet and you had a lot of fun with her, but Hobies' attention began to be more on Gwen rather than you.

When Hobie began to notice how distant you were becoming he confronted you when you both were watching a movie at his house again, for old time sake.

"You've been ignorin' me lately, why?" He asked bluntly, Hobie was laying on your lap looking straight up at you.

"I'm not ignoring you, you have Gwen to talk to, anyway." You quickly realized how you sounded and cursed yourself, you looked down to meet Hobie's gaze only to see him with an amused expression. "A bit jealous, are ye?" He jokingly questioned, then sat up from you lap.

You could feel the heat emanating from your face, "No! Not like that- I just....fuck off!" You retorted, before you could embarrass yourself futher, Hobie placed a finger under your chin and gave you a peck on the lips. "It was never like that with Gwen, you idiot."

Safe to say that you stayed awake for that whole movie.

When you and Hobie started dating, he became more touchy, in the sense that he has to be touching you in some way.

He loves showing you off, it's like Peter B. showing off his kid, he takes offense if they don't wanna see you.

Hobie likes to rest is head on yours, it happens everywhere, standing in a line, washing dishes, it great for him, not so much for your neck though.

He also likes to likes to hug you from behind, but since your a bit jumpy about hugs the alternative is using your head as a pillow, or using your shoulder.

"Mate, wha chu' mean you don't wanna see my partner?"

He's so soft for you, even with he doesn't want to be.

He absolutely melts when you lightly tugg on his pinky finger or his jacket when you want his attention for something.

You love to kiss all of his piercings individually when you notice he's not having a great day.

You can't do cornrows for the life if you, but Hobie got you covered. He sits you down between his legs and does your hair as you watch whatever.

God forbid you touch your cornrows while he's doing them, he will hit your hand with that comb and it will hurt. "Why you tryin' to mess up my work, nah?"

[foolsocracy]

With all the age discourse around Spider-Man Noir right now, I thought I’d compile parts of the comic that imply his age. I want to state that this pulling from his 2009-2010 comic run before the time skip, specifically the first volume. The spiderverse movie has taken a lot of liberties with the characters, so it is very possible that what Peters age is in 1933 in the comics is NOT what his age is in 1933 in the movies.

Peter’s age is not directly stated in his 1st comic run (I can’t speak for the 2020 ones because it has been a while since I read them, plus there’s like a 10 year jump). It IS however heavily implied that he is young. So much so that you can’t seem to go more than a page without someone referencing it.

Like, these all happen in the same scene. The writers beat you over the head with it.

In this issue alone Peter is called both “son” and “sonny” once, “boy” twice, and “kid” 8 times. Outside nouns, he is also referred to as young, and when Urich brings him to The Black Cat, Felicia calls it “babysitting.” Urich also asks Peter if he is “allowed out after midnight” but after some research I can’t seem to find any evidence of NYC having juvenile curfews at this point in time, though they did exist in lots of towns in the late 1800s and early 1900s because of child labor laws. I think this instance is just Pete just being young and an adult being concerned about his well-being.

It is also mentioned in this volume, and again in Eyes Without a Face (vol 2), that Peter wants to go to college in the future and is currently studying & saving up money to do so. This alone doesn’t necessarily mean he’s under 18 as there isn’t a max age to apply for college, plus Peter comes from a poor family during the Great Depression. It wouldn’t surprise me if he started college later than usual because of that (lack of funds & catching up due to not being in school/working).

There is other evidence that does imply he is under 18 though— he’s too young to drink alcohol!

Spider-Man Noir Vol 1 issue 1 starts in January 1933 before jumping back three weeks to December 1932 where Ben Urich meets Peter Parker

It is during December 1932 that he meets Felicia Hardy who owns the speakeasy The Black Cat. Prohibition is still in place and won’t be overwritten until a year later in December 1933. It is important to note that before Prohibition was instated, the drinking age in New York was 18 years old. That law is what the characters reference when they discuss drinking age. And most importantly, Peter doesn’t deny the fact that he’s too young to drink. He just snarks back in true Parker fashion

This is the most concrete evidence there is towards Peter being under 18 in the noirverse. It can even be argued that Peter is under 17 with how easily Felicia picks up on the fact that he’s underage (and that she does so from a distance might I add, as seen in the ‘babysitting’ panel).

There is also a panel where JJJ refers to Peter as an “orphan.” By definition, an orphan is a kid under 18. This is JJJ, so this can be taken with a grain of salt as he loves good ol hard-hitting words. When people speak they don’t always use words by their exact definitions; sometimes if you’re young and your parents are dead, JJJ is going to label you an orphan even if ur a legal adult lol. But if you take this at face value it’s definitely another indicator that Peter is under 18.

TLDR; Spider-Man Noir from his 2009-2010 comic run is most likely under 18, and can be argued to be 15-16+. If not that, then is definitely college aged or younger.

[nervousgardenerkid]

So anxious

a/n: LMAO hey yall this is my first fic after a LONG time and it's from across the spiderverse😭i can't help it i love that movie sm. ANYWAYS i was listening to so anxious by ginuwine and i got this idea sjjsisj i hope you all enjoy it bc it was so fun to write! happy reading and credit to the gif owner!! <3

warnings: none really, some cursing ofc, hobie lowkey teasing you, not proofread (bc that's a warning itself), and me not knowing how to write with a british accent in mind (i'm so sorry)

this fic doesn't have any gender specific pronouns or any specific racial qualities so it's free for EVERYONE to read! <3

You were staring. You knew you were staring too, but how could you not? Your eyes fell onto Hobie’s hand as he did god knows what with the technology that was spread out in front of his desk. Your eyes trailed up his toned arms, blushing you remember how easily he could lift you up no matter what.

“You're staring again, love.” his voice broke you out of your thoughts, your eyes flicking over his face.

God, he's so pretty. Your heartbeat speeds up when the sun shines on him just right. The golden light reflecting off of his piercings nearly blinded you but not in the same way his beauty was. Your eyes fall to his sharp jawline, up to his lips as they sit in a small frown. God his lips. Heat flows throughout your body as you imagine his lips pressed against yours, leaving gentle (and not-so-gentle) kisses all over your face. Before you have time to admire the rest of him he turns to you, a smirk replacing the frown that was on his lips.

“I got something on my face? Why you staring so much?”

A familiar warm feeling falls over your cheeks as you reluctantly tear your eyes off of him and nervously look down at your hands.

“Nah, Nah,”

His hand reaches out and gently grabs your chin, making you look at him again.

“Don't go acting all shy now. Why you staring at me so hard, hm?”

A soft whine leaves your lips as you hide behind your hands, peeking at him from the spaces between your fingers. Your heart is racing a mile a minute and you feel like you can't breathe with the way he's staring at you. As if on instinct you shrug your shoulders, clearing your throat nervously as you calm your nerves.

“You're a shit liar,” he chuckles. He gently grabs your wrists, prying your hands away from your face, as your eyes look everywhere except at him.

“What, you not gonna stare anymore?”

“Hobie…” you whine throwing your head back with a giggle.

“That's my name. Don't wear it out now, yeah?”

Finally, your eyes land back on him and his beautiful face.

“Ah, there you are,” he says softly as he brushes a piece of hair out of your face.

You feel yourself getting lost in his facial features again before he snaps his fingers.

“Oi, don't go off in your own little world now. What's going on with you?”

A smile stretches across your lips.

“You're pretty,” you say quietly, almost as if you've never told him this before.

He smiles at you, his hands gently gripping your waist as he brings you close to him.

“Yeah?” he asks, a teasing tone lacing his deep voice.

You nod your head as your hands rest on his cheeks, gently caressing the skin.

“Should see yourself then. A real piece of art is what you are.”

Your giggles fill the room making him smile. He could listen to you laugh all day and never get sick of it.

“‘M serious Hobie!”

His brows furrow.

“Yeah, I am too. ‘M not one for labels but you're easily the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Besides myself of course.”

Your laugh fills his ears once more and he swears he can feel his heart skip a couple of beats, he's not sure how he's still alive right now. He places a kiss against your lips, smiling into the kiss when he feels you sigh happily and wrap your arms around him.

He pulls away looking at you with hooded eyes and gives you one more peck before he returns to the broken device that’s sitting in front of him.

“Just keep admiring me for a while, ‘m almost done here, love.”

You sigh happily, relaxing on the couch as your eyes scan over him once again. You're staring again. You know it, Hobie knows it too but he doesn't mind.

He never even had a problem with it in the first place.

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

Okay I see your "if Hobie and Noir meet they would be besties and punch nazis together" and I totally agree with that! But also consider:

Hobie is Spider Noir's biggest fanboy!

Like in the comics he's like a HUGE Gwen Stacy stan and he's such a goofy little dork about it. In ATSV him and Gwen's relationship is more like chill friends, and I'm okay with that. But I think it be so funny that when Hobie was recruted into Spiderverse society and Miguel was showing him all the other universes with the different Spiderman variants he pauses by the computer screen with that one gritty black and white universe cuz he just saw some guy in a fedora and trench coat PUNCH A FUCKING NAZI!!! WHO IS THAT GUY?!?! HE'S SO COOL!!!

He asks Miguel a million and one question about the guy and when the old grump annoyingly shoos him away he asks Peter as he briefly met him during that one incident in Miles is dimension. When that still isn't enough he asks Lyla to tell him everything she knows on Noir. Now obviously Lyla has no obligation to do this but she's also never seen Hobie this giddy and excited over something other then music. Its adorable, he's almost like a little kid wanting to know everything about their favorite cartoon. Also she low key likes to annoy Miguel and Hobie's rebellious spirit that gets under her straight laced boss is skin which is hilarious.

You know when Gwen first met Hobie she was a bit intimated cuz he just had that "too cool" vibe about him. But as soon as she mentions that she has worked with other Spider people before, which includes Noir, he did a whole 180 and became a complete dork!

Hobie: Get out, you actually met him! 🤩

Gwen: Uh, yeah?

Hobie: How was he like? What did he say? Did he talk about fascist corruption that not only plagued the system back then but even now as well? Was he super cool during the fight?! 😃🤩💫😻

Gwen: ..........He was nice.

Hobie: That's so rad! ✨️🤟🤩

I also feel like, aside from Miles, Gwen keeps in contact with the other Spider peeps from the first movie and tried to recruit them into the Spider society but obviously Noir and Porker didn't join. Porker because he’s a cartoon that follows "toon logic" and Miguel's ideologies are too serious for his taste. And Noir because, and I quote: "The last I heard of a secret society designed to 'keep the peace for the greater good of humanity at any cost' a whole world war came about it. I know fascism when I see it, kid."

Gwen relays that message to Hobie when explaining why Noir isn't joining and Hobie's response to that is: "He gets it! He just like me fr! 😭💕"

I think it be really cute that in the next movie when they finally meet Hobie is kinda awkward and shy. Like this guy has never respected an adult in his life (at least not any that didn’t deserve the disrespect) and with Noir his all like "Hello sir" "How are you sir" "It's very nice to meet you sir!" And Noir is actually just a really nice guy if a little broody but he's heard so much about this kid from Gwen and how much of a good friend he's been to her so Noir already likes him on principle.

Hobie: Uh Mr. Noir-- Parker, sir! It is such an honor to meet you! The work you do in your universe is amazing and I hope to learn more while working alongside you however briefly.

Noir: Ah, Peter is just fine really, or Noir if it gets to confusing. No need to be so formal, we're all on equal footing here. I've heard a lot about you and your world as well from Gwen. Although it does sadden me that such a young man has to take on the burden of saving the world from such a corrupt society yet again, you're going about it quite well. War is hard and ugly and violent but you are amazingly brave to be able to stand up for what is right in the face of it all. If anybody is honored here it is me, for being able to meet such a remarkable young man like you. And knowing that my friends have made such honorable allies in the midst of all this chaos.

Hobie, externally: Yeah, it's whatevs 😎

Hobie, internally: Dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry YOURE GUNNA LOOK SO UNCOOL IF YOU CRY IN FRONT OF HIM NOW 😭💕😭💕😭

I just think it be really cute if they had a wholesome father-son sort of relationship where they shit talk corrupt government systems and punch fascists together. You know, regular father-son bonding!

(Also I think that's another reason Miguel didn't invite Spider Noir to the Spiderverse, cuz he knew that both of these menaces together would cause a bigger headache than its worth 🤣🤣🤣)

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

hi! i saw your post about how true the makers of atsv were to real-life brooklyn and i loved it so much that i just had to ask if you'd be willing to make a more in-depth analysis on that? i'm not from america but i adore the movie so it's very interesting to hear firsthand accounts about its authenticity from locals! ofc this is just a humble request and i completely understand if the answer is no <3

I'd LOVE to! The Spiderverse Series is honestly the most accurate movie of New York I've seen in my life - including live-action movies. I say that not just in essence but in everything. And Across the Universe takes it over the top. Like, INSANELY so.

Across The Spiderverse & It's Dedication to Cultural Accuracy [aka ATSV is so goddamn good I can tell you exactly what street Gwen and Miles went to Mumbattan from. It's that accurate.]

I'm a black, afro-latino, and a born and raised 'Brooklynite'. Despite there being thousands of movies of New York, I'd say less than 5 percent of them are in any way accurate or current. (Yellow taxi cabs are no longer a thing here really.)

But Across the Spiderverse defies that in every way - nailing it historically, culturally, and even by replicating exact locations.

Wanna see the Bodega Spot robbed? Cause it's a real, random bodega! And the building he goes into at the end - I can tell you exactly where it is, with 100% assurity. All by street signs.

In the first scene with Spot we see him standing outside on the curb, looking into the store. On the corner there is a street sign that reads Fulton St.

Fulton is an actual street in BedStuy (Bedford Stuyvesant, pronounced Bed-St-eye), literally a stone's throw from my house. And they take it further.

Although it can be hard to see, the other side to the left of it reads Nostrand Ave. Fulton and Nostrand is a very popular intersection in the neighborhood, mainly because there's a subway station for the A line located on one corner.

There's Nostrand and Fulton.

But if you turn to the other corner you see...A Bodega! Looks familar?

That's the bodega Spot robbed.

99% of the people who watch this movie will be from New York. Even less will be from BedStuy. Even less will catch the split second sign on the corner, only on screen for only a few frames.

It took me 3 watches to notice. But I noticed. And my jaw dropped. How much that means is unexplainable. I've been on that corner, and the TacoBell across the street. And so has Miles. That's insane.

It doesn't stop there.

Spot enters the store, as we pass we see a sticker for 'WIC/EBT' on the cashier's counter. I'm not sure how common this is - but WIC and EBT standards for Welfare Benefits and Food Stamps. As you cannot buy warm food with Food Stamps (sadly), lots of bodegas advertise taking EBT for the deli sandwiches.

Nice shout out to the struggling families in the communities, I love a Bodega that takes EBT.

We move towards the back of the store - In the Bodega while Spot messes with the ATM we get a wider shot, and another very insanely specific shout out.

Behind Spot is a sign showing a Beef Patty (which I'll mention in a moment) and a sun logo called 'Sunny Patty'.

This is a direct call out to a specific chain of Beef Patty shops in Brooklyn and Harlem called 'Golden Krust'.

I cannot stress how much of a niche reference this is! Golden Krusts only exist in low income neighborhoods - mainly in Brooklyn, Harlem, and the Bronx. If you're anywhere near Times Square or any place else New York shows choose to portray - you're not finding a Golden Krust.

Golden Krusts are store that is ingrained in Caribbean culture, which Brooklyn is full of - hence the adapted Jamaican flag up front. I grew up eating Golden Krust and I'd eat it more if they didn't close so goddamn early.

But it's there.

Once again, only a few pixels, only a few frames, but someone probably took 6 hours drawing that. For the 0.009% of the people who'll get the reference. Low-income, black New Yorkers - like me.

ATSV is so accurate that you can even find the exact spot in which Miles and Gwen leave through the portal.

But before I tell you where it is - I wanna talk about why it's so important.

It's important because one of the most famous Spider-man scenes in history is just plain WRONG to New Yorkers.

This scene is ENTIRELY incorrect, and I knew it even as a child.

Firstly, based on the skyscrapers everywhere, this is solidly Manhattan. The train says Bay Ridge, which is in South Brooklyn, maybe 40 minutes away by train. So I'm going to assume this is the Q or B train, running through Manhattan. Which, okay they do, but -

There are NO elevated trains in Manhattan. The Q, like every other train, only goes above ground in Brooklyn and Queens. This is very clearly Chicago.

So he couldn't be doing this. It's a simple but HUGE fuck up. Any one born in New York will notice it because Manhattan just looks wrong with elevated trains.

And it would've been fine if they just set it in Brooklyn where Bay Ridge and the elevated trains actually are.

But instead they made generic Manhattan streets - so much so I can't even tell what neighborhood they're in. Do you see how this is such a problem?

Across The Spiderverse is animated. And they still put in the effort.

I can't tell you where Peter Parker is stopping that train - it ain't Manhattan - but I CAN tell you where Miles and Gwen leave for Mumbattan.

So let's go back to where we started. We're on Fulton and Nostrand both in BedStuy.

Throughout the fight, we see Spot and Miles go through a couple streets - most notably a very popular street in the neighborhood - Broadway.

This happens twice, once while fighting Spot, and once when Miles and Gwen grab the hot dogs. They show this twice, cause this will be important for what we're trying to do.

Now this may not make any sense to you, since it's just random streets, but I'm about to tie it together.

Gwen releases the bug near an elevated train. When we see Miles and Gwen swinging, they cling to a train. Now, it's hard to tell what train this is but so far we know.

We're in Brooklyn

We're near Broadway

We're near an elevated train line

There's a station on Broadway called Broadway Junction. It serves the G line and the J,M,Z line.

When we see the train pass by, we get a glimpse of the model. Each train line has a slightly different variation, with some being a lot old. The one that passes is one of the newer ones.

(Once again, very accurate, as those models do run on elevated lines)

And although we can't see the letter on the train, by that alone, I can guess we're by the elevated J,M,Z lines in BedStuy - near Broadway Junction. Easy. Now we just need to know what stop we're at.

Well, they tell us that too. Finally, When Spot heads into the building we get a glimpse of the exact street he's on - Bedford.Ave

So I just threw a LOT of information at you - but look at this map of the J,M,Z line and hopefully it comes together

At the bottom along the green line - we see Bedford/Nostrand Ave. Remember, the robbery starts us off on Nostrand. Let's move up the green line. We get to a part where the green line passes the brown and orange ones - the JMZ trains.

They connect at Broadway (Officially Broadway Junction Station). We see Broadway with the hot dog vendor there.

If we move to left of Broadway we see Marcy Av. - and if we look to the left OF THAT we see a faint white line heading north.

THAT line is Bedford Ave. Where Spot enters the building.

Because we know they're in Brooklyn, and we know they passed Broadway. Plus we know they're now on Bedford by an elevated train that runs newer models.

So from those signs alone we can definitely say that Spot is on Bedford Ave. and Broadway. Next to the JMZ elevated trains, two stops from Broadway Junction in Brooklyn.

100% that's the spot (lol). That's the only place Bedford crosses an elevated train. And as a New Yorker, I got that from this photo.

Trust me when I say - we can tell.

By those short shots of street signs, we know that Miles started in BedStuy, swung north towards Broadway, then took a turn towards Bedford Ave in Williamsburg. And that's where Gwen plants the bug - and the place she returns to before going to Mumbattan.

Is that crazy? That's CRAZY. Percision accuracy that I have never seen in a movie live-action or otherwise.

All throughout the first scenes of ATSV - they are on actual streets, that are reasonably within swinging distance of each other, along actual train lines - with their stations accurately located.

That's INSANE. There was no need for that amount of detail, but they did it anyway.

There's SO many times in Spider-men movies where they'll start swinging in Queens, and then the next scene is like Upper Manhattan. They don't label the neighborhoods, but from buildings alone, I can tell what neighborhood it is.

And I'm supposed to believe Peter just swung 2 and a half boroughs in twenty minutes. I don't notice. But I NOTICE.

Here, Miles and Gwen are truly swinging accurate distances in the right amount of time. That's mental. And refreshing!

In a live action movie - they have NO excuse. Just film in the city, it's not like we're Gotham. And we give film crews huge tax breaks. In an animated movie - completely understandable. But they still said 'No, that's subpar.' and went the extra mile.

They didn't even have to show ANY street signs, they could've left it at the easter egg at the corner store.

But they didn't. Because they're telling a story about a Black kid from Brooklyn, who leaves for someplace completely unfamiliar. BedStuy is Miles' home, and they wanted to make it feel that way. So when he's not there - in the cold polish of Neuva York - you can feel it.

You can feel Miles leaving his warm, rich community when he lacks that community in the Society. In the movie and IRL, BedStuy is so full of color, with so many people doing so many things and sharing so many cultures.

And in the society, everyone is the same. There's no culture. That's dedication.

Because of a train in Spider-man 2, I was immediately taken out of the story. And because of train in ATSV, I was immediately brought in.

For once, it feels like they're swinging around a neighborhood - cause they are.

A Large Detail in ATSV:

So I talked about Trinity Church - the real church that Peter Parker was buried at in ITSV - and how accurate the team got it to the actual building.

In fact, this is the spot where Miles is standing.

Like he's standing maybe 20 feet AT most from this spot, you can see in the windows and spires at the top.

But I also wanna explain why this - and why the fact that Peter was buried there is SO important.

Trinty Church is one of the most famous historical churches in the United States. It was started by the first English settlers in New York. It's extremely famous, and extremely sentimental.

For reference - Alexander Hamilton and his family are also buried at Trinity Church, along with dozens of other important US historical figures - across centuries.

You can't just be buried in Trinity. It's a city landmark. The cemetery is full, small, and you CANNOT pay your way in. The church is extremely choosy with who they will bury there - and honestly, I don't think anyone has been buried there for maybe a century or more.

So for the city to bury Peter Parker's body in the most prominent church in all of the city, if not the country - that speaks VOLUMES.

Like I said in the last post, my father use to work at Trinity Church - and they're the whole deal. Candles burning everywhere, super quiet and devote. The church has catacombs under it, everything.

They didn't just bury him anywhere. The people of New York went out of their way to give Peter Parker the most honorable burial physically possible within the city of New York.

The highest honor for any New Yorker. One reserved only for Spider-man.

Which I think was an amazing touch. Especially since Trinity is in downtown Manhattan - so anyone could come visit and pay respects.

Other Cultural Accuracies

Before we wrap up I wanna breeze through some other cultural accuracies that appear in ATSV.

Miles stops to eat a Jamaican Beef Patty while in the Bodgea. I spoke about these earlier with the Golden Krust sign. Jamaican beef patties are these flaky pastries colored with tumeric, full of spicy meat. And they are very popular with the large Carribean community in Brooklyn - which I'm apart of :)

In the case, we see the Beef Patties labeled with red dots. But Miles seems to go for the only one without it.

I'm guessing the red dots indicate which ones are the spicy Beef Patties and which ones are the mild, and Miles grabbed the last mild one they had.

They draw it really well, especially while Miles is eating it.

"Spider-man seems more Dominican." Genuine question - did anyone laugh at this joke in your theatre?

Because all three times I went, people laughed. The first time people LOVED that joke.

NYC, especially the Bronx has a HUGE Puerto Rican AND Dominican population - many times living side by side

And there's this kinda 'beef' in the same way Yankees fans have beef with the Mets fans (NYC baseball teams)

The best way I can describe the joke is that they're two very strong, very proud Spanish cultures that are often mistaken for each other - but Puerto Ricans and Dominicans can very obviously tell each other apart. Mainly because of the Spanish they speak.

So for him and his mom to have that back and forth, it's kinda an inside joke of Puerto Ricans and Dominicans getting confused for each other - but them being able to tell the difference.

His mom says Spider-man is Puerto Rican, but Miles corrects her - without backing it up with any reason.

It's like they can just TELL.

I don't know how else to explain the joke but its a very New Yorker thing to do - discuss that out like that.

Since a lot of us are the children of immigrants - it's knee-jerk to identify with your parent country and not this one.

If you ask someone in New York 'What are you'. Many young people (me included) would say "Oh I'm *parents nationality*." In my case, I say I'm Bajan and Peruvian. Even though I was born in New York.

Miles would say he's Puerto Rican though he's never been.

So them discussing where Spider-man is 'from' even though he's obviously a New Yorker is the joke.

Like - someone on the writing team HAD to be from New York to add that in cause it's so...oddly New Yorker???

While swinging Miles and Gwen pass the B46 bus. Once again, completely accurate. The scene starts on Nostrand and Fulton. The B46 does indeed stop on Fulton St.

When they're swinging, the movie accurately shows the new World Trade Center (aka The Freedom Tower) - which is the tallest building in the picture.

Also, the bridge to the LEFT is the Brooklyn Bridge, while the tall one on the right is Manhattan Bridge. Many people don't know there's actually two bridges. (There's more but those two are the main ones)

Good on them for showing both Bridges, both accurately placed as well

Fun fact: Trains run over the Manhattan Bridge - the Q, B and a couple others (beautiful - I love it when they do) but trains do not run over the Brooklyn Bridge.

And lastly, when Miles and Spot are on Broadway, the school behind them is actually architecturally accurate for a Brooklyn school. So much so that design is iconic.

______________________ So those are most if not all of the cultural accuracies in Across the Spiderverse!

I cannot stress enough how ridiculously bang on this movie is in terms of everything.

The team put in so much work, and it paid off. To me, at least.

I don't feel like Miles is some kid from a different alternative New York. I feel like he's a real kid in MY New York. From everything down to his Jordans (don't even get me started on how much Jordan's has a CHOKEHOLD on teenagers in New York. Like...it's a status thing. Even since I was a kid, everyone wanted Jordans. Jordans or Nike Air Force 1s. So having Miles wear Jordans is my favorite thing cause yea a kid from BedStuy would think those are flyest shit ever even though they're just regular degular Jordans lol. And you KNOW Miles 42 a sneakerhead. Look at those shoes. He aint creasing those)

This movie, is chef's kiss. It tops all other New York portrays - live-action or otherwise and I stand on that.

If you read this far, thank you SO much. I love sharing New York culture (and the cultures that make it what it is to begin with) and I'm SO happy I can share this stuff and hopefully help people appreciate the movie more too!

If you learned something or have any questions, I'm all ears!

And I usually leave a photo of Hobie here as a send-off but this post hit the photo limit LMAOOOOOO

Bye.

[bold-embrace]

We better get a much needed morales family hug at the end of the next movie OR ELSE (btw read this fic. bless)

Bonus messy doodle below but it’s got major spider verse spoilers!‼️‼️‼️

Earth 42 miles better get a hug and a kiss from his mom too

[gaybananabread]

Call me crazy (because I am), but the pile of Spiderverse stuff isn't tall enough. >w< If you're up for my nonsense, and it's available:

I'm thinking #4 (Hide and Seek) with either Miguel or Doc Ock as the ler and our favorite Spider-Gang as lees.

I'm biased, but I love #6 (Cuddles) with Gwen and Hobie. Lee!Gwen is my favorite, but a little close-combat tickle fight would be adorable.

#16 (Cackle) with Gwen as Lee, possibly a little comfort with her being embarrassed of her laugh. Miles obviously adores her laugh, and Hobie just likes making her happy.

#19 (Secret), How about a very funny secret identity reveal? >w< Miles gets some tickles from one or both of his parents, and through a folly of your choice (a minor injury, noticing his costume, or god forbid, him losing control of his powers) they realize that he's Spiderman.

#25 (New Discovery) Somewhere between the two movies, Gwen has been hanging around Hobie more and suddenly finds out that he's ticklish. Pavitr does not bail him out in the slightest.

I am very sorry. >w< I hope you have fun this year!

~Panda/Black Feathers

TickleTober Day 25 - New Discovery

~I've loved writing all your requests! These were so much fun; I'm gonna miss 'em. I can see Pav just tossing Hobie to the wolves with no remorse. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Hobie

Ler: Gwen (Pav instigates)

Summary: Gwen and Hobie's friendship is still relatively fresh, though it's still strong. Pavitr gets tired of their shenanigans and decides to help Gwen discover one of his favorite Hobie fun-facts.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

“H-hey, wait up!”

“Catch up, small fry!”

Gwen laughed as she chased after her newfound friend, feeling the wind rush through the breathable fabric of her spider suit. She'd been growing closer and closer to the punk, spending a decent amount of her free time in his amazingly chaotic dimension.

“No fair! You’ve got a better swing, you bean pole!” Gwen did a small flip out of her next swing, narrowly avoiding a street sign she almost hadn’t seen. Hobie laughed ahead of her, making the girl blush.

After six minutes of intense competition, the pair made it back to Hobie’s houseboat. Pavitr was already there, snacking on some of Hobie’s chocolates as he waited for them.

“Took you two long enough! Did you two argue again?” Pav chuckled, popping one of the orange cream chocolates in his mouth before Hobie could stop him.

“OI! Ge’ yer own sweets, ya moocher!” With an indignant squawk, Hobie snatched the rest of his chocolates back. As per usual, Pav had eaten all of the fruity ones. That boy was gonna pay…

“But yours are always so good! The ones from Gwen’s universe just aren’t the same,” he whined, trying to use his puppy-dog eyes to win himself a way out of trouble. The punk just rolled his eyes before placing the chocolate in the top of his pantry; to specify, his pantry whose ceiling wasn’t wide enough to climb on.

“Mean.” Pav’s lip jutted out in a pout, making Gwen giggle. She’d gotten closer to Pavitr first, but she was really warming up to Hobie. They were both amazing people, helping her to feel less alone.

“Maybe, but you deserve it.” Gwen teased the shorter teen, tasing his side. Pav jumped at the sudden feeling, giggling and batting at her hand.

“Hey! Noho need for such cruelty!”

Hobie snorted at Pav’s dramatics, using the boy’s shoulder as an armrest. “‘S not cruel, Pavi. Yer just too ticklish.”

“Says you! You are the mo- MMPH!” A hand over his mouth cut the shortest teen off, Hobie silencing him with a chuckle. The two had a playful tousle as Gwen tried to figure out what to do next. They’d just planned a hang-out, but not what they’d be doing.

“How about we watch a movie?” She wedged herself between the two bickering boys, stopping their playful argument from progressing any further. “Hobie can make us popcorn.”

…

After some light complaints from Hobie and a small debate over what to watch, the three had cuddled up on Hobie’s couch with a bowl of popcorn and some drinks. They were watching Spookley the Square Pumpkin for the fun of it.

As the three cartoon spiders moved across the screen, Hobie huffed. “I don’ see why they had to be such dicks abou’ the crown. Could’a jus’ shared it from the get-go.”

“It’s a kid’s movie, Hobie. Nobody ever does what they’re supposed to at first, or there wouldn’t be any plot.” Gwen leaned over to nudge his shoulder, sandwiched between the two teens.

“Hush. ‘M allowed to complain.” Hobie crossed his arms with a huff, sinking into the couch beside her. Before he could comment on the near impossibility of a naturally-grown square pumpkin, the lanky teen felt nails softly spidering up the back of his neck.

“Aww, c’mon! The spiders just wanted some-” Gwen was cut off by a strangled little squeal from Hobie. His dark cheeks burned as he shied away from her touch, smacking her hand away.

“Uh…what was that?” The playful look in Gwen's eyes gained a curious edge – one that shook Hobie to his core. Shit…

“Nothin’, don' worry ‘bout it.” He shoved at her face, his large hand covering her mouth before she could ask any more questions.

“Mmph- hey! What is with you and covering other people's mouths?” Gwen giggled before scooting closer, forcing herself farther into his personal space. The lanky teen tried shoving again, but she just pushed his hands away.

“Maybe ‘cuz you lot ‘re a bunch’a- GRK!” Hobie jerked as she squeezed his side, one hand flying to cover his mouth as the other grabbed her wrist. “Kn-knock ihit off, Gwendy…”

“Why should she? Is someone perhaps afraid of our new friend pointing out that he-”

“SHUT UP, PAV!”

The fluffy-haired boy narrowed his eyes at Hobie, tired of his snippiness. They both knew it was all in good fun, but he still wanted revenge.

“Gwen, go for his hips. I will go grab us some drinks for later.” Pav climbed off the couch, Hobie gaping at him as he sauntered off to the kitchen.

That cheeky little-

“ACK! SH-SHIHIHIHIT! GWEHEHEN!” Hobie jolted as he felt two sets of nimble fingers drilling into his hips. Pav was going to die later; for the moment, Hobie had bigger problems.

“I can't believe you're ticklish! Like, super ticklish!” Gwen seemed giddy at that fact, squeezing and scribbling all around Hobie’s sensitive hips. “You don't seem it, but… Well, wow!”

“S-STOHOHOP AHACTIN’ LIHIKE ‘M AHA CIRCUHUS AHAHACT!” Hobie bucked and thrashed beneath her touch, trying to knock the girl off him. She held strong, however, refusing to let him get away so easily.

“I will when you stop being entertaining,” Gwen quipped, not letting up for a second. Hobie was an easy-going guy with his friends, but he rarely ever lost himself like he was in that moment.

Gwen eased up a bit, moving both hands up to his sides. She wanted to tickle him, not push his boundaries.

“How long were you gonna keep this from me, huh? Friends are supposed to trust each other.” The girl smiled as she inched one hand towards his navel, making the punk kick and snort.

“I-ihihihit’s noho- *snort* Shuhu’ ihihit!” Hobie's loud laughs simmered down to bass-sounding giggles, the occasional snort slipping in with his breaths.

“Wow. What a clear, coherent answer.” Gwen rolled her eyes fondly as she continued to tickle him, noting the near complete lack of struggling. Sure, he was a squirmy mess, but he wasn't really trying to fend her off anymore.

“Hobs…do you like this?”

Even though her tone was nothing but innocently curious, Hobie's cheeks burned. He was not a self-conscious guy, but when something so close to his heart was questioned… Yeah, it didn't feel good.

“I-Ihihi- ihit’s nohohohot-” Hobie struggled to find the right words, struggling through his giggles. Noticing his sudden discomfort, she softened her tone considerably.

“Hey, I'm not judging. I like it too, Hobie. Just a question.” Gwen slowed her touch to a near-stop, just barely ghosting her fingers across his ribs. “You don't have to answer if you don't want to.”

“N-nohoho, it's… I-I lihike it. Both wahahays.” Hobie broke eye contact as he answered her, a bit afraid of her response. She was the first person besides Pav and his few close friends that he'd told.

“Good to know. Which do you prefer right now? Or none, if that's what you want.” Gwen’s voice was soft with fond amusement, her eyes glittering. She was happy to have found another teen who enjoyed tickling the way she did.

“Mmhmhmph…gehettin’ ‘em.” Hobie leaned his head on her shoulder, hoping she'd leave it at that and not make him ask for anything else.

Gwen got the message and, thankfully, decided to have mercy.

“You got it, Hobs.” Gwen's fingers trailed up and down his sides and ribs, her fingers occasionally zipping down to skitter across his belly.

She worked methodically, pulling as many different types and volumes of giggles and laughs from the other teen. She was enjoying herself, doing whatever felt right and made them both smile.

Hobie stood strong and took the tickles for about seven minutes, just laughing his cares away. When he finally did reach his limit, he weakly smacked at her hands.

Gwen got the message, switching from tickles to back massages to try and calm him down. “Wohow, Hobie. You lasted, like, way longer than I ever could.”

“Sh-shuhuhush…” Hobie just blushed and hid his face in her neck, catching his breath. She was stupidly good at tickling… He'd have to remember that.

“Okay, you two! I made smoothies!” Pav’s cheery voice filtered in from the kitchen, making Hobie growl. That little shit had gotten him into the whole mess…

“Comin’, Pav.” Hobie glanced up at Gwen, their eyes meeting in a silent understanding.

That smug little goofball needs to be taken down a peg.

[smb0]

So I wanted to bring up 7’s movie concept

First off, instead of Amitie and Ringo traveling the world, it’s the Suzuran ARS trio with Amitie tagging along

Second, Carbuncle’s battle is replaced with a battle against Ragnus because he’s cool and deserves to be a main stay

But what I really wanna bring up are the two Dark Arle battles

The first is the final of the 7 needed Puyo Battles

It’s against all 5 Primp students. Dark Arle eggs them on, bringing up moments from the past and going far but Ecolo isn’t trying to kill them

The second fight against Dark Prince, Rulue, Schezo and Ragnus is a different story. This isn’t a Puyo battle, but an actual fight. And Ecolo is aiming to kill. His comments about the traumatic moments he’s witnessed cut deeper. At one point, he almost kills Dark Prince, but Arle is able to resist just long enough for Rulue to get in the way, causing her to take most of the damage and knocking them both out.

Ecolo takes out Ragnus too, leaving just Schezo, in a battle paralleling the final battle of the Madou 2 movie. Eventually, Dark Arle has him pinned to the ground is about to finish him off when she resists again, and is able to long enough for Schezo to stab her through the heart, which excorcises Ecolo, and he frantically uses healing spells on her (I’ll tell ya how this calls back to Madou 2 in the reblog)

Ringo witnesses this. The first battle reveals that everyone will forget him, and he’s doing this for fun. And the second, all his comments relate to the character’s relationships with others in ways that cut extremely deep. This clues her into the fact that Ecolo is doing this because when you can’t form any form of relationship, what else can you do but amuse yourself? How can you care about others? She knows he’s not all bad, she can tell with how he acted in the first fight. This leads into the final fight later on

The powers of all of them combined manage to get Ringo and Ecolo to a spot alone, where she points all this out, breaks him by talking, to the point he’s just the core. Then comforts him. She promises to be his friend, even if she forgets, he can remind her. He breaks down and decides to leave

A post credit scene has him show up when Ringo is done with school, she sees him and calls him over, remembering him, and the final shot is her embracing him (the core not the shadowy bits)

That's... actually pretty good.

First, glad how all playable characters + your additions all contribute rather than stay back at Suzuran until the 7th battle's end and then just getting sucked into a space warp.

Second, Arle gets stabbed?! Will she be (mentally) okay?

Third, that seems like a more conclusive and heartfelt ending than the "A Winner Is You" immediate credits roll that 7 did. Plus, the Suzuran ARS Trio can actually give a proper goodbye to the Primp and Madou squads.

Fourth, this means you can add characters cut from or barely used in 7 like Lidelle (she had artwork done, but was cut before release), Witch and Harpy (who both only had cameos).

Fifth, you could give Transformation Mode a sense of purpose with some new lore (maybe even revive that scrapped magical girl concept).

Sixth, Brian Tyler and Daniel Pemberton's score would probably have Ecolo's theme be as menacing as Miguel O'Hara's theme from Spiderverse 2.

[astroboots]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME: ISSUE #4

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel O'Hara saves you from falling off the Chrysler building for a second time, and he's not very happy about it.

Word count: 4,400 words.

Content: Slow burn so slow we're getting a reverse speeding ticket, Spidey-boy has a lot of emotions and really needs therapy, he also swears a lot, tiny speck of angst.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

It's shocking how fast the ground approaches from a height of 72 stories. You always imagined it would take longer given the distance. In movies, the freefall is always captured in a hypnotizing slow motion, but real gravity is brutal and unforgiving.

This time, as you fall through the sky, you don’t see the New York concrete grow wider or nearer. All you see is the vast gap between you and the crystal blue sky rapidly pulling away from you. The buildings looming higher with every second. The blinding sun reflected in the thousands and thousands of glaring windows towering above.

You can't feel your heartbeat or the wind beating against your face. There should be panic. But at the sight of familiar inky-blue piercing through your view, an eerie calm takes over until a comforting numb spreads through your limbs.

Call it misguided naivety. No one should ever place this much trust with their life on a stranger they don't even know to come and save them.

But misguided or not, there's no fear in you this time around. You don't think about how you are plummeting down to your death. Not when you see him speeding after you. Diving head-first into the vast empty space as he closes the distance between you, hand outstretched, reaching for you.

His hand catches around your wrist in mid-air. It's a firm grip like he never means to let go. He reels you in until you're defying gravity, gliding up through the air to meet him until he can wrap his arms around you.

Everything decelerates. The reflection of the rows and rows of windows no longer flashing by. It's a gentle descent as the breeze flows pleasantly through your hair, and if you don't think too hard about how you can't control the direction of movement, you can almost believe you’re flying.

The landing is gentle. He sets you on your feet with such great care that it takes you a second to adjust to the feeling of firm concrete beneath your soles.

Once again, you find yourself standing face to face with the masked superhero who has saved your life more times than you can count on both hands.

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, head tilting upwards until your neck strains, and it strikes you that you've forgotten how tall he was. His head tips down, the dark outline of his masked eyes staring down at you, and it makes the hair on the nape of your neck prickle.

Say something. 

You rack your brain, trying to remember all the questions you had meticulously written down in the notepad hidden in your desk as you planned for this very moment. But they’re missing, wiped cleanly from your mind now that he's here in front of you. Your mouth parts, trying to remember how to use your vocal cords again.

Before you find it, the blue fabric recedes until it reveals his face again. You're met with cutting eyes that glow an otherworldly crimson and the bared sharp canine teeth of a predator as he growls at you. 

"What the hell were you thinking?!" 

The low rumble of his words scrapes down your spine and locks you in a fight or flight response. Except you're doing neither. Fixed in place, unable to move.

One of his hands reaches up to pull at his hair in frustration, as he starts to mumble to himself. He's tugging it so hard you think he's going to yank them out by the roots.

"I can’t believe you! Me estás matando. Casi me da un ataque cardíaco–"

You blink up at him dimly, confused until you realize that he's broken into Spanish. But he's speaking too low and too fast. You can only make out about half of it.

"–No puedo más! I am dying of stress. You're impossible! I turn away for one second…” 

One sentence flows directly into the next without stopping for a single breath, and you're surprised he doesn't go lightheaded from lack of oxygen with how long he goes on.

You raise your hand slightly, reminiscent of a gesture you used to pull in school when you wanted to get the teacher's attention to ask a question. But he doesn't notice. Doesn’t even throw a glance in your direction.

“... and you go Anna Karenina on me. I can't with you, I can't, I can't–"

You try to follow along, looking for an appropriate break in his rant to get a word in edgewise. But like the line of tourists lining up for the Statue of liberty, there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. As rude as it is, the only thing you can think of is clearing your throat, loudly, trying to draw attention to yourself, but that's soundly ignored as well.

"Me vas a sacar canas verdes–-"

One broad hand covers his face as if he's trying to scrub away the beginnings of a migraine, and he keeps going.

Listening to him makes you feel like a child on the receiving end of a scolding by an exasperated parent. Any lingering thread of fear or intimidation gives way to irritation at this man who is so subsumed by his tirade that he doesn't even seem to be aware of your presence, not three feet away from him.

"–Siempre haces esto, una y otra y otra vez–"

You don't know exactly how long he’s been going on for by now, but you know that it's long. You could even swear the shadow by your feet has shifted to the opposite end of the patch of concrete at your feet in the time he’s been talking.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" he asks, apparently finally done. He stands there, arms crossed, with a condescending set to his jaw as he looks down on you.

And god, where to even start with this man? You have enough material about his difficult and avoidant behavior to make a powerpoint presentation out of it. You should block out the boardroom for three whole hours and hold a Q&A after.

How, if he had just spoken to you after you left him not one, not two, but several requests to meet with him, then things could have ended up a lot more civilized.

How, if he hadn't been hiding from you this whole time—gaslighting you— you wouldn't have had to spend over $200 on budget DIY spy crap (in this economy!) on an utterly wasted attempt to catch him. And, to add insult to injury, you’re sure you are never going to use any of that stuff ever again!

How, if he hadn't been talking non-stop and had the self-awareness to take a second to observe others, he'd have realized that you had plenty of things to say to him, if only he had paused long enough to let you.

But somehow in the face of his expectant expression, all that comes out of your mouth is, "I don't know what you want me to say."

His face falls. There's a split second of disappointment, raw and anguished, that flitters across his face. Then it's gone as quickly as it appeared, and he turns away from you. Whatever he was expecting from you, that was obviously not it.

When he speaks again, his voice has turned calm and quiet. He almost sounds resigned.

"Yeah. I don't know either." 

There's a sluggish, awkward silence that lingers on the three feet of concrete stretched between the two of you. The echo of traffic below, the cab horns and chatter swarms the space. After everything that’s happened, it all feels very anti-climatic somehow.

"Can you take me back to my apartment and we can talk? I have coffee. Cake too," you say, trying to break the silence.

"I don't drink coffee." His tone is curt, severing the olive branch you were trying to extend with a sharp snap, and your shoulders sag in defeat and disappointment. But then his face tips back in your direction and meets your eyes. The line of his mouth twitches as if he’s war with himself. 

"But I'll have some cake," he concedes. 

Had you known that a superhero was coming over for a visit, you'd probably have done a better job of cleaning up and making the place presentable.

You would have put away the heap of unfolded, wrinkly laundry that's piled up on your bed, granny panties in full sight. Would have washed the dirty dishes stacked up in your sink like a dangerous game of porcelain Jenga. Or at least cleared out the sad looking take out box where your half-eaten pizza is still resting in a greased up spot on the table.

Still, you're not sure how impressed he would be even if you had. Your studio apartment is a standard size for NYC, meaning in most other places it would be classified as a closet. With his height, he has to duck to make it through the threshold of your door and can barely stand upright without banging his head against the ceiling. It’s ironic that the window entrance is probably less hazardous for him.

You get him a plate of cake and set it on the table in front of him, delicately placing the dessert fork on the side.

"Sorry, I don't have any cookies for you today, just coffee cake."

The sight of him sitting hunched over your Ingatorp IKEA dining table is slightly comical. The table looks like a miniature doll set against his broad frame, and as he picks up the small dessert fork in his large hand, that only adds to the absurdity of the situation. He looks like he’s playing at having a tea party with a child’s play tea set. 

You sit down across from him, watching him intently, trying to gather the nerve to ask the questions you've been dying to ask since this all started. But you're hesitant and fumbling, stumbling on your words like an idiot, "Uhm, so I wanted to ask if you– if you knew why all of this is happening to–"

"No."

You frown at his interruption. "You didn't let me finish," you protest.

He leans back against his chair, waving away your protests dismissively into the air. "I didn't need you to. The answer is no. Next question."

You bite down on your lip to stave off the curse stuck in your throat, trying to force its way out. You hold it. Stemming the tide, as you focus on the task at hand.

"Who are you?"

His head tilts to the side at your question, as his hand draws up and gestures vaguely over the spider emblem of his costume draped over his chest. "Isn't it obvious?" he snarkily responds, "I'm Spiderman"

Great, he's a rude and sassy superhero. You narrow your eyes at him

"You're not the Spiderman I know of."

He doesn't respond to that. Just glares down at the cake as he pierces it with a sharp stab of the fork, making the porcelain underneath clank. Then he scoops a large spoonful and shovels it into his mouth.

God, who eats cake so angrily?

"Why did you save–" you start, but he holds up one finger, motioning for you to pause. 

He cleaves off another piece of cake and shoves it into his mouth, chewing slowly. You watch as he beats the Guinness record of slowest chewer across the table from you, before you finally get to repeat your question.

"Why do you keep saving me?"

"I'm a superhero. I save people. It's what I do."

Bright irritation pings through you at his sarcastic attitude. 

This is like playing the world's shittiest game of 20 Questions, except here the whole goal of the game is to see whose sanity cracks first.

Naively, you had thought that being able to sit down with him in person would mean you could finally start getting some answers. You hadn't been expecting the need to deploy strategic maneuvers, and you pause, taking your time before you speak. 

You need to pick a question he won't be able to evade. You think back at the footage of the nanny-cam, that time he carried you to bed. The worry when you weren't where he expected you to be. The over-familiarity that seeps out of his every action with you as if he already knows you and that the last thing you heard as you fell off the ledge was his voice calling out your name.

"How did you know my name?" you finally ask him.

His back stiffens at the question, jaw grinding down until the small muscle there flexes with irritation.

"I don't."

Liar.

"You called my name when I fell," you remind him.

This time instead of answering, he slides the now empty plate at you across the table.

"Can I have another slice?"

You frown. It's an obvious ploy to buy himself some time to avoid answering your question. But you can't deny his request either.

With a sigh, you push away your chair to bring the plate to the counter. You cut up an obscenely big slice so that he won't be able to use this as an excuse a second time.

Turning back around, you find that the gluttonous self-proclaimed Spiderman is pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks a little worse for wear, a pained expression etched into those tightly knitted brows.

"Are you okay?" you ask, concerned.

"No. I–" He breaks off, his broad palm gripping the back of the chair, and you notice a slight tremor in his fingers. "Something’s wrong." 

He pushes the chair back, trying to get to his feet, but to your surprise, he stumbles and sways. 

He seems just as surprised as you are at his newfound lack of coordination. 

"What the–" He looks down on his feet with concentrated effort. Then he takes another step. It's wobblier than the one before, his knee giving way, and his arm shoots out to grip at the edge of your table for balance.

Alarm bells start to go off in your head. You don't understand what's happening, but he's definitely right, something is wrong. A man that can gracefully scale down the Chrysler building from 72 floors down shouldn't be struggling this much just to take two steps back in your living room.

"Maybe you should sit back down," you suggest, looking up at him. There’s a slight sheen of perspiration that's settled on his forehead. The beginnings of a rosy flush tinting his cheeks. "Do you have any food allergies?"

"No. I don't. No. Super metabolism kind of cuts down on that sort of–” he’s stumbling over his words, each syllable slurred on his tongue, as he shakes his head at you. “No, no allergies. No food sensitivities of any kind except...."

He glares around wildly and his eyes land on the remaining slice of cake perched on your kitchen counter. 

"Did you put fucking coffee in that cake?!?!"

“"Yes?” You whip around, and look at the cake on your counter, not understanding the relevance of his question. “I mean... It's a coffee cake? I told you that!" 

You push aside your growing panic as you try to remember if the EpiPen stored away in your kitchen cupboard is past its expiration.

"You didn't tell me there was coffee in it!"

Is he serious?

"I said ‘coffee cake’! What else would be in there? It's in the name," you snap. 

And god, you can't believe this is what you're arguing with him about at this moment.

"Okay, yeah," he concedes testily, "but coffee cake is its own thing too! Isn’t coffee cake just… cake... that you, like... serve with coffee? It doesn't have coffee in it! Why the fuck does it have coffee in it?"

Does the man even hear himself? You're trying to figure out if you need to call an ambulance, and he is arguing with you on the technicalities of what constitutes coffee cake.

"Okay, wait, but are you dying?" you ask, trying to stay calm despite the pandemonium of panic ringing in your head. 

"No! I'm just intoxitac– intocita– intoshica– I'm just fucking drunk okay!?" he spits out.

Your brain stalls at his statement. Intoxicated!? When did he have time to drink? He seemed fine just a few minutes ago, but now he's slurring and about to topple over.

"You're drunk? How–"

"Spiders get drunk on coffee," he interrupts, and the flush on his cheek deepens to a deep alarming red. If you didn't know better, you'd almost think he was blushing.

"Okay, let's sit you down." You rush over, rounding your dining table as you reach for him.

At the sight of your extended hands, his eyes widen in alarm, He steps back from you, eyeing you like you're something dangerous.

"No. No, I'm–" he takes another step backwards, flinging himself away from your touch, but loses his footing in the process. He tilts over, hand grappling for the edge of the table as he goes, but instead of the edge he manages to take the cake plate with him on the way down.

There's a clank of shattered porcelain, followed by the loud thud of his body hitting the ground.

With the large size of him in your tiny studio apartment and the breaking of porcelain left and right, this feels like the idiom of a bull running wild in a China shop, come to life.

You reach out your hand to help him get up, but he doesn't acknowledge it, anchoring his elbow to the floor for leverage, only to wobble and fall flat against his back again with an angry curse.

Why is he so goddamned stubborn? 

You glance down at him, this gigantic man that is lying sprawled out on the floor with the gravitas of a turtle trapped on its back. He's so huge that he's eating up half of the floor space of your entire home. If he doesn’t get up, you won't be able to take two steps without accidentally stepping on him.

Shaking your head in disbelief at the ridiculousness of the situation, you hunch down on your knees beside him.

There's hesitation etched in those otherworldly crimson eyes as you come near. But as much as he's scowling at you, baring his fangs and trying to look scary, there isn't much he can do from the floor.

"Let me help you," you insist, "let's get you in bed until it wears off. I can't have you passed out on my floor like this."

He takes your outstretched hand, and you pull backwards, trying to bring him up with you. Between the two of you, you manage to get him on his feet again. Barely. 

Whoa.

You crane your head up, up, up til you meet his eyes. Yup, the man is still huge. Must be damn near 7 feet tall and heavy, and you quickly realize there's not much you can do but try to steer so that he falls in the direction of your bed.

Somehow you manage to shepherd him in the right direction, until his knees hit the edges of your bed. He lands with a dramatic thud and you hear your bed frame groan in protest. 

“Do you need anything?” you ask, but he doesn’t answer you. His broad arm drapes over his eyes, blocking you out. 

You sigh, turning on your heels to clean up the mess of coffee cake and broken plates off your floor.

You barely manage to finish sweeping up the floor before you hear soft snoring filling your home.

Knock-off Spiderman is sound asleep, his large shape curled up on your mattress, entirely still.

You settle yourself back at the dining table, eating the leftover coffee cake as you pull up a book on your phone and wait for him to wake.

This was not how you had imagined your first extended interaction would turn out.

Honestly, you can't make sense of any of your interactions with him. How he's constantly avoiding you, yet can't seem to stay away and routinely checks in on you.

How he acts overly familiar in one instance and excessively rude and put off by you the next.

Maybe you remind him of someone else... Maybe even an ex? It feels weird to speculate, but it would explain a lot of things. His belligerent attitude towards you. The way he looks at you with eyes full of resentment, even as he's saving you from certain death. That look in his eyes like he knows you, even though you've never met him.

It doesn't explain how he knows your name though.

From the bed, you can hear him stir, shifting against the mattress with a quiet groan muffled into your pillow. He's softly murmuring something that you can't quite make out, and then he turns in his sleep again, making a pained noise that makes worry squeeze tight in your chest.

Maybe letting him sleep it off wasn't the brightest idea you've had. You probably should've called for the ambulance as soon as he showed physical signs of distress.

You're not a biologist. You don't know how a hybrid spider-human’s physiology works.

What if he's not just drunk? Whoever heard of coffee making someone drunk! And how could it affect him so quickly? There was barely a minute between him stuffing his face and falling all over the place. Some quick, panicked googling confirms that coffee makes spiders a kind of drunk, but it doesn’t say if it’s outright toxic to them.

Oh fuck, what if he's dying!? Oh god, what if a superhero dies in your bed? How will you explain this to your landlord? Or the police! “I fed him coffee cake, and it killed him, officer.” Right, that’s going to go over like a lead balloon! It’ll probably look like you poisoned him. TMZ will be swarming the place. You'll be classified as a supervillain.

Setting down the book, you make your way over to sit on the edge of your bed. You lean over his sleeping form and peer down at him, checking for any signs of physical distress.

That red flush from earlier is still riding high on his cheeks, looking like the beginnings of a fever. You reach out your hand to rest it on his forehead to check his temperature.

Warm.

He stirs at the touch, turning his face and practically nuzzles into your palm. It’s almost endearing as he buries his sharp nose into your wrist.

You hold your breath, worried that exhaling would be loud enough to wake him as you gaze down on him. Up close like this, when he's not being rude, and stubborn and defensive, he's... quite attractive.

He has the kind of sculpted face that Hollywood dreams are made of, angular jaw and a prominent nose that makes him look regal. Not to mention those chiselled cheeks of his are a fucking marvel to look at. But more than that, curled up asleep in your bed, there’s a gentle softness to his features that hadn’t been noticeable when he was awake.  

Now that  he’s not frowning down at you and the line of his mouth isn’t pulled into an angry snarl, you can see that his lips are full and luscious, delicate even. His heavy brows look less intimidating now that his face has relaxed from its perpetual scowl. 

He looks... soft, somehow.

There's a spark of something heated in your veins that has you feeling flushed and warm. You have to turn your eyes, shaking your head and tutting at yourself, because you’re creeping on the drunk guy passed out on your bed, and it’s not a good look on you. 

The commotion makes him stir, his eyes blink softly open. He looks up at you, with half-lidded eyes, and it's different from how he's looked at you up until now. His gaze is still so…. soft.

"Nena," he says quietly.

Your cheeks warm at the warmth in his voice , and you gently pull your hand away from his forehead.

"Sorry, I was just checking if you were okay," you explain awkwardly as you start to back away from him, sliding your knee along the mattress to climb off the bed.

At your movement, he darts upright into a seated position and pulls you to him, clinging onto every inch of you as he buries his face to your side. 

“Don't go,” he murmurs into your neck. His voice is trembling, and you can feel the panic radiating from him as the grip he has on you tightens until it’s bruising.  

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he says, keeps repeating it. You don’t know what he’s apologizing for but the guilt and sadness in his voice tugs at something deep inside your chest. 

Nena, he said, and you realize that even though you're the one he's holding in this moment, he's not talking to you. He thinks you're someone else.

"Please don't leave me again. I-I can't–" he chokes out the words into the hollow of your throat where he's pressed his face tight into your skin. You can't help but notice the damp wetness that gathers there. "I'm trying, but I can't– I don't know how to do this without you."

The words are raw in his throat, and despite your confusion, your chest squeezes tight with a sympathetic ache at the man's obvious heartbreak.

You don't know what's going on here or who he thinks you are. The only thing you know is that you want to make him feel better. To make his hurt a little less painful. To make the consuming guilt you can hear in his voice a little bit smaller. 

"It's okay," you say. 

What the it refers to, you have no idea. But the least you can do is to give the man who has saved your life over and over, a tiny crumb of comfort.

You return his embrace, circling an arm around his shoulder, matching the tightness with which he’s holding you. Your other hand slides into his hair and he shivers at the touch, face burying deeper into your neck.

"I'll protect you,” he murmurs into your skin, “I can do better this time. Keep you safe. I promise.”

"It's okay. It’s okay. I’m already safe," you reassure him, giving him the only truth you know for sure in this moment, "You saved me."

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: as always to my collaborator on this series, who helps me brainstorm, write, edit and beta-read and everything in between and over with this series. This exists because of her, and I am so grateful to her. The hours I spend shouting into her DMs and bother her on the daily since this series infected my mind. You guys don't know what I put poor @thirstworldproblemss through.

Also to @guruan who was kind enough to read through this and steer me in the right way with the spanish, but also for giving me porn that has kept my brain buzzing for days!!!

Please follow both of these insanely lovely, kind and talented people.

Author's note: the Spanish in this chapter has been left untranslated on purpose, so that it's left ambiguous whether reader speak/understand Spanish. The idea is that if you as a reader understand it, then so does the reader, and vice versa 🥰

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[jejuboo-s]

Silent Boarding Gate [STAGE 1: DENIAL]

[PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5]

Pairing: Design Major!F. Reader x Model!W. Junhui

Genre: Fluff, Smut, & Angst (Fluff will be more prominent as the parts progress)

Synopsis: In which you meet Wen Junhui, an exchange student from China, along the way of accomplishing your dreams. He was a great friend, but you got attached to him. Maybe a little too much.

Warning: Slowburn, arguing, explicit language, Jun gets a little hostile in said argument, masturbation, lots and lots and lots of reader second guessing herself D:

Taglist in the comments due to so much love and support :)

(Please let me know through asks or the comments if you’d like to be in the taglist, @s not mentioned are not able to be tagged ^3^)

You and Jun were a notorious duo—well, more like a rumored couple (which would most likely never happen), in many of your classes. You certainly didn’t mind the fake rumors, but he certainly did.

You plopped yourself on your couch next to your best friend, Junhui; and whilst doing so, you managed to spill a bit of the popcorn from the bowl in your grasp into Jun’s lap.

“____—“ He whined, much like a baby. “I told you you should’ve gotten a bigger bowl, or atleast look like you care that you ruined my favorite stay-at-home sweats with some cheap butter!”

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes at him playfully, “Shut up you big baby,” Before you could get out the next pair of words, he flicked you square in the forehead. “Hey! Leave me alone Junnie, exams are over—this is my, no, our personal way of bonding.”

“Fine fine, just for the sake of bonding.” He sighed, putting emphasis on the ‘bonding’ just to push your buttons a little further.

And you were right, Jun was just being annoying—as he usually is. Yesterday was exam day, and you had exceeded your own expectations, whereas Jun, well, you guys hadn’t really brought up his score yet. But, either way, it was your final exam and you were proud to have ended your last semester on a good note.

“Hey, if you wanna bond, you have to at least do the bare minimum and talk.” Jun ruffled your hair, and you mumbled profanities to yourself.

“Mr. Wen Junhui, respectfully, shut up.” You scoffed, patting your messy hair back into place. “Can we watch the new Little Mermaid movie? Please?”

“What? No! I thought we were watching Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse! You agreed to it!” He whined.

“No, we're watching the Little Mermaid and that’s that!”

“Aweeeee… How come you always get what you want?”

Wiping his hands with a cloth, Jun sighs as he sees his hands, yet again, sweaty. Today’s packing day—and technically, he’s not supposed to be moving yet, however, he has other plans.

He places the last of his boxes outside his and Minghao’s dorm, internally whining when he hears very familiar keys jingling, the noise more prominent each and every step.

Looking up, Jun sees someone he’d usually be more than elated to see—however, right now, he wishes they’d never cared for him in the first place. After all, this was the right thing to do.

“Huh, Junnie?” You stopped, with a somewhat confused and positive look on your face. God how he wishes that he’d never had to tell you. “Why’re you already moving? Are you really that eager—“

“Shut up with your teasing, I’m tired of it.” He bit his lip—did I really say that? “I’m not in the mood for any of your antics right now.”

Jun looks up from the boxes giving you an unfamiliar and more hostile look, watching your soft expression form into something more apprehensive. He wishes he didn’t have to do this, I wish I didn’t have to watch the beautiful laugh on her face fade.

You put your hand on his wrist, caressing the soft and supple skin with your thumb to calm him down, until he shoves you away and pulls back, that is.

“What?… Jun, why are you so hostile today, is something up? You know you could always tell me—“

“No, I told you to shut up. I don’t wanna tell you shit, and I won’t ever tell you shit again if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

You slowly back away, trying to hide the fact a huge lump in your throat was building, and that yout eyes were starting to water. This was what he wanted, it’s what you didn’t expect. It was better to hurt you now than to hurt you later.

“Just leave, I don’t wanna see your face again. Matter of fact—I’m moving to China, so I won’t have to see you ever again.”

“Huh?”

Jun coldly walks back into his dorm, slamming the door to emphasize his so-called hatred. Behind him, he hears yelling from you that he tried to ignore, but what you says really gets in his head.

“Okay, well fuck you too! I don’t even care if you're going to China, I don’t care about you!”

He rests his head on the wall and mumbles,

“乌云无语晕开 [The love I didn’t say then].”

Great, just great, you thought. You scrolled on Snapchat, and looked at everybody's stories. They were all a stupidly clear video of you and Jun arguing—captioned “The infamous couple, broken up?”

And even worse of all, everybody was contacting you to see if you were okay, everyone was claiming Jun was in the wrong, even though you knew damn well they’d probably been texting Jun earlier.

Throwing your phone down onto your bed just when you thought that call was gonna be the last of them, you feel vibration from under your bed’s covers. I wonder who it is this time, you thought.

Taking your phone hesitantly, your breath hitched for a second—it was Minghao.

Minghao was Jun’s best friend since childhood, brother from another mother, basically. And since you are, well, were Jun’s best friend, it wasn’t rare for you to bond at times when Jun wasn’t with you guys.

Minghao and you bonded about things that Jun wouldn’t understand half of the time. But it made him seem like an even more reliable friend, it made it seem like he didn’t stick around just because you were acquainted with Jun; but because you were a good person.

Which is why you were semi-surprised about seeing the incoming call from him, and equally as hesitant to pick it up. But, you didn’t want to ruin yet another friendship so, why not?

Silence rang through the line as you picked up the phone.

“Hey Jun. I’m gonna go use the bathroom, give me a second.”

You bit your lip. Oh he lives with Jun now, I figured. You shrugged it off, you knew Minghao wasn’t the type to secretly tell Jun all your secrets. Right?

“Okay, I’m sorry about that,” He whispered. “You know we live in an apartment together since we moved together, I mean, it’s logical. But I don’t want him to hear what you have to say.”

You hummed in response, hoping the phone would pick up the noise. “So, what exactly did you wanna ask me, Hao?”

“What exactly happened between you and Jun? One day, you guys are best friends who literally have toothbrushes in each other's dorms—and the next you guys are people who’ve never met!”

“Sorry, it’s just all so confusing to me. Jun’s acting more distant and I can’t stand it. And so are you, you would’ve called me by now.” Minghao audibly sighed through the phone.

“It might sound hypocritical but, I just came to check up on him while he’s moving a couple of boxes out. I start joking around, and he just seems to be pissed off with me and,“ A tear falls down your cheek. “He just says a bunch of shit like he doesn’t wanna see me again and he hates me, man, that stuck with me.”

You could hear the surprise in Minghao’s voice when he talks. “Oh, really? He’s been acting like he was the one who got wronged. I’m sorry that happened to you, ____.”

Your hand grew tired of holding the phone up to your ear, so you decided to plop on your bed, phone next to ear. “It’s fine really, Hao. You’re not at fault, you don’t even deserve to be caught up in all this.”

“____, listen.” It caught you by surprise he’d dropped the honorifics, but you didn’t show it. “It was my choice to get caught up in this drama you two have. I could’ve just not called you or ignored Jun.”

“Don’t put the blame on yourself. I know how close you were to Jun and just because you were close and you guys fell apart doesn’t mean it’s your fault. Hell, it’s Jun’s fault and I can admit it as his best friend.”

Choked sobs were heard through the line, and Minghao knew better than to keep talking. “Thank you Hao.” You whispered. “I think I need some time to think for myself though, I’ll call you later. Bye-bye.”

The line fell.

It’d been a couple of months since you and Jun stopped being friends. You had gotten over him, for the most part, of course you still thought of him from time to time and the thoughts would eat you up—you were still better than before, until today.

You were flipping through your favorite TV channels, great every single one’s on an ad break, you thought. And to your horror, the last one, which had usually had to do with modeling, design, photography, etc. had been airing a fashion week runway. And guess who was walking on that fucking runway.

Wen Junhui.

You felt your throat getting drier and drier by the second. However you sat felt uncomfortable, the temperature of the room felt humid and unbearable. Everything didn’t seem right.

His outfit seemed uncomfortable yet it suited his facial features so perfectly, and oh, he dyed his hair blonde? He looked so much more different, and the truth was, you were so fucking into it. You couldn’t bring yourself to switch the channels, you were just waiting for him to cycle back onto the runway to see his next outfit.

The next outfit looked ethereal on him. Since when did he have abs, and when did they get so toned? It was a bold choice for the stylists to not conceal his eyebags, you thought, but it made him so much more appealing and attractive, you hated to admit.

You decided to finally shut off the TV but now you were all hot and bothered. You thought it was ridiculous, ridiculous that you were all shaken up for an ex-best friend. For an ex-crush.

Throwing yourself on your bed, you sighed, rubbing your thighs. Opening Instagram, you searched up the familiar name of Wen Junhui. This is so wrong, you cried out.

Pulling down your shorts, you trailed your fingers up your shirt, down to your breasts, to your stomach and finally to where your panties sat. You moaned at how wet you were.

Two of your fingers dipped down into your sopping hole, and your eyes fluttered shut. Your mouth formed into an O and soft and quiet little gasps came from your mouth.

This is so wrong. So fucking wrong. And you knew it. There was a pit deep in your stomach, and no, it wasn’t the pit in your stomach that you’d normally get from pleasuring yourself. It was from guilt. Pure guilt.

You knew it was wrong, but you kept going, moans growing louder by each and every curl of your finger. Tears bubbling at your eyes, falling onto your pillow thinking if you guys had never argued that day, maybe it’d be his fingers in your pussy right now. Not your own.

“Junnie…” A nickname that now feels foreign slips past your lips, salty tears staining your lips much like a sign to not chant his name. With enough twists of your fingers, you manage to wrap yourself undone, chest rising up and falling back down with each breath.

Sitting up, you sighed. The reality of it all hit you like a truck. You’d never be able to see or talk to Jun ever again. Whether you liked it or not. He was a famous model and you were just some nerd who did graphic design for a living.

But even with all taken, it was still reasonable to have some hope. Right?

jejuboo-s 2023

@itzxvaxella @svtup @nctsslut @dulcecreatura @hertatsu @baekshunnie @staygenezy @ace-of-angels22 @bittersweetells @varverat @areenalight @rzrbladelmnade @whitenana @yukkaaaaa @wonushuasworld @arianabintesharif @lovelyhyuka14 @jeanjacketjesus @emilyhadenbaker @yoonna22 @ni-aaaaaaa @1ntaktak @believeinmagical25 @lostsoul23 @junhour @jaemin9yu @chiefshoebanditalien @dixirwe @muawwo @sleepyyizzyy @jiniesclub @anna-357 @sugar8 @seokcrafts @svtgivesmesvts @cowmilk0 @mcpl @jackeline3302 @snsdswrld @booitschoco @jnhthy @woohui @imbnpreader @pakaosta @anama34 @rikiswife05 @sulkygyu @h-ao @moonie-junnie @calssunflower @kpopfan1130 @jarak0j @yayitslauraaa @inner19daysinteriorshound @undercoveemafiaa @wwsfg @kim-hunter5 @peachesjvn @weeee-eeee @this-cool-chick @xiaovenmisser @jun-cat @gyuldaengie6 @creativetaehan @subsikkie people who couldn’t be tagged in comments ^^