#make sense to me that a Miguel who could desert this fate wouldn’t just. do that.

[fellhellion]

It’s kind of hard make analysis with comic backstory seeing as how we don’t know what elements spiderverse will adapt/change for their conception of the character, but having read a couple issues so far only makes me more curious about what Miguel’s injection in the character intro is about.

I don’t think it’s Rapture or something designed to mitigate the effects of Rapture because of the spider dna visual and man. That would just be kicking the guy when he’s down. Not to mention he doesn’t show anything similar to battling it’s side effects.

Probably something to stabilise the genetic rewrite then???

[ashnadir]

bumblingbrujo:

Miguel shook his head. He didn’t want to sound like he was condoning cults. “Maybe not cult-y. But the best religions do have Día de Muertos celebrations. Or at least a benevolent goddess with no flesh and jaw agape to swallow the stars… La Muerte sure is a doll, isn’t she?” Miguel could talk about La Muerte for ages. She was one of the reasons why Mexican carrion witches weren’t the pariahs they were in other cultures. 

“That’s putting it lightly,” he said with a chuckle. Guadalupe loved him, he was sure, because they were family and they had to love each other. But he was also sure she didn’t like him at all. 

“You’re absolutely right.” And like always Iann had cut to the bone with a single sentence. “A High Priestess shouldn’t be brought down by a blood clot.” He shrugged. “Yet here we are.” He smiled softly at the contact. He felt like he was a sucker for touch, or maybe it just meant more to him because of how much he could feel when someone touched him. 

A Gemini. That explained it. Miguel laughed. “That must be it. We’re soulmates.” If someone believed in that kind of thing, which Miguel wasn’t too sure about but he knew witches, and non-witches, who would swear by astrology. “Opposites attract all that.” He leaned back in his chair and smiled. He didn’t know if he believed in soulmates, but if he did he wouldn’t be surprised if Iann was it. Or at least fated to meet each other, destiny much have been drawing them together for some reason. If there was one thing Miguel definitely didn’t believe in, it was coincidence. 

“Oh none taken. She’s dumb even for a witch familiar,” he explained. Since there was no malice in him when he said it, and Molly could only feel his emotions (not really understand words), he was safe from any ire from her. “She’s more like a really smart regular dog than a real familiar… though it’s wild for me navigating that in this town. A lot of people insist on treating her like a person and I don’t know what to do with it.” 

Iann smacked the armrest of his chair suddenly, sitting up and pointing at Miguel in excitement.  “Cinco de Mayo in what--” Iann looked at his watch.  “--a few days!!  Let’s do something. I thought about doing something with the Inn but fuck it.  Let’s just you-and-me it.”  

That felt better, in Iann’s opinion, than making a big public deal of Cinco de Mayo.  Because making it public meant he’d have to explain it and then it felt too personal and overly extravagant for something that was more about his own enjoyment (and conversely, that he felt so removed from growing up in Portland, that he worried about doing his heritage ‘right’.  Penny used to call him a coconut) and blahhh it would just become A Thing. And Iann avoided Things at his expense, whenever he could.

But hanging out with Miguel for Cinco de Mayo?  Yes, yes.  A thousand times, yes.

“Ayyyy if only my friend’s fiance was in town.  Then we’d make it a party.  He’s Chicano too,” Iann explained, but didn’t really volunteer much else about Lilo Lopez.  Iann and Lilo weren’t exactly...friends, after all, despite what they’d gone through together.

“Pero Santa Muerte, ayyy si claro claro.  My Ma was una mujer Guadalupe,” Iann said fondly, remembering the shrine to La Virgen in Mala’s closet.  It made sense when Miguel said it though, the connection between La Muerte and the Desert Leaves.  It all sort of fell into place in Iann’s head, without Miguel needing to explain.

That connection.  That understanding was what Iann wanted, for Cinco de Mayo.  No need to explain. It was just understood.

“How long ago?” Iann asked, about when Miguel’s mother died. But he raised his glass of beer towards Miguel, a silent tribute to their mothers.  “To Ma, huh?”

After taking a couple gulps, Iann’s eyes brightened to sillier topics.  “We’re opposites?  I know some astrology for research but I never really got into it for myself.”

He nodded at Miguel’s explanation of the dog (he’d forgotten its name already) and waved his hand. “That’s on account of the fairies.  It makes sense; you want to be respectful to any creature that’s a ‘familiar’ just in case.  Because you don’t know who’s a pet or who’s an integral part of a person.”

preguntas