#spider-man 2 turns 20

[the-imaginative-hobbyist]

Happy 20th to one of the best superhero movies ever...I'll never forget seeing it for the first time at a midnight showing, it was quite the experience.

Follow @the-imaginative-hobbyist for more content like this.

[vertigoartgore]

Spider-Man 2 publicity still with Tobey Maguire as Peter Parker.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗔𝗧 𝗛𝗘𝗥 max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . while on a drive, lando's car breaks down and you're the best mechanic in town.”

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests | taglist )

"Now my phone's dead too." Lando scoffed throwing his phone on the leather seat. He's been standing at the side of the blue carbon covered £380,00+ car for the past 20 minutes. He was in the middle of utterly no where, with no cars passing by ( the people that did stop, happen to not speak English nor Flemish Dutch for that matter yes lando tried speaking dutch to italians ).

What a lucky day.

And it was about to get a lot luckier when another car passing by stopped after Norris waved over. "I need help, with the car." He tried saying slowly, switching to Dutch to try his chances.

"I can . . . I can help push it? to uh . . . car doctor?" "Yes, car doctor, that would be great. Thank you." And so after about 2 hours of hard work, the two men ( well one man, one boy lando small ) arrived at a town where several other men came and helped Lando to the mechanics shop.

"Ask kiku. Uhhh . . . Kiku help with car. Very good."

Lando made sure to thank everyone before they left, going through the door. "Un momento per favore." [one moment please]. A female voice shouted through the garage, she was laying on a skateboard rolled under a car.

"Matteo!" she shouted again startling Lando. "Matteo. Porta qui il tuo culo e aiuta quel dannato uomo." [Matteo. Get your ass over here and help the god damn man]. 'Matteo' seemed to have either passed out and taken a nap or walked out. "marcire All 'inferno . . . Cosa c'è che non va nella tua auto?" [rot in hell . . . what's wrong with your car] You asked giving up on finding your co worker.

"I'm sorry?" Lando asked again feeling nervous in this situation, making you pause your tweaking. You rolled from under the car, looking at the British driver. "There shouldn't be anything wrong with your car." You spoke in English, fluently, rolling back under and continuing with the wrench.

"You didn't even take a look at my car-" He was stuttering. Lando was surprised and shocked. It's not everyday you run into a hot Italian women, that can fix cars and speaks English like she's from Chicago or Milton.

"What did you do to it. Were you racing with it? Drifting? Rallying? Or did you completely destroyed it, cause I don't have any carbon fiber or fancy doors and steering wheels."

"No." He replied to all of your questions. "Then it's fine. There's a gas station two roads south from here-" "You don't even know what the model of the car is." He argued, not believing you.

"You're Lando Norris, aren't you? its a 765LT Spider, McLaren." You answered with no hesitation, making the boy zip his mouth. "What do you want, Mr. Norris?" You asked again getting annoyed.

"I was told to look for, uh, Kiku was it?" He said unsurely. You sighed, grumbling a few Italian cuss words under your breath as you finished your current task. Rolling out, you stood up, lifting your tank top and wiping your face dry from the sweat, which in turn smudged some grease on your face.

Fuck not being attracted to Italian female mechanics, you were hot. Very attractive in Lando's eyes.

"I'm Kiku." You told him, handing him the greasy wrench. It was a stupid nickname a few friends gave you as a joke, and it stuck. You looked out at his car hand on your hip as you examined it. "Can you turn it on?" You asked as you approached it, ready to open the back trunk and check the engine.

Lando looked grossed out at the wrench, setting it on a random surface as he unlocked the truck. You examined the car for the next 15 minutes. "I can give it back tomorrow. It's not a big problem. Like I said, you're just out of gas."

"But the measure doesn't say that. And If it's just out of gas, shouldn't you be able to give it back today?" "Yeah. That's the problem, your fuel sender is lying to you and I have to change it." You patted his back, moving back into your garage.

"But I can't stay here forever." "What's wrong with this place?" You asked frowning, looking him in the eye. Lando was going to open his mouth before he closed it quickly. "Nothing I just don't-" why was he rushing? He didn't have places to be at the moment. ". . . I don't have a place to stay?" He answered, more like asked from how unsure of himself he was.

You looked at him for a few seconds. "You can wait over there, just don't touch anything." You told him sighing, nodding towards a few chairs near your office.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I'm not getting in." Lando refused, looking at your green car. Well it wasn't any green car. It was a classic, a Ferrari 250 gte. Highlight Ferrari. "Yeah, I'm definitely not getting it."

"Suit yourself, the coyotes here would not pass on eating you alive." You joked, not even sure if there were coyotes. "It's not everyday you get to eat a formula one driver, especially a British McLaren driver named Norris." Yea that statement did it for Lando, quickly getting in the car and closing the door after him.

"Good boy." You humed, not really thinking about it as you pulled out the driveway and made your way home. Lando could feel his face redden, hearing your praise, crossing his arms and huffing.

When you arrived at your house, the McLaren diver was quick to jump out first. "Think fast." Lando turned around, quickly catching the keys you tossed. He dropped them once he saw the yellow and black logo with a yelp.

You were laughing at him, moving to his side and picking up the keys, moving towards the house. "casa mia è casa tua." you told him as soon as you unlocked the door. Landor entered after you, copying you as you took your shoes off. The first thing the British driver felt was warmth, your space was giving him solace. This place felt like home.

"You can look around, I'm not going to take long in the shower." You set your bag down on the floor near the couch, making your way to the bathroom. Land did look around, he felt curious. You clearly knew him but he knew so little about you. While scouting for information he found your collection of music discs.

When finally came out fresh, Lando was quick to ask you about a few pictures he found. You two were quickly becoming close with one another. Sharing stories and jokes.

"What about this one?" Lando pointed to one on the grand piano. "Oh yea, I can totally see the picture, Mr. Norris." You chuckled. You were busy with your hands, making dinner for both of you ( you usually ordered out but it world be rude to do that with a guest around so you were putting your heart out in the spaghetti you wee making from scratch, something you knew would impress the McLaren driver ).

Lando picked up the photo frame walking over to you. "Why do you keep calling me by my last name? I have a first name, or did you forget." He chuckled looking at you. "Cause your first name sounds like London." You teased joking. It was out of respect, you did not want to get on his bad side, and it did sound like London just a bit.

Lando smiled laughing. "Well, I'd rather you call me by my first name." "Of course, Mr. Norris." You teased, leaning your forearms on the counter, flicking some flower on his face. He only held up the photo in return. "Oh, I remember this." You hummed, wiping your hand in a towel, taking the photo.

"It was before the last race for the European karting championship. I think I was . . . eleven in that picture?" Lando moved beside you looking down at it. You were in your kart, with your helmet on holding a thumbs up.

You took a moment looking at the photo, your father was sitting beside you on the floor, delivering the kart it's last few tweaks before the race. "You karted?" Lando asked, ruining the moment.

"No." You sarcastically replied, pushing the picture on his chest. "I flew planes at the age of two." You rolled your eyes. "Did you win?" "Hell yeah, I did. Do I look like some weak ass sissy?" You replied laughing. "That championship was mine. I Literally beat up Albon and Leclerc. "

"Really?" He was interested, leaning forward to listen closely. "What else did you race in?" "Just that really." You shrugged smiling. "Other than the karting track a few blocks down." "There's a karting track a few blocks down?" You looked at him blinking quietly. "I think answered your question before you answered it."

The boy looked away chuckling nervously. "Right." "I can drop you off tomorrow morning while I fix your car." You offered as you gently cooked the chicken alfredo. "Really?" You looked back at him deadpanning. "I mean, I'd enjoy that. Thank you."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Hey, I never got to ask, why didn't you continue with racing? You won the championship after all. We could've been competing in f1 together." The sun had already risen again and Lando was unwillingly sitting in your car as you drove through the town. "Not everyone is high born, Norris." You sighed, shrugging. "It's my cannon event. Besides, I'm happy like this."

After finally fixing the lying fuel measure, you drove the McLaren to the karting track, honking the horn to get the attention of the race car driver.

Turning back from the fence, Lando smiled upon seeing you lean on the blue carbon in the car park. "You fixed her!" "Of course I did." You chuckled, tossing him his keys once he was close enough. "You're free to go Mr. Norris." You chuckled getting off the McLaren and patting his back. "I don't need to leave just yet . . . by the way do you have plans next week?" "Why what are you up to."

lando.jpg

lando.jpg lesson learned, always carry a portable car mechanic with you

alex_albon ease my heart and tell me thats not who i think it is ↳ youruser long time no see alex ↳ alex_albon THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPLES YOU ↳ user 💀

charles_leclerc omg ew, kart theif ↳ youruser you're ew, you took my kart first! ↳ charles_leclerc it was a good kart ↳ alex_albon your only win ↳ charles_leclerc THATS MEAN

user who's that ↳ maxverstappen1 a nightmare ↳ youruser hey max ↳ maxverstappen1 BEGONE DEMON

[marlsswrites]

Summer camp AU part 2!!

July 2nd <3

Doctor - @jegulus-microfic - words: 924

Previous part

They walked in total silence, and Regulus was fine with that. It was about a five minute walk through the woods, onto the cobblestone path and towards the entry gates, where they would greet the kids and show them their cabins. Easy.

But Potter didn’t seem okay with the silence, he was doing as told because he got told to shut up multiple times by Regulus. His hands were toying with the gold chain around his neck, he kept ruffling his hair every few minutes and chewing on his lip nervously.

Don’t ask Regulus why he payed so much attention to the Potter boys mannerisms, he just did. No further questions.

After another minute, Regulus felt something sharp and rough catch on his ankle, a vine.

��Fuck!” He hissed as he fell to the floor, James stopping in his tracks and rushing over to him. God, his stupid cute savour complex makes Regulus feel sick.

His ankle was throbbing, he winced as he moved his ankle to the side. “Shit, are you okay? Do you need a doctor?” The older boy panicked, offering Regulus a hand to pull him up. “Can you stand?”

Regulus grabbed James’ unusually soft hand, feeling the coldness of his golden rings as he pulled Regulus from the floor.

Letting out a breath, Regulus examined his foot, it looked quite bad, but that was just from the thorns that sliced his ankle. He seemed to be able to walk fine.

“It’s okay-“ He winced. “I think.” He took a few steps forward, showing that he could walk. The concerned look didn’t wipe from James’ face as he did so. “Really, it looks worse than it is.” He walked towards the brunette, twisting his ankle round a few times and offering a slight smile to show it.

God, he’s going soft.

“Are you sure?” He sweetly spoke, tilting his head to the side.

Regulus nodded and hummed. “Yeah, don’t worry.” He reassured, it was slightly sore, but he could deal. The last thing he wanted was to have James Potter babying him all day.

The frown finally left James’ face, replacing it with a satisfied smile that looked much better on his face.

-

Regulus hit his head against the tree behind him, he thought kids started to get quieter when they hit 13… apparently not.

“Where’s Hannah?” One of them spoke loudly.

He huffed out a loud breath, James giving him a helpless look.

“I’m here!” Someone else hollered, presumably Hannah.

“Spider!!” Another one squealed.

“Wimp!” A fourth voice shouted.

Pushing himself away from the tree, he cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled. “Everyone shut up!”

Silence dawned on the group, 20 pairs of eyes landing on him. “I think you’re supposed to be a bit nicer.” James spoke with a wary smile.

“Well it worked didn’t it Potter?” He challenged, the other man shrugged and started to talk.

“Okay! I’m James, this is Regulus,” He pointed towards Regulus, who gave a tired nod. “Today we’ll just be getting you settled into your homes for the next few weeks…”

Regulus zoned out as James explained the rules of the camp, he let himself admire James for a moment. The way the sunlight turned his skin golden, his hair shining on the sun and his smile wide matched with his sunny bright eyes.

He snapped out of it, glaring at his shoes for a while. No, we’re not doing that, he thought to himself. Fuck.

Five minutes later, the groups were splitting off into boys and girls, when a timid looking teen walked up to him, a wary look on their face.

“Uh, Regulus is it?” Regulus nodded. “I’m not a boy, or a girl… I- where do I go?” They sighed. “I’m June.” They gave a smile.

Regulus let himself smile back. “Wherever you want, it’s up to you. I’d say it’s a privilege if you ask me.” He gave a chuckle, June laughing along slightly.

“Really? So I can go with my friends?”

“Yeah, where are they?” Regulus questioned.

They pointed to someone with two blue braids hung over their shoulders in the group of girls, who looking over at them with a worried and caring look. “That’s Hayley, my best friend. I can house with her then?”

“Of course, if anyone gives you any issues come to me or James, we’ll sort it out.” He gave a sweet smile.

“Thank you so much.” June beamed and ran over to their friend, hugging her and jumping up and down excitedly, Regulus couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two.

Within all of that, he didn’t notice the man approaching behind him. “You’re actually quite sweet aren’t you?” He whipped his head around in shock, greeted with the smiling face of James Potter, who looked overjoyed.

“No I’m not.” He snapped. “And stop sneaking up on me!”

James pouted, a smile still lingering on his lips. “Why is it you’re only mean to me?”

“I’m not that mean to you.” Regulus lied though his teeth.

“Sure you aren’t.” He ruffled Regulus’ raven curls, earning a scowl from the younger boy, but there was an obvious tilt to his lips and flush to his freckled pale skin as James’ wide brown eyes locked with his stormy grey ones.

While walking the kids to the cabins, James would lag behind and check on Regulus’ ankle every once in a while. Why was he so caring? Regulus didn’t have an utter clue how to react to that, it was just… weird.

Next part

[animusrox]

LETTERBOXD

1.   The Batman 2.   Everything Everywhere All at Once 3.   Prey 4.   Triangle of Sadness 5.   Barbarian 6.  The Northman 7.   Bodies Bodies Bodies 8.   The Banshees of Inisherin 9.   Bones and All 10.   Avatar: The Way of Water

Grade A

11.   Turning Red 12.   The Menu 13.   Babylon 14.   Hit the Road 15.   Cow 16.   Watcher 17.   Funny Pages 18.   Mad God 19.   On the Count of Three 20.   Armageddon Time 21.   Terrifier 2 22.   Marcel the Shell with Shoes On 23.   Smile 24.   Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery 25.   Holy Spider 26.   Aftersun 27.   The Fabelmans 28.   Breaking 29.   Decision to Leave 30.   The Whale 31.   All Quiet on the Western Front 32.   Brian and Charles 33.   Piggy 34.   Saint Omer 35.   Thirteen Lives 36.   Men 37.   The Fallout 38.   Resurrection 39.   Causeway 40.  The Black Phone 41.   Official Competition 42.   Nope 43.  Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio 44.   Apollo 10½: A Space Age Childhood 45.   Till 46.   TÁR 47.   Happening 48.   A Love Song 49.   The Outfit 50.   The Innocents 51.   Jackass Forever 52.   BARDO, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths 53.   Montana Story 54.   Three Thousand Years of Longing 55.   You Won’t Be Alone 56.   The Sadness 57.   Halloween Ends 58.   Pearl 59.   X 60.   Vesper

Click "Keep Reading” For My Full List

Grade B

61.   This Place Rules 62.   Fresh 63.   Windfall 64.   Kimi 65.   No Exit 66.   Top Gun: Maverick 67.   “Sr.” 68.   Farha 69.   The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent 70.   Weird: The Al Yankovic Story 71.   Nitram 72.   Speak No Evil 73.   Run Sweetheart Run 74.   She Said 75.   White Noise 76.   Puss in Boots: The Last Wish 77.   V/H/S/99 78.   The Wonder 79.   Women Talking 80.   Hatching 81.   Soft & Quiet 82.   Scream 83.   To Leslie 84.   Hustle 85.   Chip ’n Dale: Rescue Rangers 86.   Dual 87.   God’s Country 88.   Emancipation 89.   Vengeance 90.   Fire of Love 91.   Bullet Train 92.   Incantation 93.   The Valet 94.   Hellraiser 95.   Christmas Bloody Christmas 96.   Significant Other 97.   Cha Cha Real Smooth 98.   Lucy and Desi 99.   Not Okay 100.   A Christmas Story Christmas 101.   Blonde 102.   Deadstream 103.   Sissy

Grade C

104.   The Bad Guys 105.   The Cursed 106.   Empire of Light 107.   A Man Called Otto 108.   Broker 109.   Black Panther: Wakanda Forever 110.   The Princess 111.   Beast 112.   After Yang 113.   RRR 114.   Fall 115.   Jackass 4.5 116.   Beavis and Butt-Head Do the Universe 117.   Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness 118.   Jennifer Lopez: Halftime 119.   Lightyear 120.   The Pale Blue Eye 121.   The Woman King 122.   Violent Night 123.   God’s Creatures 124.   Ambulance 125.   Elvis 126.   You Are Not My Mother 127.   Emily the Criminal 128.   Crimes of the Future 129.   The Apology 130.   The Lost City 131.   Wendell & Wild 132.   Trainwreck: Woodstock ’99 133.   The Found Footage Phenomenon 134.   See How They Run 135.   Spiderhead 136.   Studio 666 137.   Bros 138.   Spin Me Round 139.   We’re All Going to the World’s Fair 140.   Paws of Fury: The Legend of Hank 141.   Honor Society

Grade D

142.   Thor: Love and Thunder 143.   Summering 144.   Strange World 145.   Glorious 146.   The Gray Man 147.   Devotion 148.   Clerks III 149.   The Forgiven 150.   Enola Holmes 2 151.   Father Stu 152.   Jurassic World Dominion 153.   DC League of Super-Pets 154.   She Will 155.   The Bob’s Burgers Movie 156.   Whitney Houston: I Wanna Dance with Somebody 157.   Hellbender 158.   Samaritan 159.   Day Shift 160.   Sonic the Hedgehog 2 161.   Prey for the Devil 162.   Troll 163.   Uncharted 164.  Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile 165.   Dashcam 166.   Firestarter 167.   Do Revenge 168.   Catwoman: Hunted 169.   The Munsters 170.   Amsterdam 171.   Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore

Grade F

172.   Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris 173.   The Bubble 174.   Dead for a Dollar 175.   Jerry & Marge Go Large 176.   Honk for Jesus. Save Your Soul. 177.   Infinite Storm 178.   Marry Me 179.   Don’t Worry Darling 180.   Spirited 181.   Disney's Pinocchio 182.   Alice 183.   Black Adam 184.   Orphan: First Kill 185.   The Adam Project 186.   The Invitation 187.   Texas Chainsaw Massacre 188.   Ticket to Paradise 189.   The 355 190.   Umma

Bottom 10

191.   Green Lantern: Beware My Power 192.   Deep Water 193.   Where the Crawdads Sing 194.   Blacklight 195.   Mack & Rita 196.   Memory 197.   Me Time 198.   Death on the Nile 199.   Morbius 200.   Moonfall

[gegengestalt]

131 useless or often forgotten facts in The Brothers Karamazov!

This 27 of April is the second anniversary of the day I finished this book for the first time. To do something special, I reread it over the last 20 days and as I did it, I compiled little things that are easy to forget in these 1000 pages filled with food for thought. Let's go!

1. Mitya fought in a duel, though it's most likely that nobody died in it.

2. Ivan's journalist pseudonym is "Eyewitness".

3. Alyosha, in his own words, came back to Skotoprigonyevsk to visit his mother's grave.

4. Fyodor Pavlovich owns several taverns in the district.

5. Grigory was the one who gave Sofia Ivanovna a proper gravestone.

6. Alyosha is one deduction away from becoming a communist.

7. The Brothers Karamazov begins in late August.

8. Kalganov is supposedly Alyosha's friend. This is never mentioned ever again.

9. Kalganov gave one coin to some beggars and told them to divide it among themselves.

10. There is a rumour that the previous elder beat people with sticks. This is false.

11. Alyosha is the only person in the monastery who knows that Rakitin is an atheist, and keeps his secret.

12. Four years ago, Pyotr Miusov divulged a fake story about a saint making out with his own decapitated head. Fyodor never forgot.

13. Madame Khokhlakov is only 33 years old. She has been a widow for 5 years, meaning Lise lost her father at age 9.

14. Zosima's serenity in front of the woman who confesses to a murder may foreshadow his later recollection of having a murder confessed to before.

15. Zosima likes to make jokes.

16. Lise and Alyosha last saw each other two years before.

17. Reminder that Grushenka met Mitya because Fyodor wanted her help to throw Mitya into a debtors' prison.

18. Kuzma Samsonov is the mayor of Skotoprigonyevsk.

19. Ivan rambled to Dmitri and Katerina about how he thinks Rakitin will be a failed journalist turned landlord.

20. Fyodor Pavlovich's house is filled with rats.

21. The Miusov family had their own private theatre.

22. Lizaveta Smerdyashchaya was a bit over 142cm/4'7 tall.

23. In 1842 there was a runaway convict called Karp commiting crimes in Skotoprigonyevsk.

24. Marya Kondratievna's mother is missing a leg.

25. Mitya ghosted a girl in real life.

26. Katerina's mother died when she was young.

27. Mitya had a fever for two weeks once because of a spider bite.

28.Mitya thought Grushenka was "nothing striking" the first time he saw her.

29. Mitya was squatting in his neighbour's rented room.

30. Fyodor Pavlovich has a portrait of the former provincial governor in his house.

31. Fyodor Pavlovich goes to sleep at 3- 4AM, like Dostoyevsky himself.

32. Sofia Ivanovna was being courted by a rich man called Beliavsky while she was married.

33. Who was the woman coming from the alley that Mitya mistook for Grushenka? I still wonder.

34. A cheap glass jar was destroyed during Mitya's frenzied break- in.

35. Katerina sends two detailed reports a week to her surrogate mother figure who lives in Moscow.

36. Katerina has an aquarium.

37. Alyosha sleeps using his monk habit as a blanket.

38. Father Ferapont survives eating nothing more than 1,6kg of bread a week.

39. Ivan had told his father about his feelings for Katerina, for some reason.

40. When Alyosha kissed his father, he had the impression that Alyosha was thinking that it was their last conversation.

41. Madame Khokhlakova owns three houses as property.

42. Madame Khokhlakova and Katerina Ivanovna are supposedly great friends.

43. Ivan reads Schiller when nobody is looking.

44. One of Snegiryov's daughters, Varvara, is invested in feminism.

45. Captain Snegiryov's childhood friend is a lawyer.

46. Mitya spilled cognac over the table of the summerhouse.

47. Smerdyakov sings in falsetto.

48. Marya Kondratievna is the only one who ever calls Smerdyakov 'Pavel Fyodorovich'.

49. Ivan uses Smerdyakov as a messenger.

50. Dmitri and Katerina had been engaged for around six months.

51. Ivan's right shoulder looks lower than the left one when he walks.

52. Smerdyakov often moves the tip of his right foot from side to side when he stands (adorable).

53. Dmitri's favourite death threats are "pounding in a mortar" and "breaking legs".

54. Grigory suffers from paralysis three times a year.

55. The real name of 'Lyagavy' is Gorstkin.

56. Zosima's real name is "Zinovy".

57. There was actually another old German doctor before Herzenstube and he was named Eisenschmidt.

58. Zosima has known Brother Anfim for forty years.

59. The Bible is thrown once.

60. Madame Khokhlakova asked Rakitin to go to the funeral as her eye.

61. Alyosha was hiding behind the grave of starets Iov, who lived 105 years.

62. Zosima was harshly criticized for telling a monk hallucinating to take his meds if praying doesn't work.

63. Both Grushenka and Rakitin are children of deacons.

64. Samsonov is the only person that Grushenka seems to be completely and clearly sincere with.

65. Likewise, Samsonov only trusts her when it comes to counting money.

66. Samsonov has the entire first floor of his house for himself.

67. Mitya tells many of his secrets to his landlords, who are fond of him.

68. Alongside eggs and bread, Mitya grabbed and ate a piece of sausage that he "found".

69. Mitya and Perkhotin first met at the Metropolis tavern.

70. Mitya's dueling pistols are his "most prized possessions".

71. Madame Khokhlakova apparently borrows money from Miusov.

72. The brass pestle was 17 centimetres long.

73. Mitya spent exactly 300 rubles in food and alcohol in Mokroye, and it would have been 400 if Perkhotin didn't help.

74. Mitya gave a glass of champagne to a kid.

75. The owner of Plotnikov's shop is called Varvara Alexeievna.

76. Two thousand villagers live in Mokroye.

77. Trifon Borissovich makes his younger daughters clean up the messes of every guest of the inn.

78. Pan Wroblewski is 190cm / 6'2 tall.

79. Madame Khokhlakova gets a migraine whenever she has to talk to Mitya.

80. The ispravnik's elder granddaughter is called Olga, and the night of the murder was her birthday.

81. The prosecutor's wife seems very interested in sending for Mitya often, for reasons he doesn't know.

82. Mitya does not know that the epidermis is the outer layer of the skin.

83. Nikolay Parfenovich is the only person in the world who trusts Ippolit Kirillovich.

84. Mitya often dreams that a person that he fears is chasing him and searching for him.

85. Nikolay Parfenovich wears a smoky topaz ring on his middle finger.

86. Pan Wroblewski is a dentist without a license.

87. Kalganov had visited Grushenka once before, but she seemed to dislike him for some reason.

88. Kolya's father died when he was a little baby.

89. There was a plot going on in the background about the doctor's maid having a child out of wedlock.

90. Rakitin often talks with Kolya. Seems like the only person who takes his ideas seriously is a literal child.

91. Smerdyakov and Ilyusha met and talked to each other.

92. Alyosha rarely gets colds.

93. Katerina befriended Snegiryov's sick wife.

94. Kolya was taken to a judge for teaching a guy how to efficiently crack the neck of a goose.

95. Kolya is against women's rights.

96. Mitya and Grushenka spent five weeks secluded and away from each other after the arrest.

97. Grushenka went to see Grigory to try to convince him that the door wasn't open.

98. Rakitin made up in an article that Madame Khokhlakova offered Mitya 3k rubles to run away with her.

99. Madame Khokhlakova doesn't remember Rakitin's patronymic, and calls him "Ivanovich" instead of "Osipovich".

100. Madame Khokhlakova didn't know of the judicial system reform until two days before the trial.

101. Lise sent chocolates to Mitya in jail, even though there's no reference to them ever interacting before.

102. Alyosha has had the same dream about the devils that Lise has.

103. Alyosha is friends with the jail inspector, who often discusses the gospels with him.

104. Mitya spent two entire nights awake since he discovered ethics.

105. Ivan cleans his own room.

106. Smerdyakov shared a hospital room with an agonizing dropsy patient.

107. Mitya's letter had the bill on the other side.

108. Smerdyakov uses garters with his stockings.

109. There is an apple tree in Fyodor's garden.

110. One of Ivan's "most stupid" thoughts is being the fat wife of a merchant.

111. Ivan had a friend named Korovkin when he was 17, the one he told the story of the quadrillion kilometres to.

112. Ivan has another poem named Geological Cataclysm.

113. Alyosha was the first person the distraught Marya Kondratievna ran to.

114. Ivan is mistaken for "the eldest son" twice in the trial.

115. Grigory did not remember he was in 1866.

116. Rakitin knows "every detail" of the biography of Fyodor Pavlovich and all the Karamazovs.

117. Grushenka's surname, Svetlova, means "light".

118. Mitya once dropped 100 rubles while he was drunk.

119. Ivan saw not just the Devil, but people who had died while he walked in the street.

120. Ippolit Kirillovich died nine months after the trial, the first and last day he received applauses.

121. Marfa is dismissed as a suspect simply because they can't imagine her killing.

122. There is a partition wall in Mitya's lodgings.

123. Mitya mostly stopped staring at the floor during the prosecutor's speech whenever Grushenka was mentioned.

124. Fetyukovich bends forward in an unnerving manner when he speaks.

125. An 18 year old street vendor committed axe murder earlier that year.

126. The verdict was given past 1AM, making the trial last almost 16 hours.

127. Katerina kept the sick Ivan in her house knowing it could possibly be harmful to her reputation.

128. Rakitin tried to sneak in to see Mitya in the hospital twice.

129. Lise sent the flowers that adorn Ilyusha's coffin, and Katerina paid for the grave.

130. Snegiryov cries seeing his late son's little boots the same way one of the women at the monastery in the beginning of the book did.

131. At the end, Alyosha mentions "leaving the city for a long time" soon. Where to? We don't know.

If you read this far down, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing all of these down.

[ectologia]

do you have a lil drabble on the brain abt hawks being a lil obsessed w his coworker?

TOP-DOG

KEIGO TAKAMI + FEMALE READER

WARNING: DUBCON/NONCON, WORK-PLACE ABUSE, POWER IMBALANCE, FORCED BREEDING

Oh, I like this one.

Seems very plausible indeed.

Being The No. 2 Pro-Hero Hawks’s personal assistant.

He’ll have you following him everywhere, trailing behind like a little puppy with your little clipboard as he pads about his agency on the phone. Cleaning up his swiftly moulting feathers, plucking the flitting red bristled-brushes from the air and floor after every step.

He’ll turn on his heel to take a subtle glance at your rear, every time you bend down to scoop up one of his floating feathers, rolling a drooling tongue over the grooves of his teeth once he catches that leaky mound of pretty PA pussy hiding under your slitted pencil skirt.

He likes his coffee with lots of cream and lots of sugar. Is it weird to kiss your boss good morning? No, baby. Of course not, now come ‘ere and give your favourite hero a little peck.

He’ll have you placing a nice, wet, sloppy kiss against his stubbled jaw while he sips his coffee, tapping a foot triumphantly as he palms the tent in his cargos with the other hand.

He’s smug, sleazing a cocky grin when he catches you off guard and quickly snaps his head to the side, mashing his lips against yours for a little split-second smooch.

“What’s wrong, chickadee? I’m just showing my favourite assistant how much I appreciate all her hard-work.”

He’ll mouth witty comments and make faces at you during meetings, chuckling behind his palm once he sees your frigid expression unfold beneath his charm.

While you giggle away at his constant innuendos, he’ll have his phone shuttering frantically beneath the table, snapping photo after photo of that tiny wet breeding-slot in between your knees.

You’re such a good little personal assistant for him, he’ll reward you with a gentle massage, kneading and rolling the balls of your shoulders as you attempt to concentrate on the 20 manila folders piled sky-high on-top of your desk.

“Oh, hun.” He’s humming, spidering the thick leather of his gloves down the apex of your ribs until he’s pressing against the small of your back. “You’re so tight here. You must be exhausted, huh?”

“Is your favourite boss working you too hard lately?” His thumb swipes lazily over the two subtle dips just above your waistband.

You’re shaking your head in a panicked frenzy, adjusting the sliding papers that threaten to topple off of your desk. “Uhm.. No, sir..”

“Good girl.” A flat palm comes to tussle your hair about as he strokes you like a prized pet.

After a while, he’ll decide he wants to make things even more personal with you.

You find a grand bouquet of blood-red roses on your desk, tied with a dainty pink ribbon. The man himself, standing stoic and proud with a sun-swallowing grin etched along his handsome features as he takes the plunge and asks you to finally be his.

You’re frowning because you don’t know what to say.

He’s smiling because he knows you can’t say no.

Because now he’s gonna’ take you, face-down, pussy-up on his desk and there’s not a fucking thing you can do about it.

Because he’s your boss, and if he says he wants to pump his babies into your tight little womb and blow your belly up with his chicks, you’re gonna fucking take it.

Hard.

[simpcityy]

Location Status: Unknown (Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Person!Reader) *Platonic*

Summary: You turned off your location to be able to enjoy a date, leaving Father Figure Miguel to figure out your whereabouts and to stop it from getting it further.

Disclaimer: I do not own Mavel or any of its characters. This is a 3-part series, so it feels incomplete at the end.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Father Figure Miguel, father and daughter fluff?, Miguel cursing in Spanish, you curse in English, Very Vague mentions of sex.

Pt.1 Pt.2

┍━━━━━━⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━┑

Miguel walked into the cafeteria of the Spider Society scanning around each table. “Lyla, what’s their location?” The AI appears on his shoulder groaning, “For the last time, their location is turned off." Lyla reminded him before disappearing. Miguel only grunts in frustration before he comes across a table where he knows answers will be given. Pav and Miles were eating the Spider-Man 2099 theme burger, Miles was busy stabbing the bun of Miguel's supposed face before seeing Miguel towering over them. “Hey there…Miguel” Miles puts the fork down greeting him nervously once he was caught doing that. “Have you two seen (Y/N)?” He glared down at them, ignoring the fact what Miles was doing. Pav only fidgets in his seat, trying to look away. While Miles tries to play it cool, “(Y/N)? Never heard that person in my life” As you can see, he failed to play it cool. “Ustedes dos me dan un dolor de cabeza. Mientras Hobie me da cinco*” Miguel only whispers to himself before staring right at Pav, knowing the boy couldn’t keep anything to himself. “Pav?” He asked before the boy finally broke, “Okay Okay! Hobie was the one who helped (Y/N) turn off their location. (Y/n) told us to keep quiet so they can go on a date with someone.” Pav finally took a deep breath after spilling everything in one go. “ Qué! A date with who!?” The older man looked down at Pav for more information. “I don’t know, they didn’t tell.” The boy only shrugged his shoulders. Miguel looks at them before heading out of the cafeteria with this new information. 

Lyla sighed watching the stoic man look at all the cameras in your version of New York. “Dónde están, nothing on all security cameras.” he glances over to Lyla, “Check to see if-” “Already did and the location is still off.” She sighs before appearing in front of him. “You know, they are old enough to do whatever they want. They are 19, almost 20.” She reminds him. Miguel only lets out a displeased look. Lyla finally puts the pieces together and lets out a laugh “Oh my! Is papa Miggy scared that your grown child is going to have more than a simple dinner date?” “What? Boys at that age are still stupid, Son estúpidos*” He grumbles before adding on, “And I know because I was that age once” He defends himself. “Aww Papa Miggy is worried, hey, you mentor them so I know they will pick the right guy or girl.” She shrugs before disappearing. Miguel only frowned more before he kept looking through the cameras to find your location. 

“You’re such an idiot!” You laugh, playfully punching your date’s arm. Everything was going according to plan, your location off, you scored a date with the popular boy in the college and Miguel hasn’t found you to interrupt this perfect night. Swinging your legs over the bride of the small lake, you glanced over to your date. “Staring much?” He chuckles, stretching his arms before wrapping one over your shoulder bringing you closer to him. You happily lean into him watching the view of the lake in front of you two. “This is perfect” You mumbled out slowly feeling your eyelids getting heavy. “It would be better if we head to your place.” Your eyes open before looking up at him. Thinking to yourself, are you ready for this? Thinking carefully about it, you stood up. “Let’s go then.” Grabbing his hand, you walked through the busy streets to your two-bedroom apartment. You weren’t scared but rather nervous, it wouldn’t be the first time for you. You were nervous he wouldn’t be satisfied with what you're presenting to him. “Welcome to my place, my neighbors work night shifts so there is nothing to worry about."

You unlock the door only to be met with the smell of something good being cooked. Your date who smelled the air as well looked at you, “you got roommates?” You walked in quickly “No I don’t” Heading over to your kitchen you spotted Miguel placing something into the oven. “What are you doing here?” You walked over to him. “Por fin*, Did you forget I was coming over…for the night” He adds on as he spotted your date. You internally wanted to yell but you looked over to your date, “this is my-” “Miguel O’Hara, their father and you muchacho, who are you?” Miguel made sure to make the scariest resting bitch face he could. Your date only starts to sweat, “Oh would you look at that, I have to go (Y/N)” He slowly inches himself closer to the door before opening it, “See you at class!” He left and you knew you weren’t going to see him again. You waited for the door to shut before glaring at your father figure/mentor. “What the fuck was that?” You frowned. “Oye! Cuida tu tono*” He points his finger at you, frowning. “Solo te estaba cuidando* I didn’t want you to suffer with the consequences later on” You only sigh before sitting up on the counter. “Still, I am 19 years old, I am a young adult…as much as you hate it…I have to make my own life.” Miguel sighs leaning against the counter, “I know you’re 19 but to me, you’re still that 14-year-old I took in and mentor to become a hero for your dimension. Sigues siendo ese pequeño niño(a) asustado a mi*” He admits before rolling his eyes as Lyla appears. “You should’ve seen him (Y/N)!” The AI appears in front of you before showing you a small video of Miguel threatening Pav and Miles for information. The video ends and you look up at Miguel, “Really, you had to threaten them?” “It was the only way after you turned off your location.” You kept quiet as he had a point, you basically went MIA. The ding of the oven broke the silence. “Tienes hambre*?” Miguel looks at you “Yeah…that salad was not enough” You hopped off the counter and walked over to get the plates. 

After a nice warm dinner, you sat on the roof of your building. Next to you, Miguel was sitting with you trying to fix your watch to turn back on your location. You don’t know what the hell Hobie did to turn it off, but you were having issues to turn it back on. “mierda*” He mutters as Lyla tried to guide him how to fix it but gave up as he wasn’t paying attention. You looked at him before grabbing your watch. “Maybe you should take it back to use the right equipment to fix it.” You smile putting it back on your arm trying to fix it yourself but gave up right away. “Pero*... How will you be able to get to the Spider society? How will you contact me or Jess if you need back up?” Before he can give you more questions you stop him “One, Lyla always tells you whenever an anomaly is not where it’s supposed to be and two, you have the cameras of the city so you can watch me if there is a fight, from there you can conclude if I need backup or not. After all, I was trained by the best.” You grinned before leaning your head on his shoulder yawning. Miguel sighs but lets a small smile on his face before picking you up. “Ay niña*” He carried you on his back making sure to support you before walking down the stairs to your apartment door. Laying you carefully on the bed. He took the watch off to take it back before covering you up. Opening a portal back to headquarters, he looks back at you before down at the watch in his hands. ‘You’ll be fine’ He thought as he walked through.

How he wished he took those words back, if he knew that bad luck was lurking around.

┕━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━┙

Authors Notes: Thank you Everyone who's been giving me so much support on my first series I posted on my blog! You are welcome to reblog and comment to be on the taglist of this 2-part series. I might make this a 3-part series but that TBD. I always loved reading Miguel x daughter figure reader but there is not enough. As always, forgive me for any grammar error. Stay hydrated and keep on simping. (Simp City Population: 16 *Thank you! 💕*)

Spanish Translation: 1. Ustedes dos me dan un dolor de cabeza. Mientras Hobie me da cinco: You two give me a headache while Hobie gives me 5. 2. Qué: What 3. Dónde están: Where are they? 4. Son estúpidos: They're stupid 5. Por Fin: Finally 6. Muchacho: Young Man 7. Oye! Cuida tu tono: Hey! Watch your tone 8. Solo te estaba cuidando: I'm only looking out for you 9. Sigues siendo ese pequeño niño(a) asustado a mi: You're still that small, scared child to me. 10. Tienes hambre: You hungry? 11. Mierda: Shit 12. Pero: But 13. Ay niña: This girl

[sofia-cloud]

Hey!! Do u mind writing a spider noir x fem reader (they live in the same universe) where the reader and Peter are already dating but he decides to confess that he’s spider man to her? Btw i absolutely love ur work! Stay safe and make sure to take breaks <3 (also sorry if this Req doesn’t make any sense I tried my best to explain it 😭😭)

UHM HELLO?!? THATS SUCH A GOOD IDEA WDYM??😻

— love you more ᥫ᭡.

- pairing: Spider-Noir x fem!reader

❀˖° contents: pure fluff, peter is so lovely, dating, hugging, praising, pet names.

❀˖° summary: reader and peter are dating since few months, then peter decides to tell reader his identity, there are alot of emotions going on through the story.

❀˖° notes: sorry if this too long but noir is something else ya know 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

You and Peter have been dating for 2 months now, you are very comfortable with him and he is always comfortable with you.

Since yall date you do nothing but think about him, you can't get him out of your head, the way he talks to you, how he smiles at you, how he holds your hand when you go on a date, he was simply perfect for your eyes, your love for him grew more and more and didn't slow down.

One day he invited you to the movies with him, you accepted of course, you wanted to spend as much time as possible with him.

When you got to the cinema he hadn't arrived yet, maybe he was late you thought, but 15 minutes passed and there was no sight of him yet.

When you're almost resigned, you hear someone in the distance calling your name, you turn around to see who he is and it was Peter yelling at you to wait for him from afar.

“ 'm sorry, i had an unforeseen event and..” Peter said trying to catch his breath.

“Its okay, dont worry 'bout me, worry about the movie” you said as the movie had already started 20 minutes ago.

“I see, so you wanna go home or do you want to see another movie?” He told you with a sorry look, he really didn't want to be late on a date with you, but unfortunately his other life as a spider noir didn't give him any choices.

“Well, I want to spend time with you so it's okay if we see another movie” you replied by putting your hand on his shoulder smiling at him.

He nodded and then you entered the cinema.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“That was a good movie,” you said giggling a little and holding his hand.

“Yeah, it was for sure,” he replied with a smile back.

He accompanied you home while the sun was setting, you had spent a good time with him, and he also did with you.

The more time passes, the closer you get and feel that you have more and more feelings.

The dates continued, but it must be said that he arrived 70% of the time late, you didn't understand why he always arrives 15 or 20 minutes after the time you gave yourself, if it didn't suit him then he could tell you but he didn't.

Peter doesn't want you to think that for him you go in the background or that you're not important enough to him, unfortunately he doesn't decide when the city needs him, there is one and only spider noir in the world, and it was him.

Precisely for this reason, he thought a lot about the decision to tell you his identity, you were the person he trusts the most, and he can't keep hiding it from you, he doesn't want you to come up with bad ideas, he felt comfortable with you, he doesn't want to ruin the relationship you have created in these months.

At this point he prefers to let you know now, he doesn't want it to be too late to tell you.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Can I come over, my love?” He told you on the phone.

“Yeah sure, there's something wrong?” You answered him, noticing that he was nervous by his voice.

“I needa tell you something really important” he only answered you this and attacked.

What does he mean by this? Did something happen between us? Lately I see him a bit in his thoughts, maybe he wants to tell me the reason why he's been behaving like this lately. These were your thoughts when he told you this, you were afraid to know but you were also impatient, you wanted to know so bad the reason, but at the same time you were nervous.

“Sorry dove, I really need to go” he told you as he put his jacket back on and got out of his chair.

“But u said we'll go to-“ you tried to answer, a little disappointed with his behavior, but you were stopped by him,

“I promise one day i'll explain you everything, just remember that I love you” he told you softly as he stroked your cheek with his hand, then gave you a kiss in the head and said you goodbye.

Damn it, you couldn't get mad at him, he was so sweet and adorable with you, whatever he's going through you would have listened and tried to understand him, he's not the type to leave this way for nonsense, if he has to leave it will be for a good reason.

And he knew you trusted him, that you would wait for him, that you would give him time to confess everything to you, by now he no longer needed to say to leave, you understood him immediately when he made that sincerely sorry look.

“Love, i-“ he tried to tell you while you were having dinner at your house, he took a look at the window, he always gave a look at the window before leaving, you didn't understand why but it didn't matter.

“You can go babe” you told him as you smiled softly at him and put your hand on his arm.

There was no reason to get angry, you trusted him a lot, you know he would never lie to you, you know he would never let you down, that's why you didn't ask where he was going, you had to wait for him, you always tried to put him at ease and he did the same, your esteem for each other was very high.

“Youre the best” smiled back at you as you saw him walk out the door.

The steps were fast, the breath accelerated, nervous look, sweaty hands and lost in the thoughts, am I really going to tell her that i am spider noir? How will she react? That I'm just a liar? A guy who deceives people for fun? These were Peter's thoughts on his way to your house, you were both agitated, you didn't know what the other would say and react, the fear was high but the patience is no less.

You heard three knocks on the door, got up quickly, opened the door and Peter had a nervous look in his face. He could say the same for you, he wanted to greet you but no sound came out of his throat, he kept telling himself to take courage.

“Hey, you good darling?” You said, noticing that he was nervous, so you tried to calm him down by putting one hand on his shoulder.

“Hi dove, yeah im good.. What 'bout you” he tried to create a normal conversation, hoping to improve the situation for whatever reaction you would have.

“Im great too, so are you gonna tell me?” You answered while you invited him to sit on the couch with you.

He accepted your request and sat down next to you, you looked at him, waiting for an answer, and the only one you wanted was a yes.

“Yeah, but promise me you won't be disappointed or angry with me love,” he told you, looking into your eyes in a deep, sweet voice towards you.

“Of course babe, ill never get mad at you, you know that” you said as you smiled softly to put him at ease, you weren't a touchy person, so you know you wouldn’t.

“Okay then.. you know when i kept going away without giving you a good reason, or when i arrived late at our dates? Well, theres a big reason, really big.” he communicated to you in a sincere and serious voice.

He was waiting for your reaction, with that he didn't want to worry, he meant that he would never send you into the background for something unimportant, you were too important to him, so he preferred to tell you now, hoping it wasn't too late.

“Love you know you can tell me everything and i will always understand you, whatever is the reason, even if is the craziest reason, ill always be on your side” you answered softly, damn if he loved you so much.

“Even the craziest reason? Even if im.. spider noir?” He didn't even know with what courage he said it, his heart accelerated the beat, waiting for some significant reaction from you.

“What?..” your reaction was shocked, but it wasn't clear whether it was positively or negatively shocked, so he kept saying,

“ i know you think im joking or lying but its the true, and i wanted to tell you now because i was scar-“ tried to say but was stopped by you,

“This is..” you kept looking at it with the same expression as before,

“Please trust m-“ was stopped a second time, when you suddenly hugged him, he opened his eyes wide at first, confused by your sudden gesture of affection, so it meant that you were neither angry nor disappointed , his heart began to calm down, and Peter found himself at ease so he returned the hug, still slightly confused.

“Amazing. This is amazing Peter” you said as you held him tighter against you.

“I love you more than anything, remember that.” he told you, as you continued to hug.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The next few months Peter and you were still in love if not more. Now that you know that he is spider noir, he often carries you in his arms, while admiring the city at night, Peter stopped over a skyscraper.

“The moon is beautiful, isnt it?” You said as the full moon lit up your face beautifully, you looked like an angel in Peter's eyes.

“But you're definitely prettier dove” he confessed to you as he sat on the edge of the skyscraper, you sat next to him, and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Love you, Peter.” you answered almost whispering,

“I love you more.”

reblog and comment if ya like💓

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

It is obvious to me that Zeb Wells is only writing ASM because no one else wanted to. I'm old enough to remember the early 00s when Wells first started writing Spider-Man. He was essentially a fill in guy even back then. He was never deemed good enough to get an ongoing to himself. His stories back then were mediocre at best, the one exception being the origin of Jameson, which was legitimate good but also notably not actually about Spider-Man himself.

Then he was one of many rotating writers during the Brand New Day era of 2008-2010. In theory this was a promotion of sorts as he was actually writing ASM. But the nature of the tri-monthly set up sort of meant that inevitably there were gaps to be filled, they just needed material. Roger Stern himself did a few issues here and there in that era, but not many. Yes, Wells was working alongside people who (at the time) were either big names (Mark Waid, Joe Kelly, Bob Gale) or (again, at the time) fan favourites like Dan Slott, so in theory he was being elevated. But to my recollection they tended to give the BIG stories in that era the other writers. Slott opened BND, did the first event story New Ways to Die and did ASM #600. Joe Kelly reinvented the Rhino, reintroduced Black Cat and (ugh) resurrected Kraven the Hunter. Fred Van Lente reintroduced Chameleon and Mary Jane. And Waid did...I forget but he did something significant.

In contrast the only BIG story I recall Zeb Wells taking point on was Shed, which was to the Lizard what One More Day was to Peter. The absolute character destruction wherein the Lizard (in his lizard form) is at least implied to have raped a human woman and is confirmed to have eaten his own human son. The story concludes with Spidey being shocked that the Lizard is capable of talking even though he's been able to do that since the very first Lizard story. It was such a catastrophe that Marvel had to steadily walk it back through at least 3 different stories, two of which were by Slott. When even Slott is like 'um...this went way too far', you really went too far.

By rights Wells should have been in Spider-Man writer's jail forever after that, but instead he got to be a lead writer on an era where ASM was again tri-monthly, except this time with only 2 other writers, none of whom nowhere near the fan favouritism nor had the Big Name clout of the original BND era. And to top it off, it wasn't even about Peter it was about Ben Reilly who was suddenly Spider-Man again, following a run by Nick Spencer which had blatently tried and wanted to undo One More Day but was forced to awkwardly change direction. It was obvious that this was thrown together last minute out of desperation, Ben Reilly was basically just Peter Parker's understudy.

Then after all this Wells, the old man (at least compared to the other writers from the Beyond era), the guy who's most famous contribution was something Marvel walked back, a guy's who's best contribution was an obscure story and from 15ish years ago gets the top job? Meanwhile the former writer goes off and starts a substack?

It reeks of desperation. It reeks of 'No one but this guy WANTED the job'. So, ironically, despite it being over 20 years, even when Wells gets the biggest job in Spider-Man you could have, one of the biggest jobs you could ever have in the industry, he is still just a fill-in writer. The fact that his run' is incompetence at best, cynical spite at worst, speaks to why he wa not deemed good enough for the top job until the point where no one else wanted to do it.

And why does no one want one of THE biggest jobs you could have in comics, arguably in American literature?

Because of One More Day.

Because Marvel's narrative that writing a married Spider-Man was just soooooooo hard and such a turn off to potential writers was probably lie back in 2007 and definitely an exaggeration.*

Because it has been close to 20 years since One More Day and these all time great Spider-Man stories have not materialised. And even the ones people (rightly, and imo generally wrongly) regard as really good (like Superior) either didn't require Spider-Man to be unmarried/single or they would've likely been better if he had been married.

Because making Spider-Man unmarried did not attract back lapsed readers who disagreed with him being married.

Because making Spider-Man unmarried did not attract new readers in significant numbers, indeed the scant new/younger readers they got were happy to read about him being married (as evidenced by Renew Your Vows and the current USM's success).

Because One More Day and their anti-marriage agenda is SO bad that the fandom has NOT let it go all these near 20 years.** And never will. We have, and we will continue, to bring it up, complain about it and that wound will only be reopened every single time anything like Dan Slott or Zeb Wells run crops up.**

So, Marvel are in a lose-lose situation.

The pro-marriage writers (of whom there will likely be more and more as the younger generation who grew up with it roll in) do not want to write ASM because they will not be allowed to undo it and their work to even alleviate it will either be derailed during their run, or else reset ASAP, as happened with Nick Spencer.

Meanwhile anti-marriage writers (of which there were not that many and their numbers ever dwindle) do not want to write ASM because they know their work will also likely be interferred with and more poignantly they will have to deal with us fans very loudly (and louder than ever thanks to modern technology) yelling at them for reinforcing the anti-marriage/anti-Mary Jane agenda.

Simply put, most writer's, especially if they are talented, can make an easier buck on anything other than Amazing Spider-Man, regardless of whether that is one of the Big Two or indie.

And so, what Marvel are left with is desperation cases like Wells and Slott or talented people who come in for short bursts like Joe Kelly.

That is, of course, unless they give their customers what we have wanted for over 16 and a half years!

*As evidenced by the fact that in 2007 we had THREE Spider-Man writers, Straczynski, David and Sacasa, who were all pro-marriage and wrote generally good stories, often leveraging Mary Jane and her marriage with Peter in the course of doing that. In fact one 2007 comic specifically about their marriage was nominated for an award.

**And, in fact, many writers for Marvel (like Nick Spencer) can be counted amongst those fans unhappy with it.

***Indeed, for those younger fans who maybe knew little of pre-OMD Spider-Man or only know about Spider-Man comics from Youtube and social media, Wells run has them believing and perpetuating that Spider-Man has now been ruined. It was ruined long before now of course, but Wells via Paul and the rest of his run has spawned a new generation that despises Marvel's treatment of Spider-Man. Paul has essentially become a meme!

[cablecar-s]

to love and self loathe

part 1 part 2 part 3

I'm Just A Guy, With A Boomerang!

Okay, so maybe she was a tiny bit rusty as being Spider-Woman. No big deal, just a few more days or nights being in the suit and she can-

Wait- No, this was supposed to be the only and last time she was even putting on the suit. It was just a precaution! You know, if the other vigilantes weren't able to make it because of the decoy or whatever Black Mask was planning.

. . .

God what was she doing...?

Swinging from building to building, she headed into the direction of Wayne Manor. Except, she soon found out just how far the manor was from the city. By the time she made it to the manor, just on the edge of the forest where she saw the clearing of the rather large and gothic mansion, she was quite literally out of breath.

"Damn rich people..." She wheezed, slightly panting as she tried to catch her breath. Once her breathing went back to normal, she climbed over the aging stone wall and jogged over to the massive building. 

Scaling up the wall, she peeked through the multiple windows, making mental notes to herself as she continued to go through each window.

"Now if I were a bunch of thugs, where would I-"

And as if on cue, a large explosion shook the mansion, smoke coming out from one of the sides of the mansion.

"There, I would be over there." She sighed out.

Quickly crawling her way over, she let herself inside the very large ballroom, trying her best to not gawk at how fancy it looked whilst crawling on the ceiling.

"Nobody move! Or the brat gets it!" 

Looking down, everyone was in a state of panic while a thug with a black mask held a young boy hostage, a gun to his head.

With the smoke slightly clearing up, she had taken note that there were about 8 men, and they were all armed, wonderful.

All of them were shoving through the crowd of rich folks, seeming to look for someone in particular. While they were busy doing that, she quietly dropped down, trying to use the smoke and people, hopefully they didn't scream out when they saw her.

"Sorry, pardon me." She quietly whispered, squeezing past the many expensive suits and dresses. "I like the tie." She complimented, though everyone just gawked at her as she put a finger up to where her lips were supposed to be as she made her way over to one of the thugs.

"Hey." She called out, poking the thug's shoulder.

"Wha-" Turning around, about to aim his gun at her, she quickly webbed his mouth shut with one hand while the other had shot out a web to take hold of his gun to take it out from his hand. Shooting out another web to wrap his upper body, she jabbed the butt of the assault rifle into his stomach, causing him to let out a muffle 'oomph!'.

Stumbling back from the impact, she gave him a simple push into the wall before using her webs to keep the man stuck to the wall.

Dusting off her hands, she soon took notice of the many rich folks who only looked at her in bafflement. A bit embarrassed at the attention, the Spider cleared her throat, pointing behind her shoulder.

"I should.. I should probably go." Raising her hand up, she had her web shooter pull herself back up onto the ceiling, crawling on her hands and feet to get to whichever criminal she saw next.

For the next 20 minutes, she was able to take down two more guys before the hostage situation had gotten worse.

Finishing up with keeping one of Black Mask's stuck to the ceiling, the sound of laughter from Mask's men had garnered her attention.

"Now we're getting somewhere." The man holding Damian grinned cynically. Just opposite of him was another one of the criminals, now having Bruce Wayne as a hostage, another gun pressed to his head.

"Alright Mr. Philanthropist, you're gonna listen closely and do as we say: Within 24 hours you're gonna give us 20 billion in exchange for the brat." Damian's hostage tightened his grip around his neck, pressing the gun even closer to the pre-teen's skull.

"I will kill you all." Damian hissed out, but he was only met with getting hit with the gun, making him grunt in pain.

"Shut the hell up." His captor growled out.

"You can have the 20 billion, just leave my son out of this." Bruce said, doing his best in trying to stay calm.

The man only cackled, the sound of his gun cocking, his finger now hovering over the trigger. "We're gonna need the 20 billion first Mr. Wayne."

"Ahem."

All heads quickly swiveled to the sound, only to see Spider-Woman standing there, almost a bit awkwardly.

"Didn't know we were supposed to bring guns to a party as fancy as this." She commented.

It went silent for a moment.

Okay.. Great start.

"Who the fuck are you?" The young Wayne's captor hissed out.

"Oh you know," She let out a small nervous huff. "Just a passerby, thought I would take a look around Gotham and all." She waved a hand nonchalantly. "And you know, it's really nice in Gotham, well, of course, minus all the crime and guys trying to mug an innocent bystander every ten minutes."

She continued to ramble, her arms moving about.

People only looked at her like she was crazy, and honestly? She couldn't blame them.

She herself had no idea what in the hell she was doing, she just hoped she could find herself an opening before the situation escalated any more than it already has.

At some point, the captors were getting irritated, now finding her ramblings tiring.

"Would someone get rid of this bitch already!?" One of them yelled out.

In that moment, her senses tingled, but everything had almost gone in slow motion as the sound of a gunshot rang out, making people scream while some sort of black baton was simultaneously thrown at one of the captors.

Bruce Wayne's captor let out a pained yell as he had been hit with the baton, to the Spider's left though, another yell of pain was heard, as it was one of thugs who was about to shoot the woman.

"What the-!?" Damian Wayne's captor's attention quickly turned to where the baton and gunshot had came from.

Taking this moment of distraction, the female vigilante quickly shot out a web and yanked the gun out from the captor's hand.

"Hey!" Turning his head to look at her, she shot another web, making it cover his entire face. Alarmed, his hands quickly let go of the boy and tried to pull the webbing off. Damian, in response, turned to his captor and gave him a swift kick, knocking him back onto his butt.

There was no time to relax though, for from the corner of the Spider's eye, she saw another one of Black Mask's minions point their gun straight at Damian.

"Hey kid watch out!" She yelled. Quickly running towards him, she closed the distance by grabbing him with her web before shooting another web and pulling themselves up to the ceiling.

An echo of screams rang in the ballroom, everyone now running and panicking, all of the rich folk quickly trying to leave the now dangerous room.

"You alright?" She looked at the boy who had a scowl, arms crossed.

"I'm fine." He retorted.

Rude.

"Okay Mr. Grumpy-Pants." She muttered.

Hearing more gunshots, she looked over and saw two of Gotham's vigilantes fighting off the rest of Mask's men.

"Hey so, I'm gonna leave you up here real quick-"

"You will not-" 

It was too late though, the young Wayne found himself webbed into a cocoon, now stuck to the ceiling of his home while the Spider made her way down to help the two men.

"Release me at once!" He yelled at her, fuming.

Both Red Hood and Nightwing were preoccupied and cornered by Black Mask's minions. Both fighting the men and dodging the bullets they shot at the vigilantes.

Too preoccupied, Nightwing had realized too late as one of the men were about a second away from getting shot. But an all too familiar sticky string had pulled the gun out from the minion's hands only to be promptly knocked out with a harsh kick from behind.

"You boys need help?" She questioned, tossing the gun to the side.

"We have it just fine."

"That'd be appreciated."

Red Hood and Nightwing glanced at each other, but Red Hood seemed to be the one to look away first. With a smile, Nightwing threw his escrima stick, shocking a criminal as they went down while he looked back at the Spider.

The two nodded nodded at each other at the result of Red Hood's lack of resistance and made quick work of joining the two men. 

"I don't think I've ever seen you around in Gotham before." Nightwing turned a bit, dodging a fist that flew his way.

"Ah well, I just thought I'd do a bit of sightseeing." Spider-Woman replied, webbing one of the men's foot to the ground, causing him to fall face first onto the ground.

"And Gotham was your first choice?" The first Robin looked over at her, both brows raised, while simultaneously kneeing a man in his face.

She let out a small laugh, weaving her way behind a guy before shoving him to fall to his knees.

"I let the wheel of fate choose for me." She shrugged.

 Nightwing quickly picked up his escrima and tossed it to her, her web shooting out to have it come to her faster.

Once in hand, she tossed the escrima in the air a bit before catching it once more and hitting the man, who was trying to get up, in the back of the head, causing him to fall once more, though this time staying down for good.

"You two, less talking and more beating Sionis' men up." Red Hood grunted in irritation, taking hold of the man throwing a punch at him and bent it the other way, causing the man to let out a blood curdling scream.

Both Spider-Woman and Nightwing backed up into each other, their backs pressed to each other.

"Is he always that snappy?" She questioned, causing him to laugh.

"He's nice, I promise."

She only let out an unconvinced hum in response. 

Clasping his fingers together, Spider-Woman stepped into his hands as he threw her into the air. Finding her target, she shot two strings of webs to the ground before pulling herself feet first, giving the last guy a good kick, and a long-term concussion, to the head.

A satisfied hum left her lips, hands on her hips.

Nightwing whistled a bit, walking over to her. "You're pretty good." He mused.

She couldn't help but feel giddy at the compliment, remembering the adrenaline rush that comes with being a vigilante. 

"Why thank you." She said in a bit of a posh accent, one arm slinging behind her back while the other wrapped around her stomach, and bowed.

Nightwing chuckled at her antics as she straightened herself up.

"I thought I'd be a bit rusty, but it seems I still got it." She hummed brushing her shoulder. Soon, she felt something sturdy and warm brush against the back of her head, slowly tilting her head backwards, the looked as Red Hood was tilting his head down to look at her.

"What are you doing here in Gotham?" His robotic voice questioned. "And don't give me that 'sightseeing' bullshit." 

Turning herself around to face the slightly scary man, she looked up at him clearing her throat and held a finger up.

"Uh well, for starters," She started. She only looked as he continued to stare at her, waiting for a response.

God was he scary when you weren't a citizen.

She seemed to be having a hard time trying to come up with something, a sense of deja vu coming upon her. 

"I have.. Family..?" Her response was more of a question than an answer, and that only made Red Hood even more unconvinced.

"Really." He crossed his arms.

"Ye.. s...?" She slowly drew out the word a bit more, slightly cringing at how unsure she sounded herself.

"If you are done chatting then it would be smart of you to let me down before I come down myself!" A voice, slightly far away, yelled out.

All three vigilantes looked up towards the voice and saw Damian still stuck to the ceiling.

Nightwing snorted a bit at this, the Spider quickly clearing her throat.

"I uh, better go get him." Letting out a nervous chuckle, she glanced at the two vigilantes before webbing her way up to the ceiling, ripping away at the webs to get the boy out from his cocooned confines.

"I don't trust her." Jason squinted his eyes at her, watching her every move.

Dick rolled his eyes at this. "You don't trust anyone Jay- Ow!" 

His head went forwards, a light slapping noise echoing in the walls.

"Vigilante names, we don't know if she can hear us or not." Jason stated.

Dick only let out an annoyed huff, rubbing the back of his head, there was a bit of a smile on Jason's lips, his mood slightly lifting after giving his older brother a good smack.

The Spider soon let their youngest brother down back to the ground. They only watched in amusement as the two seemed to have an exchange of words before Bruce made his way over.

"You're alright?" He questioned his son, crouching down a bit to take a look at him.

"Fine." Damian huffed, looking away, arms crossed. "I told you this party was useless." He slightly glared at his father who only chuckled, giving a small ruffle to his hair.

"I'll make it up to you, promise." He smiled. Standing up, the billionaire looked at the female vigilante. "Thank you, for saving my son."

"Oh, I mean.." The Spider became a bit bashful, a sheepish laugh leaving her mouth. Rubbing the back of her head, she slightly looked away, waving her hand a bit. "It wasn't just me who helped too." 

She looked over at the other two vigilantes, the two seeming to be talking—more like bickering, no one needs to know that but them though—until Nightwing lightly elbowed Red Hood who begrudgingly followed behind the masked vigilante who made his way to them.

"Mr. Wayne." Nightwing said with a smile.

"Ah, Nightwing." The billionaire smiled, looking over at the man that stood behind the more chipper vigilante. "Red Hood."

Red Hood only gave the man a curt nod, muttering the billionaire's name as a greeting. He shifted his weight, having crossed his arms before promptly looking away afterwards.

It became a bit awkward after that, Spider-Woman only watching with slight discomfort at the odd greeting she had just witnessed.

Clearing her throat, all three men looked over at her. "Well I uh, I better get going." She pointed behind her.

"To New York?" Bruce questioned, raising a brow.

"What?" She questioned back, looking at the man before blinking a bit too much. "You.." She pointed at herself. "You know of me?" She asked, dumbfounded.

He chuckled at this. "Of course, you were all over the internet with your disappearance." He mused.

"Oh.." She mumbled, remembering seeing the many articles as well. Everyone questioning as to where she had gone, and if she was coming back.

The flash of a smile and a melodic voice calling out her name came to her, making her grimace.

"Everything alright?"

She snapped her head up to look at the billionaire who had a bit of concern on his face, the two vigilantes looking at her with questioning look.

"Uh, yeah, sorry." She hummed nervously. "All that fighting really tired me out." She winded up her arm, rocking back and forth on her feet a bit. "Anyways uh, thank you, for having me. Sorry about the mess." 

Her hands moved around all over the place, taking small steps back towards the large hole in the wall. "I'll be, I'll be going now, haha.." 

Turning around, a web shot out from her wrist and she had left with the wind. 

"Some party that was." Dick mused. 

"Father did you see how she stuck me to the ceiling like some insect?" Damian quipped.

"Maybe because you are one." Jason mused. 

Immediately, Damian's head turned to look at his brother to give him a glare. Bruce only sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Enough." Looking over at his two oldest, he gave them a questionable look. "Does anyone want to tell me what Spider-Woman is doing in Gotham?" He questions.

Dick shrugged at this. "Beats me."

Jason stayed quiet, a bit of a grimace falling on his face.

"Jason." 

The second Robin only rolled his eyes, looking at his adoptive father. 

"She seemed to have come to Gotham a week ago. Only trail she left was her webs." He informed, arms still crossed.

"And I wasn't informed about this because..?"

Jason shrugged. "Didn't seem important."

The father and son duo stared at each other for a good while, tension slightly building up.

Fuck, this wasn't how Jason wanted this to go.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce beat him to it.

"Well as long as she doesn't pose a threat." He sighed out. "You two should probably get changed, I'm sure Gordan and the others will be here soon."

And right as Bruce said that, the distant sound of sirens could be heard, the colors red and blue flashing in a distance through the darkness and trees.

With a nod, both Jason and Dick went to leave—Damian following along to head to his room—Dick going on ahead, all the while Jason having stopped in his tracks after hearing his name be called out.

Turning his head, he looked over his shoulder, seeing Bruce stare at him for a moment, his lips pressed into a line.

"Will you..." He hesitated for a moment. "Will you be staying for the night?" 

Jason stopped breathing for a moment. 

Did he want him to stay? Or was he just asking out of formalities? Of course Bruce wanted him to stay, he was his son for crying out loud.

Jason's mouth suddenly felt dry, having to lick his slightly chapped lips. His eyes darted around the room, suddenly feeling like that walls of the ballroom were closing in on him even though there was a giant hole in one of the walls.

"No, I'll be going back to my place." He flexing his hand a bit to try and calm his nerves, feeling his clothes suddenly feeling a bit too small on him all of sudden.

"I see. Take care then. I'll see you tomorrow." Bruce said softly.

"Yeah." Was all Jason was able to muster before walking off, leaving the man by himself in the large ballroom.

His footsteps quickened once he left the room, a somewhat nauseous feeling overcoming him. Quickly moving the arms of the grandfather clock once more, he wasted no time going down the stairs.

Fast walking to his motorcycle, he kicked the stand up and stuck the key into the ignition.

"Leaving so soon?" 

Jason paused, hand just barely about to turn the key to start his bike. It was quiet between him and Dick, the two not saying a word.

"Bye." Jason said, his bike roaring to life at the same time, almost drowning out his goodbye as he sped off.

Dick only sighed, watching his younger brother leave the Batcave, the smell of exhaust and gasoline filling the air.

At least he's trying.

part 1 part 2 part 3

[vertigoartgore]

Publicity still for the movie Spider-Man 2.

[dearharriet]

About Time | Chapter 2

james potter x reader time travel au | 2.5K words | contents

page 2 | back next

04:00 — 4 FEBRUARY

Rounding the corner down the back stairs, James came to the kitchen. It was all a deep, thick violet, blending with the world outside. That was a color that the sun wouldn’t touch for another four hours, if that.

He crept into the room, bare toes on cold terracotta tile, and got the electric kettle going. A tiny red dot rose against the dark expanse of cook-ware as the old thing jumped to life. James leaned back, slumping against the counter and retrieving his phone.

The kitchen gained new illumination as he pried it apart, jostling the center button to wake it. He’d done this song and dance every hour of every day since new years—even the ones he did twice—so it was second nature to press the handful of buttons that led to your contact.

The text exchange stared up at him the same way it always did, and he felt his frustration with himself bubble like the kicking kettle.

1 January

Me 14:14

| hello, this is james! (from new years) :)

Y/N! 15:17

| hi! :)

Me 15:20

| hiya. i was wondering if you wanted to get coffee sometime? this weekend, maybe?

Y/N! 15:35

| oh, that sounds so lovely, believe me!! but I actually live in london :/ i was only visiting for the holiday.

Of course she lives in London, he thought, she works with Marlene.

James never responded.

The thing about James was, he could go back and retry anything he failed at—which left a lot of room to do just that, and he was accidentally making the most of it.

The other thing about James was, he rarely knew when to quit. A month of no contact couldn’t be good, but a part of him wanted to see if he could make it work the first time. Every retry felt like a crawl through hell, having to do everything all over again, having to remember the way things were—the way things could’ve been forever.

No, he wanted to believe he could make something good without turning back. He’d done alright so far. It was just proving to be very hard because of you.

When the kettle was something around halfway done, James swung the phone closed, plunged back into darkness. He went to the press and took down a big mug with an odd decal over the front of it, and then looked to fish a tea bag out of the next cabinet. His hand felt around blindly, and he stubbornly persisted instead of seeking help from the house lights.

“What the bloody hell is goin’ on in here?”

In quick succession, James swung around and the overhead lights flashed on, and then his head whacked the cabinet door.

“Oh—fuck,” he swore, hand shooting up to cradle the throbbing area. The kettle was nearing the end of its duty, roaring as loud as the blood in James’ ears. Somehow too, the lights carried a sound of their own, one that you’d only ever hear when everything else is blissfully silent.

Something began thumping, and James peeked out of a watery eye to watch a middle aged man hobble over to the fridge. He was wearing a matching pajama set, blue and white striped and too soft looking for his very immediate brashness.

“Who the hell are you?”

The man ignored James’ very feeble inquiry and opened the freezer, coming up with a cold compress. When he turned James’ way, the boy had to school his initial reaction.

Layered over the strange man’s face were deep-cut scars, spider-webbing across his features indiscriminately. His right eye was a shocking blue, and the corresponding eyelid was healed wide open, giving it quite a mad look. James wondered how he slept.

With the same thump thump thump-ing from before, the man approached James, and James looked down to discover a rickety prosthetic leg on one side of his gait. Then, his eyes were back on the scars, his jaw held firmly between thick calloused fingers.

“That’s the last time you’ll ogle at my leg, boy,” the man said firmly, a measured type of coarseness entering his voice. “You’ve seen it now, no need to worry about it any longer. Understand?”

James blinked, still groggy and disoriented, sleep waiting at the edges of his eyes to be wiped away.

“Can I know who you are? Or, why you’re in my house, perhaps?”

A grating laugh escaped the man’s twisted lips, chased by a wide, toothy smile that didn’t match it. Then he forced the compress in his free hand over James’ tender forehead, and a maniacal gleam in his big eye finally caught the light.

“Oh, ow!”

“The name is Moody,” James’ torturer finally revealed, disregarding the pained whines the boy was making. “Alastor Moody. That’s M-O-O—”

“Oh my god, please shut up,” James groaned rudely, feeling a headache come on. Alastor seemed to take kindly by it anyways, or as kindly as he seemed capable of. He snatched one of James’ hands to replace his over the compress and stomped away. James wondered how he’d missed the sound before, when Moody was elsewhere in the house.

Stealing the big mug off the counter and a second one out of the press, Moody set about concocting some tea for the both of them.

“Why are you here,” James pushed again, falling from the wrap-around counter to the butcher’s block island and folding over it.

Moody, pouring a steaming cupful of tea, glanced over his shoulder with a grunt.

“Thought I’m s’posed to shut up,” he replied, a small jest barely recognizable in the grit of it. James almost laughed, thinking it was something one of his friends might say.

“Touché,” he allowed, too tired to justify his earlier words.

Moody slid the piping mug under his nose, holding onto the handle to say, “I’m yer father’s student. Or, I used to be, at least.”

James took the tea gratefully, dropping a big sugar cube into it as his body fell into a tall bar stool. He glanced at the scarred man, who was settling in beside him and sighing at the pressure coming off his legs.

“You’re a businessman?”

The sharp gritty chortle returned, far too loud for the early hour.

“Fuck no, I’m not,” Alastor laughed, “I’m a sad playwrite in London. I took his class on a requirement.”

At that, James perked up.

“In London, really?”

Moody slurped his tea noisily, grunted, and then grabbed two sugars and stirred them into his cup with one meaty finger. After confirming the taste again, he replied, “Yes, really. And don’t believe what those townie twits say about it. London is a miserable barrel of oil I’d like to set on fire.”

James would’ve liked to agree with that, actually, except that he was the victim of a one track mind, and his mind had eyes on you.

Coincidentally, you were in London.

“So why not move away?” James hunkered further over the counter, shrugging in question. “What’s there for you?”

Alastor sighed long-sufferingly, the way someone sighs when they’ve fallen into a pit that they dug.

“A goddamn pipe dream, that’s what.”

“Seems the right place for that,” James said agreeably, pushing up his glasses to appear smarter, somehow.

Moody shifted to look at him.

“What about you, eh?” Alastor sat forward, peering at James oblong with his gaping eye. “I suppose you’ll sit around this cushy place until your old man keels over, won’t ya? Marry some other high-society lass, play out the whole family runaround…maybe pop down to the city for a few years, but not for any big plan, really. Certainly not because you need to.”

He shook his head then, grumbling and taking to his tea. James jutted his head back, slightly affronted, but mostly confused by the jarring flip in Alastor’s mood.

“I’m sure I could, if I had nothing else in mind,” James agreed, his mind focused hard on the one future he was sure of. “Thing is though, I’ve got a pipe dream of my own, sir. A girl I met.”

Exhaling through flared hairy nostrils, Moody glanced at James again, dubious.

“A girl, you say?” James nods. “Yes, well, I suppose that’s what takes all the good ones. Some girl they met once.”

“Thrice,” James corrected. Alastor shuffled his thinning hair about on his head, grunting in question. “I met her three times.”

Moody just tipped back the rest of his tea and wiped the straggling drops from his chin.

Twisting his lips, James persisted.

“This girl y’see, she lives in the city. And I’ve asked to take her out, quite obtusely, without knowing, and now I think I’ll just have to move to her because—”

A big fat hand came down on the counter, rattling James out of his rant.

“Get t’yer point boy.”

Swallowing, James finally asked, “Can I live with you?”

Alastor gave him a long look and then stood, dumping his mug into the big basin by the window. On his slow march out, he turned, casting a sneer over his shoulder that prefaced his following answer.

“Unless that girl is willing to give you a million chances, you’ve already lost her. That’s just the way women are.”

+

04:00 — 17 MARCH

It took four trills for you to realize the song in your dream was a ringtone, and that it was a real pressing matter in the waking world.

One hazy glance at the clock on your night stand told you it was far too early for a phone call, and a quick check on your throat came up dry and unpleasant, not ideal for talking.

You sat up, blinking blearily at the name scrolling across the notification window on your phone, and convinced yourself you were still fast asleep.

‘James :)’ shimmered loud and proud in the pixelated slot of space, perplexing your delirious brain beyond measure. You played with the possibility of going back to sleep, but your curiosity got the better of you.

Opening your phone, you pressed the green answer button and held it to your ear.

“Hello,” you croaked out, more of a question than a greeting.

The other side of the line seemed to lag for a second, like maybe there was no one there, and then James spoke.

“Hel—hi.”

Even though he was only on the phone, hearing his voice made you sit up a little straighter, tamping your bedhead down with a flat palm.

“James?”

He sucked in a breath, and the way it cracked through the line made it sound like a cigarette pull.

“Yeah, um. Yeah. I’m sorry, I really didn’t expect you to answer. You sound so tired, I feel awful.”

“No, don’t be, it’s—” You caught yourself before you could placate him, because no amount of insisting it wasn’t early would change the hands on the clock, “—it’s fine, honestly. My boss is Irish, so I’ve got the day off.”

There was a pause and some shuffling, and then James said, “oh hell, it’s the seventeenth, yeah. I forgot.”

“What?” you exclaimed. “How could you? Everything’s been green for weeks now.”

James laughed, the sound muffled like it was coming from another room.

“I know, I’m sure, I’ve just been too busy to notice. I’m uh, I’m actually moving tomorrow. Or today, I guess.”

“Oh yeah?” You bit your lip, smiling a touch and daring to ponder, “Where?”

Another long pause.

“The city,” James replied, and you thought you could hear him smiling, too. “London.”

Picking at your comforter, you felt your lips ebb and flow, uncertain whether to be happy or sad. You really liked James, perhaps even as more than a friend that you’d kissed once on New Years. He was sweet, and attentive, and he seemed to really like you; Texted you right away, unlike most guys you’d been with.

And here he was calling you, striking up a conversation in the early hours of the morning.

“That’s great,” you said, dredging up all of the joy in your chest to saturate your words with. “Where in?”

He seemed hesitant, thinking about it for a second. “Islington, I think? I’ve only ever been up two or three times, so I’m not really sure.”

You nodded, charmed to silence just by the way he spoke, by the number of things you’d rather have asked him—about his life, about that handful of trips to the big city. You were so involved in the thought that you forgot he couldn’t see you.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes! Yes, sorry, I was nodding.” You laughed a little to lighten the tension. “Um, Islington is great.”

“Really?” James asked. “You’ve been?”

“Well, no.” You laughed some more, and James joined you. “But I live in Shoreditch, actually, so we’ll be really close.”

You hoped that didn’t come off too flirty, and then you hoped that it did, which made you feel terribly guilty. If being on the phone with James was dangerous, you certainly couldn’t be around him in person again.

Eyes closing, you cleared your throat.

“Um, James?”

The boy on the other line hummed in response, and then said, “What?”

“Is there a reason you called?”

It felt rude to ask, but you thought the early hour might cover for you. If you wanted to crawl back under your covers and sleep Saint Patty’s Day away, could he really blame you?

“Oh!” said James, and again your heart thumped hard and cruel in your throat, damming any words inside. “Yes, I’m sorry. I meant to ask you if you were free at all next week? For that coffee I mentioned after New Years.”

Fuzz overtakes the line for the next few seconds as your head falls into your lap. In part, you blame yourself, for being so naive as to think he’d call for anything else. The other part falls on you for different reasons, namely, being on the phone at all with someone you had undeniable feelings for.

For not turning him away in the first place, even though you knew his feelings were just as secure.

“Um,” you started, fighting the frog in your throat, “I’m really sorry James, but I’m actually seeing someone right now. I don’t think…”

You stopped there, because anything that came after would veer immediately into a confession that would hurt you both, and then some.

James was eerily quiet, so much so that you checked your phone to ensure he hadn’t hung up. Then, finally, he breathed out an, “Oh.”

It felt more like a punch to the gut.

For some reason, your face burned with acute embarrassment. Something about admitting to James that you were with someone else felt shameful, like some odd betrayal. Thankfully, he didn’t encourage the feeling.

“Well I hope he’s an alright guy,” James said fairly, and you told him he was. After yet another bout of silence, James just said, “good.”

And then the line clicked.

thank you for reading! xx | masterlist

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[skinnywalker]

Professional protector (Aaron Hotchner x nanny! male reader)

It's become a slight problem. Most nights it Hotch was late. Some he wasn't home at all and babysitters were only so reliable.

"You're really using Garica to get a other new babysitter?"

"I'm not trust random teens with my boy."

Emily rolls her eyes and pulls away the file of potential names.

"Can't you just hire a full time?"

Hotch groans.

"Same problem."

"Well it's either a once time issue or a till-jack-is-grown issue so make up you mind."

She's right of course, he needs to just bite the bullet.

After nearly an hour of barely scrapable options Hotch's attention was caught by a face.

Young, clean cut, handsome and with a bakround in child care. He gives Hocth a strange stomach twist, the kind he felt in high-school when he meet Harley. That same at once connection.

"Is he free?"

"Looks like it. Says on his employee web page he is open for full weekdays."

"Send that to me would you?"

Garcia can't help the small grin that crosses her lips.

"At once my lord."

From his nightstand the buzz of that familiar notification sounds him awake.

Clients.

He checks the profile his boss Diane always sends but this one is different than normal. He is used to business men who don't have time for their children but the man is an FBI agent and high in ranks too.

Doesn't look half bad either.

"How much is the pay?

"60 an hour."

He stops dead in his track.

"60? For one child and house sitting?"

"Ahuh. He asked me if that was too low."

"Too low?!"

She smiled at him with a gleam I her eyes.

"He really wanted you specifically."

Hotch keep glancing at his watch. He wasn't late but Hotch was nervous he might be.

"Excuse are you Mr. Hotchner?"

He's pretty in person Hotch thinks. More real. More warm. He's bright-looking but not cocky. Fair featured but no vain. He could reach out his hand and Hotch would near before him to kiss it without even thinking.

"Yes, you must be the nanny."

"Ahuh. Would you like to go over the details of what you need me to do while your away?"

Hotch smiles. He has no clue why but it feels natural.

"Of course."

Hotch leads him through the house explain everything he needs from the house care side of things.

"-and if you can't try to fold the blankets to fit in properly I'd be really thankful."

"Of course. What about your son?"

"Jack spends most of the day at school. He still in k-8 and does sometimes need homework help. He can make his own food but often prefers it made. He has 2-3 hours of screen time weekdays and 4 on weekends. He'll want to call me when I'm out of town which you can also do if you need anything."

He nods. Simple kid.

"He always wants to come along on grocery trips and basically anytime you leave the house."

Hotch hands him the house keys.

"And most importantly he'll ask for want he wants and his bedtime is 8:30."

"Got it. I call you at night if I have questions."

"Daddy?"

The two turn to see a sleepy toddler standing in door way. His spider-man pj's frumbled from napping.

"Hey Jack buddy, this is your new babysitter. He'll be here all day till I come back in the evenings so you don't have to be alone at home."

Jack looks up. Hotch feels the two smiling at eachother. His heart is aching know Jack is already bonding with the nanny. This have been a good idea.

"I have to go home today Jack but I'll see you again tomorrow ok?"

"Ok! Can we play with my Lego pirates."

"We can play whatever you want to Jack."

Hotch loves that smile on Jack. The innocent love. His boy is safe.

"Hotch? We have an emergency."

"What is it J.J.?"

"Ten victims all male in their 20s and the unsub is moving."

"I'll be there in ten mintues."

Hotch's body knows the routine of his morning work runs so well it work on autopilot.

Lastly he kisses Jack's sleeping head and text his new nanny 8 words.

"Flying for work for at least a week."

He'll get what I mean Hotch thinks before he stops himself. Why is he so sure? He doesn't even know the guy and he is trusting him like an old friend already. That's not good but Hotch can't seem to stop himself. He doesn't trust easily but something about him is so safe. So at home at ease. Hotch hates how his walls are just gone the moment he met a pretty man who takes care of his son. Hotch hopes he'll stay.

"He's targeting men who seem successful in love. Men with kids and partners and well paying jobs. Young man living how he wants to live. And he does it through robbery and hold ups. He is choosing targets on the fly."

"Where do we thinking he is making his way to?"

"Maybe his home or his get away car. I don't think he can keep this up for too long and I know he thinks that too."

At the hotel Hotch picks up his nightly call.

"How's your nanny been buddy?"

"I love daddy! He is super smart and he knew all about the history for my test on Tuesday and he makes such good pasta and he read me all the books I have trouble with!"

Hotch feel his stomach twist again. Just like a dad.

"That's great buddy. I'm glad you like him so much."

"He is gonna be my new best friend."

"I'm sure he will sweets now you need to good to bed."

"Ok, Goodnight daddy."

"Sleepwell Buddy. I love you."

"Love you too!"

He's safe. He's for the first time Hotch feels confident in thinking that Jack is really safe and happy. He sleeps better that night then he has in a while.

"Unsub is now in Virginia and he's getting risky. Going straight for our home now. He might even be there at this moment."

"So we came out here just to go home?"

"No, we came out here to know for certain he is home. Let's go."

Jack had asked to come along to the Cafe. He had followed his nanny to the counter and was rewarded with a small pink lemonade.

"Have you ever tried limeade or just lemon?"

He shakes his head no.

"Never liked lime. Too sour."

He chuckles.

"I like a lot of sour things especially ones that have some sweet in them."

"Everyone get on the floor! This is a hold up and if everyone behaves no one will get hurt."

Jack looks up confused and then frighten.

"Nanny?"

"Comere Jack. Everything will be alright."

"We've tracked him to a Cafe he's holding up. Swat is on their way but we don't time on our side."

"How fast can we get there?"

"20."

"20 is not fast enough."

"You, with the blonde kid. Move up here."

His arms wrap around Jack and gently lead them both to the front.

"Give him to me."

"No."

His breathing hitches.

"I'm not letting you near him. You'll have to take me first."

The click of the handriffle echoed in his ears before he felt the the world go black.

When the room came back into focus he realized he was in the ER. His chest was burning. He could feel the dizziness bringing him in and out of blurry awareness.

"Hey, just rest, you're really injured."

"Jack.. what about Jack?"

"He's safe with his father."

A knock at the door interrupts them.

"Hello Doctor is it OK for me to see him?"

"Mr. Hotch? Is that you?"

Hotch leans over the hospital bed brush some hair.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've been worse."

"Worse than shot?"

He giggled even though it hurt.

"Yeah. I'm better knowing Jack is safe."

"He was really scared for you, so was I. You don't know how much it means to me that you put yourself in such danger for my boy."

"I'd do it again."

Hotch felt strange. On one hand he was deeply relieved that he was safe but such a close call had his nerves in a twist. It was like a weight had been added to his psyche. Hotch couldn't let anything happen to him. He felt protective.

"How is he?"

"Exhausted but ok."

"Hotch I know he is just your nanny but you seem pretty worried."

"I can't help but be. He nearly died keeping Jack safe. I don't know what could've happened if I hired someone less bare. This whole time I've felt so.... connected with him. Like he is someone who I can trust."

"Does Agent Aaron Hotchner have a slight crush."

Oh no.

[sunofpandora]

So I watched avatar 2 with my native mother.

1. I don't think we've ever cried harder together in our life.

2. First things first, the minute the kids came on screen she said “I'm adopting them all”

3. Said that Neteyam and lo’ak remind her of my brothers. (especially during the fight scene where they defend Kiri)

4. Was pissed bc trudy is still dead.

5. You know that scene in the beginning where Neytiri shoots the RDA ship pilots in the raid?

My mother turned to me and said “you took 6 years of archery in school. Why can't you do that?”

6. Called Rotxo and Ao’nung “Thing 1, and Thing 2.”

7. Was gushing over tsireya and told me she missed when I wore my hair like that (I wear braids most of the time, but when I was 12 I wore my hair like Tsireya’s with cornrows in the front and curls in the back)

8. Didn't recognize Jake at first. She thought the dreads made him look better though.

9. Said that “neteyam reminds me of that one kid on a soccer field who sits in the grass and picks flowers”

10. When Quaritch came back, she said “oh my god its coloniel scar face back to fuck things up”

11. 98% sure Spider has ADHD. (she works with kids who have ADHD and dyslexia)

12. Anytime ronal came on screen at the battle scene “when I was pregnant I wasn'triding winged aligators”

13. Couldn't take the Australian guy seriously (it was probably the accent. No offense to y'all with accents. Me and my mom have accents ourselves)

14. My personal favorite, when Kiri was sad she said “honey your not depressed. You just need to get your hair done”

15. We went through a whole box of tissues when Neteyam was shot.

16. Said, “Jake looks like he drives a ford F150 and has bad road rage”

17. Went on Amazon and ordered the avatar visual dictionary for herself afterwards.

18. Was pissed as spider for saving quaritch. And I quote,

“regardless of whether he kept spider alive or not, he took children away from their families, and placed them in the center of gunfire, in a war that was never theirs to fight. That is unforgivable. I would have let the bastard drown.”

19. Ao’nung was “man bun having, pain in the ass”

20. Her top two favorite characters were Kiri and Tonowari.

21. Kept flinching when Neytiri got on the ship to kill the recoms. Said “that's some shit out of a horror movie. Damn”

22. When she saw spider she said “I bet he smells like actual shit”

23. Z dog pissed her off more than any other character 😭

[heartthrobin]

blue light (2)

miguel o’ hara x villain!reader

wc: 4.9k

warnings: fem!reader, reader can manipulate electricity, can teleport via lightning, age-gap (reader is early 20's), miguel is (slightly less) emotionally constipated, angst, swearing, jealous miguel, stalkerish behaviour, reader is a bit of a meanie (she's a villain after all), drinking, classic college kid shenanigans, implied one night stand, reader is highkey stubborn (she’s been hurt let’s not judge), happy ending this time i promise

an: next part to yellow light! i hate leaving stories with an unhappy ending so i had to work this out :) also the taglist was formed from this post before anyone asks again. remember to repost to support your fav writers !!

summary: someone's following you. you can feel it. like tiny spiders crawling over your shoulder when you sit too still.

part one

jumping between dimensions is exhausting work.

fuck what any spider-person had to say, they have fancy little watches that let them drift between earths as they pleased. they should try falling through a super collider every once in a while, not to even mention the glitching. like every molecule in your body is being ripped apart and reattached with wet wood glue.

and all that pain for a man. the notion makes you sick.

fuck Miguel too. fuck him especially.

you'd blasted him through the concrete face of a building in spite. the thought made you chuckle. he deserved it, that bastard.

when you returned from earth-8901, you slept over most of the next few days.

only closer to the end of the week had you dragged yourself from the depths of your bed to class. assignments glared at you from under the hood of your shut laptop and the professor's voice drifted over your head where it was hunched down over the scribbled outline of a scheme to cut power across the city.

you sketch a tiny little you in the corner, if you were a better illustrator someone may have been able to make out the tiny figure laughing maniacally at the panic she's induced.

scheming is fun. it lets you forget for the red and blue shadow that haunts your mind, if only for a few minutes at a time.

there's a coffee shop on the route back to your apartment and inter-dimensional travel has you jet-lagged enough to push it's doors open. a chime fills the space.

you stop most days just for a coffee, if you've made a recent hit at a bank on the other side of town you'll spoil yourself to a sandwich or a smoothie. but as it turns out, the money on earth-8901 is all purple bills. useless memorabilia hogging space on your study desk.

behind the counter is a fresh face. a handsome face.

he smiles at you and it's dazzling enough to prompt you into returning it. there's a name-tag against his black work shirt, Tobey, and he has dreads pulled up into a bunch at the top of his head.

you lean over the counter more than you would normally and his eyes follow your figure where it's divided by the countertop.

"hm. first week?" you prompt.

"indeed."

"how's it going?"

his eyes wash down your body again before returning to your gaze. "well. very well."

when you leave the shop there's a number written on the side of your cup with smudged black marker and a "give me a call -Tobey :)"

the ink stains the pads of your fingers. you consider the number the whole walk home.

by the time you reach your door, you've decided that you'll be calling him. that it's a good idea to start engaging with men in your dimension, as opposed to six foot nine assholes with sturdy shoulders ... and swirling brown eyes ... and a soft temperament despite how desperately he tries to hide it--

you slam your door, leaving that thread of thought on your welcome mat.

-

New York has already dimmed to a fuzzy black, perforated by city lights of every colour when you perch yourself on the edge of your bed. the city hums and the tune drifts in through your open window.

your cup from earlier is empty where you hold it up and dial the number written against it.

it rings twice before a static voice carries over the line. "hello?"

"Tobey?"

"speaking."

you tuck your knee up against the bed. in the low light, your glow emanates into the space. "i just called to say that i think you accidentally wrote your number on the side of my cup."

he chuckles. it's hard to make out, but then again most calls are tough when you're holding the phone with the same touch that could cut power to the pentagon.

"not a mistake, sweet-cheeks."

your nose crinkles. you hope the nickname isn't gonna stick.

but you press on, "that so? well, pray tell. why am i phoning you?"

"you're phoning so we can talk about when i'm taking you out."

"usually that discussion is preceded by actually asking me if i want to go out with you."

"i'm sure that--"

there's a crunch beyond the window.

the unmistakable crumble of concrete, accompanying dust cascading to settle on your sill in a tiny pile.

you squint, your apartment is on the eleventh floor. there's no way anyone could--

the phone falls, clattering to land across the dial.

spider-man.

your palms warm, you feel the surge of power rising where it's settled most days just beneath your skin. fingertips prickling with electricity, desperate to come reaching out - the bedside lamp dims as you brighten. your light casts shadows across the room.

"uhm, hello?" the abandoned phone still hums.

you creep towards the ledge before leaping at it, knees connecting with the sill. your eyes chase around the view beyond the window.

the night is still. there's no sign of movement beyond the people down in the street.

just above your window, the source of the noise, there's a gash in the brick. four gashes, to be exact. like an animal had ripped into the stone, like ... like claws.

your heart sinks into your stomach. the night is still unmoving.

-

it's thursday afternoon and the sidewalk is busy. you think that if one more person knocks into your side you're gonna zap them across the street.

Tobey hasn't showed up yet.

"how's thursday? some lunch, twelve o' clock?"

it's already half-past. you think hard about zapping him too, the face he'll make when he's swallowing scalding hot mouthfuls of electricity.

as if drawn from your thoughts, Tobey's figure is bumping people down the walkway. he's jogging, panting between an apology as he nears.

"i-i'm so sorry," he's hunched over, hands on knees. "my car was totalled ... i had to call the cops and sort out a bunch of stuff--"

"you got into an accident?" your voice is more curious than concerned.

he shakes his head. "no, an animal. last night an animal or something attacked my car, it's completely wrecked."

you squint at him. "an animal? we live in Manhattan."

Tobey straightened out. "yeah, go figure. giant claw marks and everything, the car was on it's head when i found--"

"claw marks?" your interest peaked.

the sound at your window.

"yeah. the thing must have been huge, it flipped my car." he nods. "and the security cameras were malfunctioning over the time that it happened so i can't know for sure ..."

there's only one creature you know personally, the kind that lurks on New York rooftops, that can inflict that kind of damage.

you don't allow yourself to think any more on it. Miguel hasn't come to your dimension before, he's not starting now.

and here to do what? wreck Tobey from the coffee shop's car?

the thought settles the bubbling in your core.

"well. are we still getting lunch?"

-

nearly a week passes and the thought of Miguel haunts you no more than it usually does - which is generally in the space between each thought - but you've squashed the notion that he may be around.

"it's not good to jump too often between dimensions."

he'd said that once.

you bury yourself under the safe cover of assignments and tests. early classes and afternoons at library desks.

of course, there's always time for hobbies. cultivating a healthy school-social balance is reliant on a well-rounded lifestyle.

there's two security passed out in the corner. you would duct-tape them but you struck them with enough power to light a carnival for a week. they'd be out for a while.

you'd think the university student finance office would be unoccupied at almost nine at night. but seven or eight people huddle in the corner of the room, stragglers that had remained to do work after hours.

they press against each other in fear. you delight in it.

"it's not your guys' fault," you speak to the room. the lights flicker overhead. "i get it, it's the big corporations! but, that still affects the lives of students who can barely afford to pay for registration anymore--"

the computer system fizzles and sparks beneath your hand. monitors go black across the office, the remains of student financial documents dissolved into digital dust.

you'd deny the notion that you were doing all this for the "greater good". your own student fees were climbing, and just while you were here, there were a couple friends who could do without it too.

blue and red lights bounce off the side of your profile. sirens echo down the street.

"right." you dust your hands and look around. you're chuffed when you curtsy at them, ends of your short dress pinched between your fingertips. "that should be me done then. you all have a good night."

the buildings doors slide open where you push them. you're almost blinded by the cop car headlights.

they’d formed a lineup behind open car doors, guns aimed up at you.

“Statica!” a gruff voice called from the depths of the lights. “get on the ground and put your hands behind your head! you’re surrounded!”

you roll your shoulders, pretending to consider their offer. eventually you shook your head, “i don’t think so, sheriff. i’ve got class tomorrow, can’t be out too late.”

a crack of lightning rains from the sky and a nearby police car explodes, lifting a few feet off the ground and bursting into flames.

“well, i’ll be off.”

your hand raises to call down another bolt, one that would send you back to the sidewalk outside your apartment, when the officer calls again.

“drop your weapon!”

“my weapon?” you chuckle lowly, “you mean my hand—“

you’re cut short by a bang and a flash at the end of a standard police pistol.

several things happen at once:

a force hits you with enough power to force all your breath clean out your lungs. your body is thrown back against the sidewalk and your midriff grows warm. your hand finds your stomach, it's sticky there.

on the wall behind where you once stood, there's a gaping hole where the bullet that was supposed to be yours has dug a wide welt into the grey plaster.

"you missed!" a voice call somewhere beyond the flashing lights.

another shoot rings out, but you're gone in a shower of sparks before the bullet has chance to even graze your cheek.

you're back on the street outside your apartment building. the streetlamp buzzes above you.

your lungs are burning, grappling desperately for oxygen. your eyes find your stomach again:

where there should be blood and a bullet sized hole, instead is a tangled mess of white web. it's solidifying slowly over your yellow get-up.

"it ... there's no ways." you whisper, the only person out in the late night street.

your spider-man isn't going around pushing you out the way of police fire. he's probably off kissing babies and saving cats from trees.

no. this was someone else, and there's only one person-- but why would he be here?

your eyes find the line of rooftops as if Miguel's figure would crescent over your street. it doesn't. somewhere beyond them, a cop car whoops.

webbing is drying over your hand.

"fucking asshole."

-

you're being watched, all through the next day. all the way to friday, you can feel it. like tiny spiders crawling over your shoulder when you sit too still.

the heat of red eyes, they're never there when you look for them.

in the walks between classes, the breaks between sprawled over campus benches in the summer sun flittering out conversation riddled with classic complaints. i can't believe that fucking test, that twenty mark question at the end? is she crazy?

you've considered calling out. maybe he'd appear from the shadows, but you'd squashed the notion quickly. he didn't deserve your acknowledgement.

he's probably right chuffed with himself, saving you when you didn't need his interference. no. if he wants to lurk like a creep, let him!

but the thought weighed on you. your heart whined in the quiet dark of your room late at night. the empty space beside you, the prodding of a dream you'd long since killed: rising a grey soil-ridden hand out from the depths of it's grave.

it was never gonna work anyway. it was the thought that sent you into sleep.

friday night arrived like a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day.

you thrust your hips into your tiniest skirt and your chest through your prettiest top. your friends met you out on the sidewalk, already three drinks deep when you all spill into the muggy heat of the bar.

two vodka cranberries and three tequila shots under, the thought of Miguel dissipates. it's further incinerated by the warmth of the hand on your hip.

the man is tall - sure, not as tall as Miguel - and his blonde hair hung over his forehead. it didn't look soft, like how Miguel's did--

your grip tightened around the half-empty cup, thumb-sized welts melting through the plastic with the electric heat of your hand. shut up.

he brings you another drink. you chug it without another thought. he laughs and wipes at a red drop running down your chin with a cool hand. the bar swims around you in technicolour strobe lights and before you know it, the enthusiasm of the good times are whittling down to a thin thread.

"can i walk you home?"

you nod. he slips your hand in his and it's still too cool against your hot palm.

in the barely lit street, you wonder if he notices your glow. it wasn't so bright when you wanted it to be, but he was still too distracted by the tune of his own voice to notice.

"and we went down to the dock that day, there was a whole keg stand and we even--"

you think that maybe if you were as drunk as you were an hour ago that you'd have more energy to entertain him better. you nodded dumbly instead.

a quick in and out, you thought. you could tolerate him just for a few more hours if it meant he left your bed before the sun rises. he wasn't who you wanted, but he was here. and Miguel wasn't.

now that the alcohol in you was dwindling, not dead but dying, the melancholy of your situation was curling a cold hand up and making it hard to breath where it wrapped around your throat.

your building watched contemptuously down at you when you drew to a stop in front of it.

the man's, Cooper's, blue eyes draws circles over your face and his hand finds your waist again. he inches you closer.

"am i saying goodnight, or are you inviting me inside?"

you smile at him. it's faint and half-assed.

the rest of the night looms in your mind. could you really stand his Old Spice reeked conversation for another few hours? and would he really be able to get your mind off--

oh, oh. he's leaning in.

his thumb is pressing into the cavern of your cheeks, eyes pressing closed as rum-stifled breath nears your lips--

thwip. thwip.

there's a gust of air and a thump and Cooper is plastered to the side of your building in white webbing. his hands are pinned at his side, face white in shock.

your eyes widen. you teeter on shaky drunk legs, turning to face the rooftops where the darkness is blanketing over them and hiding where you know Miguel is lurking within.

alcohol infused rage claws up within you.

"O' Hara!" you scream out into the street. your hands heat, the streetlamp above flickering wildly under your influence. "you fucking asshole!"

your foot stamps against the concrete, hands racing up to your head and through your hair. "aaaghhh--!"

the bulb in the streetlight bursts. glass showers over your tantrum. it follows down the row of lights down the street, exploding in quick succession and sinking the sidewalk under an inky black cover.

you're now shining like a light on the mast of a fishing ship, casting a glow over the sea of tar. the spider is yet to emerge into your line.

"you are so full of shit! and if i see you again i will blast you through the whole city block, and this time you won't wake up--!"

"what the fuck--"

you turn with glowing eyes on the blonde bound to the wall, "shut up!"

thwip. his head bangs back against the brick where another web has sealed his mouth shut.

whipping back, your eyes find a shuffling figure over the next building. it's just a flicker of movement and then it's gone.

"ugh! you are so childish!"

you draw your hands over your face, running them down your cheeks and sigh. a couple deep breaths later and you can feel the heat of your power subsiding, it's dragging the anger down along with it.

"i'm going to bed." you mutter, patting down your skirt and fixing the edge of your shirt.

"mmpf--" Cooper moans against his restraints.

you'd just about forgotten about the man glued to your building. you cock your head at him.

"yeah ... well. good luck with that."

the buzzer echoes behind you when you shut the gate on his struggling.

-

it's hot when you wake up.

the covers are sticking to your legs and there's an itch in your throat for a tall glass of water. somewhere beyond the thrum of a headache against your forehead, you remember the bottle of water you set aside to cool in the fridge for this exact moment.

you groan when your feet hit the floor, the rush of blood to your head doing nothing to aid where your brain is pounding.

the apartment is warm with the soft glow of nearly morning. your alarm clock is flashing red - 05:02

orange light peeks over the counter when you pull your fridge open, the glare of starchy blue light pressing against your sensitive eyes. from the bottom drawer, you fish out the bottle and unscrew the cap.

you chug it down noisily, wet slurps echoing across the room. when you set it down you sigh, "god."

the image of your bed swims in your mind. the lure of the sheets calls to you again.

"princesa."

your back slams into the edge of the counter, "j-jesus--"

lurking in the corner by the door, wide shoulders out of place in the cramped apartment, stands Miguel O' Hara in his shiny red and blue suit.

your heart leaps into your throat, lodging there like a stone. you swallow around it. fuck, he looks so good.

"you," you stabilise the water bottle where it's spilt over the floor from your leap in fright. "what the hell are you doing here?"

he takes a step towards you. you press further back against the counter.

"i came to talk to you."

you guffaw, mouth slackening in amused disbelief. "talk? now you wanna talk?"

rising irritation flushes blood down to your legs, anger urges your steps forward all the way until your standing beneath him.

"you have been a pain in my ass for two weeks now--" you shove a finger into his hard chest, rising enough electricity to zap him but not enough to hurt. well, not hurt too much. he flinches.

"i've been a pain-- you electrocuted me through the side of a building?"

his face twisted, brow-bone hardening where he was glaring down at you.

"you deserved it. and i hope it hurt."

"it didn't."

"you're a liar."

silence rung into the space. you held your glare, but could feel it slowly softening. Miguel's hair was creeping over the edge of his forehead and his eyes had turned back to their chestnut brown that glittered in the sunlight peeking through the window.

he looked so ... so tame in this light. cramped into your apartment like he could belong there, like he could maybe be yours if you asked.

you broke first, turning away. "get out, Miguel." it was a whisper but you know he heard it.

"i need to talk to you."

you shook your head, refusing to meet his gaze again. "you had two weeks to talk, but instead you've been interfering in my life--"

"interfering? i saved you."

you huffed, forcing yourself to face him again. "saved me? saved me from what, a lunch date? a one night stand?"

at that, he turned away. face reddening. "i wouldn't have had to do that if you weren't going out with such fucking losers--"

"oh, pardon me for trying to find a date in my own dimension, someone who actually gives a shit about me.”

“i give a shit about you.”

you stilled. your lip wobbled against your will. “that’s not fair, Miguel.”

he shrunk the space by taking another step. “i came to apologise—“

you shook your head again. eyes finding the floor. against your sides, your palms were warming again: your next steps playing out in your mind.

another scalding hand to the chest, his body seizing underneath your palm and dragging his unconscious body out onto the street. probably come back and cry yourself back to sleep.

your hand rises.

“oh no,” thwip. thwip. “not this time, mi amor.”

just as he’d done to Cooper, your hands were plastered back against your apartment wall: splayed out against the cream paint job.

“this webbing thing is getting real fucking boring O’Hara—“

he was against you in an instant. warm, solid chest pressed against your pajama shirt. his hands came to cup your cheeks.

“i came to apologise.” you pressed your head back against the cold wall, eyes trained on the corner of the floor in your kitchen. it needed a vacuum. “i know i should have come when you asked. i know that.”

if you look at him, for even a second, you’d crumble and you knew it. your eyes were clouding, waterline wet.

a calloused finger ran slow and gentle down your jaw. “please look at me, princesa.”

you shook your head. a stray tear chased down, catching under the press of his finger.

“why don’t you go bother one of your other inter-dimensional girlfriends, Miguel.”

he growled at that, low and deep, and you’d be a liar if you said your knees didn’t buckle under the sound.

Miguel pressed forward: cheek to yours, hand digging welts into your hip.

“there’s no-one else. there’s only you, it’s only ever been you.”

you huffed at that, it curled at the edge with a humourless chuckle. “what, with this jawline and these muscles? i hope you don’t think i’m a fucking idiot.”

he caught the lobe of your ear between his teeth, pressing his body harder to yours, but you didn’t relent. your eyes fluttered against his heat, but stayed trained away from his shadowy figure.

“why are you so fucking difficult.” his breath was warm there. “you said prove it, Miggy, and i’m here proving it.”

“you’ve always known i was difficult.” you whisper, it’s more of an after-thought really.

he sighs, shoulders loosening just enough that you can make it out in the corner of your eye.

the flat column of his nose presses into your cheek. he nudges it there softly and it warms a pit deep inside you.

“sí, mi amor. lo sé.” hot lips press into your cheek and a whine escapes you before you can catch it. his thumb has reached up and is pressing into the space behind your ear.

his lips are traveling, just barely grazing your skin with pecks down your jaw. then to the column of your throat, to the bend between your shoulder and your neck.

“i know that … and you know that. and yet you still have no concept of how much trouble you make for me.” his voice swooping into the crevice of your collarbone. his teeth graze over that same spot. “how i can’t even work without thinking about you, watching every monitor hoping you’ll be in another dimension causing chaos so i can come find you and you can bat those pretty fucking eyelashes at me. can’t sleep. think about you lying beside me. about all the pretty noises i can draw from your pretty throat.”

his knee sinks to the ground, hitting the floor with a soft thump. the other follows shortly after.

that draws your gaze off the floor, eyes wide in surprise. they find the supple curls on the top of his head.

even on both knees, the crown of his head brushes under your nose.

the sight was widening the lump in your throat. it burnt to swallow.

“and yet you still never came.”

he shakes his head at that. gentle hands reach for the end of your pajama shirt, tugging it up slowly. Miguel leans forward and presses another kiss against the soft fat over your exposed hip.

you twitch against him, gasping at the heat of his lips over your cool skin. at your hands, your fingertips crackle with summoned energy. you can feel where the webbing is slowly melting under it’s press.

“‘s not true.” he says against you. “i’m here all the time.”

your shirt is being lifted higher as his head chases up your naked stomach, nipping at the skin where it freckles with goosebumps.

“i come to watch you—“

“that’s not creepy at all—“ you mutter, only teasing, and you’re punished with a particularly hard bite at your ribs.

“come because i miss your face and your laugh and …” he sighs, nudging his cheek against you. “god you make me fucking sick.”

there’s a squelch where the webbing has melted just enough for you to pry your hands from the wall, immediately grasping for the depths of Miguel’s hair.

“ever the romantic.” you huff. but you tug on his roots so he’s facing up to you, neck stretched deliciously with veins and hard muscle.

he’s blinking, lips parted as he waits for you.

“are you being serious, Miguel?” you ask quietly.

his eyes twinkle. “i am.”

you purse your lips, a smile creeping up into the corners of your mouth. your nails scrape over the crown of his head, trailing down to rest at the base of his neck. his eyes flutter shut against your hand.

“this might be the best apology i’ve ever received.”

he hums. “that’s good.”

“is it over, or should i let you finish? cause i’m kind of itching to kiss you right now.”

a smile of his own creeps over his face. it’s a sight you’ve maybe caught a glimpse of once in your life.

“i’m done.”

he leans up, persuaded by your touch reaching to cup his jaw. he’s almost at your mouth when he whispers again.

“you’re not gonna electrocute me for trying to kiss you again, are you?”

you laugh at that, his grip on your waist tightens at the sound. “you ever gonna let that go, old man?”

“old man?”

he surges forward, lips finding yours in a bruising kiss.

you giggle against him and your hands are everywhere: through his hair and down his shoulders and over his jaw. his tongue slips in against yours and it's saccharine like you'd always dreamed it to be. Miguel's hands race up your calves, behind your knees and hook beneath your thighs. he lifts you with him when he stands.

your legs wrap around him and he's persistent, pushing you against the wall in the heat of his kiss.

you detach your lips from his, chasing them down his cheek and into the crevice between his jaw and his neck. he groans, fingertips driving deeper into the plush of where he was holding you up by your thighs.

"i should get you jealous more often."

he guffaws, face above yours. "me? jealous of those idiots? as if."

leaning back to meet his face again, you cock an eyebrow. "you wrecked that guy's car. and taped the other one against a building."

his eyes rolled, an all-too-pretty blush darkening his face. he dropped it against your shoulder, "you know about the car?"

you laugh. "what else is big enough to flip a car in Manhattan. and the claw marks? you're so transparent it's almost hot."

Miguel chuckles and it's ticklish against your skin. he drops another kiss there. "i don't like sharing."

"sharing?"

he's back to nipping spots up your neck. "don't wanna share my girl."

the smile on your face was impossible to squash. "oh, i'm your girl now?"

he nods. "will you be?"

your fingers creep back into his hair, bringing him back into the light of your eyes. "you're not trying to make a hero out of me, are you? convert me to your little spider-squad?"

his lips purse, pretending to consider it, before eventually shaking his head. "no."

“wouldn’t a villain and a spider-man together collapse the multiverse or something?”

“then let it collapse.”

your thumb tugs on his fat bottom lip before letting it snap back in place. "god you're a sweet talker, Miggy."

you press forward to kiss him again. he sighs.

-

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