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sapphire-writes · 1 year ago

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Running On Sunshine (hospital AU)

Do No Harm part 3 || masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: doctor!Aemond Targaryen x doctor!Reader

summary: You haven't spoken to Aemond. Tensions rise between the two of you and come to a head at the arrival of a disruptive patient.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: NSFW mdni medical terminology, use of needles, discussion around addiction (specifically alcohol, rehab, recovery), fighting, blood, punching, explicit sex (p in v) fingering, oral (fem receiving), creampie, praise, dirty talk, spanking, language

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

note: here it is! long-awaited, thank you for being so patient as my brain jumps around 😂 hope you enjoy it!!

disclaimer: yall, I am not a doctor, I am simply a Grey's Anatomy stan. If something is off or incorrect please just suspend your disbelief! I am trying my best to make it as accurate as possible but its just for fun!!

It’s been a few days since your ultimatum with Aemond.

No texts.

No calls.

You pass each other in the halls and avoid eye contact, brushing past him close enough that if you extended your little finger you’d be sure to brush against the back of his hand.

You weren’t going to chase him.

You’d told him what you wanted. Told him you’d wanted him. And he had stayed silent. If that was the end of you and him, so be it.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t killing you inside. Watching him day in and day out walking through the halls of Citadel General in those stupid blue scrubs that he somehow wore like he was strutting down a runway not the hallway of a hospital.

It didn’t help that observations often included surgeries he was a part of. Aemond was a model resident, often asked to assist the attendants. And he was hard to miss, always wearing his signature scrub cap with little dragons peppered all over it, mid-flight. You’d catch him glancing up at the viewing gallery, peering up over his mask every now and then. You never caught his eye, he was much too quick for that.

“Switch with me,” you’d begged that afternoon after Baratheon had informed you of the plan to observe Dr. Cole’s surgery. There was no way Aemond wouldn't be there, Dr. Cole had chosen him as an obvious favorite.

You’d been catching up on notes with Cory for the past ten minutes, the pair of you both trying to shove food in your mouths before your pagers inevitably went off.

Labs. Observation. Notes. Scut work.

The never-ending revolving schedule of your internship.

Cory reaches into her bag of salt and vinegar chips, clicking her mouse furiously, her brows pinched together in concentration.

“I can’t,” she says through a mouthful, “Besides, you’ve already done this lab. If I don’t get these hours by the end of the week I’m about to take Jace’s place as Baratheon’s least favorite.”

You groan in frustration, letting your head rest against the keyboard of your computer. Nettles pops her head into the room, frowning at you both, “What’s wrong with her?”

Cory shrugs and you turn your head to face Nettles.

Beep beep!

Cory groans, checking her pager, “Shit, I gotta go,” she says, crushing her chip bag and logging out of the computer before heading out of the room, “Sorry again, Y/N!”

You mumble something along the lines of don’t worry about it just as she disappears from sight. Nettles raises her eyebrows.

“McDreamy?” she asks, and you continue to pout, “Damn. Dick is so good we should change his name to McDick.”

“You suck,” you tell her, but you can’t stop your smile, “Definitely not your best work.”

“McOrgasm? I’m still thinking of one that truly encompasses the distress he’s causing you. Dr. Cum?” she makes a face, “Okay ew. Definitely not Dr. Cum.”

You groan, putting your face in your hands, “What am I going to do?”

Nettles walks towards you, slapping the back of your head. You lift your head, mouth open in shock, palming the place she slapped.

“Hey! I was recently concussed!”

“And apparently it scrambled your brains more than we thought!” she snaps, “See what you’re not going to do is spend your days moping over Dr. Sexy. I don’t care how good his dick was. You are a doctor. You are an insanely smart woman and you are in your internship.”

Nettles lowers herself to your height, taking your hands in hers.

“He is very dreamy,” she says, her brown eyes empathetic, “But this is your time to shine. Not his. He’s not this important.”

It hurts---gods does it hurt---but she’s right. And you know it. You’ve been through situations like this before. You’ve gotten through things like this, and worse. Smiling at Nettles you squeeze her hands.

“Thank you.”

“Mhmm,” she says, smiling, “Always here for a reality check. You’re the sun, babe.”

You smile back at her, “I’m the sun.”

“Damn right,” she says, chuckling, “How’s Cece doing?”

“She was discharged this morning,” you tell her, beaming with pride, “Just finished her last round of antibiotics and her labs are clear. I’m working on her note now.”

Nettles plops down in Cory’s seat, reaching into the chip bag she left behind. Her hand comes out empty and she frowns.

Jace opens the door, looking rather sweaty and discombobulated. He’s been running around the most, trying to get on Barartheon’s good side.

“Hey,” he says, out of breath, “Can you guys help me in the pit?”

“No can do,” Nettles says, “We’ve got observation soon.”

You nod agreeing, but become curious noticing Jace’s panicked expression.

“Why what’s wrong?” you ask.

“Just…five minutes,” Jace says, “Please, I need someone. And I can’t find Sara and Cory--I just need someone, please.”

You turn to Nettles.

“The pit?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at you, “Really?”

“Tell Baratheon I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you tell her, “Besides, maybe it’s a good case.”

“Girl,” Nettles says, sighing and shaking her head.

“I just really need your help,” Jace says, leading you through the emergency room, weaving between nurses and patients, “It’s just that…I mean I didn’t know the other day but now…”

“Didn’t know what?” you ask as he stops outside a curtain.

“-- he’s back again and family members--,” Jace says, brown eyes wide, “We’re not supposed to work on family members.”

Your eyebrows concave together in confusion when suddenly the curtain pulls back. A man is lying in the hospital bed, a halo of platinum hair cascading onto the pillow he lays on. His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, a lazy grin appearing on his face as he gives you a once-over.

“Nephew,” he sing-songs, giggling, “You brought me a present!”

Jace sighs, pulling the curtain from his grasp. Wait a minute. Nephew? Your eyes scan the giggling man as Jace snaps something at him. The silvery hair, the violet eyes. Seven hells.

How many Targaryens are there?

“Excuse me?”

“He’s kidding,” Jace says, forcing a smile and turning to his uncle, “You’re kidding.”

His uncle shakes his head, lower lip jutting out in a pout, “I’ve never told a joke in my life. She’s pretty Jacey, well done.”

Your cheeks burn at the compliment, at the way his eyes cascade down your body. You’ve never felt more exposed in simple scrubs.

“Stop calling me that,” Jace snaps, cheeks reddening.

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Jacey boy,” he croons, “Thought Baela had taken your balls when she dumped your ass--”

“Funnier every time I see you, Aegon,” Jace interrupts, closing the curtain once more.

Aegon’s mouth drops open in surprise before he’s hidden from sight. You raise an eyebrow at Jace, folding your arms across your chest.

“He’s harmless,” Jace assures you, “Please, please just help get him out of here as soon as possible.”

“Well, that’s sort of difficult when we don’t know what’s wrong--”

“I know what’s wrong.”

You frown, raising an eyebrow at him, “You know?”

“Yeah, he’s fucking drunk. He’s always drunk. Just give him a banana bag, let him sober up, and get him out of here,” Jace instructs.

“How do you know he’s drunk?”

“Considering the fact he hasn’t been sober since I was eight years old, it’s not hard to guess,” Jace tells you, “He’s been to more rehab programs than I can count. Trust me on this.”

“I’m still going to have to do some labs,” you tell him, not willing to go against protocol.

“That’s fine, do what you have to do just…keep him out of the way,” Jace pleads, eyes widening as though he’d just remembered something very important, “And don’t let Aemond know he’s here.”

Your gut tightens at the mention of Aemond.

“Why not?”

“Just don’t. It’s better for everyone if no one knows Aegon is here,” Jace finishes, “Thank you, I owe you big time.”

“Yeah you do,” you confirm, and then Jace hurries out of sight, eager to escape the pit.

The curtain opens once more and you turn, meeting the curious gaze of Aegon Targaryen. You try to stop the scowl that threatens to overtake your face as he grins widely, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Ow!”

“Will you hold still!”

“You’re killing me!”

“Stop being so dramatic!”

“It hurts!”

“It won’t hurt if you stay still, Aegon!”

Aegon throws his opposite arm over his eyes as you attempt to find a vein for the third time. He’s too squirmy, too anxious that as soon as the needle pierces his ivory skin he’s flinching away and howling.

“I’ve seen children do better than you,” you grumble, and he gasps in feigned shock.

“They let you torture children?”

“Hush!” you insist, and to your relief, he’s able to stay still as you start the IV, “There you go. See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Aegon peaks over his arm, glancing down at the tubes as you assemble them properly, making sure the drip is even. He frowns as you release the tourniquet.

“I bruise like a peach,” he mumbles.

“Sounds like you need more iron in your diet,” you tell him, walking to the other side of his bed. You need to take his blood pressure and begin wrapping the band around his arm.

“Can I have something for the pain?” he asks.

“No, you may not.”

“Not even Tylenol?”

“No.”

“Hells,” he mumbles, “You should know, I enjoy it when women are mean to me, it turns it on.”

“Of course it does.”

“Mhmm. I eat that shit up.”

You’ve been trying not to look at his face for too long. If you look at Aegon, you’ll start thinking about Aemond.

You’ve been trying very hard not to think about Aemond.

They don’t really look alike, despite the matching hair and eye color. Though he’s sitting down you can tell Aegon has none of Aemond’s height. He’s soft whereas Aemond is sharp. Their mouths may be the most similar thing about them, both awarded beautifully pouty lips made to be kissed.

“What’s on your mind, doc?” Aegon says, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying, I’m very perceptive,” Aegon insists, “Come on tell me. What is it? Doctor drama? Boyfriend drama?” Your face must give something away when he asks, because his eyes light up, “Boyfriend drama.”

It’s no use, you can feel your face heating up, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Fuck off.”

Your head snaps up at him, and you remove the blood pressure sleeve. Discarding it in favor of your stethoscope you place the end against his chest.

“Breathe in.”

“D’you have a girlfriend then?” he relentlessly continues.

“No.”

“A fuck buddy?”

“Hells,” you mumble in frustration, trying to listen to his heartbeat.

“Please tell me it isn’t my nephew,” Aegon says, making a face.

“What?” you answer, far too quickly, “No! Seven hells, Jace and I are friends! And I do not sleep with colleagues.”

“Everyone sleeps with colleagues,” Aegon argues, “How else do you meet people?”

“That working well for you?”

“Oh I don’t work,” he answers, “That’s boring.”

You choke back a laugh. The man truly is ridiculous.

“Alright then. Well, you’re all set once you’re done with your fluids we’ll check your vitals again and send you on your way,” you tell him, making a note in his chart, “I can have the nurses reach out to some detox programs if you’re interested.”

“I’m not.”

“Look, I understand a bit of your history from what Jace shared. But you should know, recovery isn’t linear, and relapse is completely normal-”

“I haven’t relapsed.”

You blink.

“Your BAC was 1.06,” you inform him, “That’s more than a little buzzed.”

“I haven’t had a drink since Nyra birthed her last gremlin,” he insists, not elaborating on who Nyra was, “I’m just like this.”

Your eyebrows knit together. He could be lying, you know that. Addiction is one hell of a disease.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he groans.

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me.”

You’re silent for a moment, just staring into his violet eyes.

“Your blood--”

“Fuck the labs,” he groans, “They always come back like that. I haven’t taken anything. I haven’t drank anything. Believe me, I’d be much more obvious.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, a pretty little thing like you wouldn’t be so far away,” he comments, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, “I don’t know why this happens. I think my body got so used to being fucked up, it just does it on its own now.”

“You’re being serious,” you comment, and he nods.

It goes against everything you’ve learned in med school, and in residency thus far. Your pager beeps and you glance at it. It’s Nettles. You’re supposed to be joining her soon.

When you hear hooves, think horses, not zebras.

You chew your bottom lip. Aegon raises a brow, already looking better with the intake of fluids.

Fuck it.

You quickly page Nettles, and let her know you’re needed longer in the pit. Hopefully, Baratheon doesn’t kill you for this.

We’re going with the zebras.

“Okay so I’m going to send the sample to the lab and see what comes back,” you inform Aegon, “And if you’re being honest with me, we should have some answers for you.”

Aegon swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“Why would I lie?”

You want to roll your eyes, but you’re sure if you do in his presence once more they’ll fall out of your skull. He gives you a cheeky grin as he notices your exasperation.

“People lie all the time,” you tell him.

“To you?” Aegon asks, snatching your hand is his, “Never, princess.”

You hear Nettles suddenly, her voice flowing through the ER and your stomach turns. Surely, it's Dr. Baratheon coming to reprimand you for missing observation to spend time in the pit ‘trolling for surgeries.’ The curtain opens then, and to your horror, it’s Aemond who has discovered you rather than Dr. Baratheon.

His eyes fall to your face first before he turns to Aegon. His gaze drops to your interlocked hands. Something washes over him, his expression cold and calculating.

“Out,” he says, voice quiet as death.

Aegon chuckles, but you can hear the nervousness he’s trying to hide. You can see it in the way he wets his lips, the way he pulls his hand from yours.

“Bro…”

“Out, now,” Aemond repeats, “Don’t make me drag you out in front of all these people.”

“Careful now,” Aegon says, standing, “you know how mummy feels about you getting your hands dirty--”

Aemond steps forward, hands fisting Aegon’s shirt and dragging him forward. Your eyes widen in shock and Nettles yelps as Aemond pushes past her, dragging Aegon with him.

The display has gathered the attention of several nurses and patients as Aemond continues to drag him through the ambulance entrance and out the automatic doors. You and Nettles remain closely on their heels as they exit the hospital.

Aemond releases his hold, sending Aegon stumbling into the road.

“Seven hells!” Nettles says, a shocked expression on her face.

Aegon laughs maniacally, bending over with his hands on his knees. He shakes his head several times, like a dog before looking up.

“Go home,” Aemond says, flexing his hand.

“Where’s that?”

“Wherever you’ve been staying I suppose,” Aemond quips.

Aegon is panting, staring at his brother.

“I’d like to see Helaena.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Helaena!” he yells at the sky, “She’s my sister, I know she wants to see me.”

“You’re not shaking her down for any more fucking money,” Aemond says, his voice louder this time, making you flinch, “Go home, Aegon.”

Aegon wets his lips, running a hand through his hair. His eyes meet yours.

“You’ll call me? With the results?” he asks, and Aemond snorts.

“Another STI screening?” Aemond snarks.

Aegon’s tongue pokes his cheek, an angry smile on his face.

“Gotta make sure I’m all clear before saddling up with a fit bird,” he taunts, eyes falling on you as he says it, grabbing his crotch for emphasis.

Aemond lurches forward his hand connecting with Aegon’s cheek. Nettles and you both scream as Aemond jumps back, Aegon spitting a mix of blood and saliva on the ground. He laughs again, smiling with bloody teeth.

“Get him cleaned up and get him out of here,” Aemond instructs Nettles, before heading back inside and leaving the three of you standing there.

Aegon’s lip is split, along with a cut on his cheekbone. He spits again, wiping his face and nodding at you.

“No boyfriend eh?” he says, grinning. Your face flushes.

“I wasn’t lying.”

His grin widens.

“One of us is,” he says, referencing your earlier conversation, “Guess we’ll find out who.”

Nettles approaches him, and he winces. She turns to you.

“You should go see if he’s okay,” she says, nodding to the doors.

You run back inside leaving Nettles and Aegon, your eyes searching for Aemond. Hurrying to the nurses' station, they inform you which direction he took off in. A nervous sweat breaks out on the back of your neck as you hurry down the hallway. You spot him then, taller than everyone else, watching as he ducks into an on-call room.

Quickening your pace you follow him inside. It’s quiet as you close the door, besides the sound of a noise machine echoing white noise in the dimly lit space. There are two beds in this room; truly the on-call rooms are in such sorry states. Small twin mattresses with paper-thin sheets and pillows that may as well be pieces of foam.

Aemond sits on the bed to the left, his head resting in his hands. You close the blinds on the door, flipping the sign that says “Both Beds Occupied” along with flicking the lock. You don’t think he’ll want to be disturbed.

“Aemond,” you say softly. He doesn’t move. The knuckles of his right hand are bloody.

Taking a step closer, you watch his shoulders rise and fall with the deep breaths he’s taking. Anxiety churns in your stomach, and you take a step back, placing your hand on the handle of the door.

“I’ll just leave you--”

“Don’t,” Aemond speaks quietly for the first time, raising his head. His gaze softens, his eyes somewhat glassy. “Please don’t go.”

Your heart starts to race, but you nod, stepping back toward him. Sitting beside him the bed creaks; you cross your ankles and place your hands on the edge of the bed. Aemond rests his chin on his hands, arms propped on his knees. The pair of you sit in silence for several moments. It begins to rain outside, fat droplets of water beating against the window.

“You should get that looked at,” you finally say, nodding at his hand.

Aemond merely hums in response, flexing his fingers.

“Seriously, you’re a surgeon,” you continue, “What are you thinking, throwing punches like that?”

Aemond glances at his hand, curling and uncurling his fingers, “He brings out the worst in me.”

“Your brother.”

“Mhmm,” he answers, shaking his hand. It’s not as bad as it looks, thankfully. He could have done some serious damage.

“I’m sorry. Jace told me…well I’m just sorry.”

“It’s alright. Someone has to treat him. I’m sorry if he was inappropriate to you.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, “We don’t get to choose how patients behave.”

“Aegon can be a lot. Take it from someone who knows him rather well.”

“Noted.”

You sit in silence some more. The sky outside has begun to turn dark as clouds roll in, the sound of thunder audible in the distance. A storm is looming.

“I’ve missed you,” he says so softly you almost don’t catch it.

Your hands dig into the side of the bed, your heart pounding against your ribs making your chest feel painfully tight.

“Don’t-”

“Y/N..”

“Please Aemond,” you cut him off, eyes watery, “Please. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it,” he insists, turning his head toward you, “It’s just…Y/N that day I didn’t give you an answer. And you deserve one. I like you. I like you so much. You’re an incredibly intelligent person, funny, adorable, and…” he trails off, shaking his head slightly as he chuckles to himself.

“And what?”

“And that scares the shit out of me. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I wasn’t expecting you. When I moved here I just planned on keeping my head down and then….then there was you,” he looked away, his eyes lit up in wonder, “I saw you in that bar, and it was like the sun came out.”

Your lips part, your stomach flutters pleasantly at his words, and goosebumps erupt on your skin. He glances at you shyly, the tips of his ears tinged pink.

“And then I saw you here and you’re an intern, at the beginning of your residency I just….I mess things up. I don’t want to mess things up for you. Or with you.”

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers through his, “Okay.”

“But…I miss you. I miss talking to you, kissing you,” Aemond continues, the top of his cheeks turning pink, matching his ears, “You asked me if I’m in or out. I didn’t answer, and I should have. I’m all in.”

“Aemond…”

“If you’ll have me,” he adds, “If you…if you want to give this a try.”

You smile at him softly.

“It’s all I wanted from the start.”

Aemond smiles, leaning toward you and connecting his lips to yours. You sigh against his mouth, as his hand snakes around the back of your neck, keeping you from going anywhere. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips, and you part them eagerly accepting the warm muscle into your mouth.

Your hands bury themselves in his scrubs as he turns his head, deepening the kiss. His opposite hand reaches for your waist, sliding down to rest on the meat of your thigh. He rubs soothing circles there for a moment, before gripping you hard and pulling you on top of him.

You straddle his waist as he scoots backward, pressing his back flat against the wall. He breaks the kiss for only a moment, tugging your blue scrub top over your head, before desperately chasing your lips once more. Shivering in the cool air, your nipples harden in your bra. You almost wish you’d worn something a little sexier, the plain black bra making you feel underdressed.

Aemond eyes your tits like a madman as his skilled hands eagerly unclasp your bra, pulling it from your torso.

“Should we be doing this--” you gasp, grinding against the hardness between his thighs.

“Yes, yes we should,” he says, kissing you once more before pausing, his eyebrows knitting together, “Unless you don’t want..”

“No! I mean--fuck, yes, yes we should and I want to,” you whimper as his teeth graze against your neck, “But I mean, here…” Aemond continues his attention to your neck, his perfect mouth nipping and sucking the sensitive skin.

“No one’s coming,” he murmurs, “You locked the door, yes?”

You nod, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, groaning as you clench your fists, tugging at his hair.

He catches your lips once more and you arch your back, pressing yourself against him trying to get as close as humanly possible. Moaning against his mouth he chuckles softly, the sound reverberating against you.

“Shh,” he croons, brushing some hair from your face, “You have to be quiet.” He nips your lower lip as he says it, smoothing his tongue along where he bit, “Something you have trouble with, I recall.”

Your cheeks warm at the memory of your first night together, the puddle he’d turned you into with such little effort. Lashes fluttering, you look up at him as he admires you.

“You’ll have to remind me,” you tease, earning a growl from him as he flips you onto your back beginning to pull your scrub pants from your body.

Eager to assist, you kick wildly trying to get the soft material off. Aemond catches your right calf in his large hand, trying to avoid being kicked.

“Careful,” he chuckles, pressing a hot kiss to your calf, helping you out of your scrubs, shoes, and underwear.

“Sorry,” you manage to say through your giggles as he tosses the ball of clothes toward the opposite bed, “We’re a bit uneven now, wouldn’t you agree?”

Grinning, Aemond pulls his scrub top from his body as thunder crashes outside. The sky has darkened considerably and lightning flashes, illuminating the room. Aemond’s hands travel up your calves, hooking against your knees as he cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Better?”

Your eyes trace down his exposed front following the planes of his chest, the chiseled outline of his abdominal muscles. You swallow, feeling yourself clench as your gaze rests on the outline of his hard bulge.

Nodding, you take your lower lip between your teeth, dragging your gaze back to his face. Aemond’s breathing is heavy as he sits on his haunches, eyes raking down your naked body.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he breathes appreciatively, “Gods…” He lets one hand move up your body, fingers dancing against the skin of your waist, up the side of your ribs to your breast. He explores higher and higher until with a desperate whine you reach up pulling him toward you.

You could kiss him forever.

You want to kiss him forever.

The hand that rests on your leg curls inward, stroking the soft flesh of your inner thigh before inching higher. Your breathing has started to turn to pants as Aemond lets one of his long fingers part through your silky folds, spreading your arousal.

“Seven hells,” he groans, swirling his finger against your clit, “All this for me?”

“Mhmm,” you tell him, biting your lip and trembling against him already.

Aemond only smirks, that familiar look of confidence in his eye, “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” you tell him, as the tip of his finger sinks inside of you, “Fuck-- just for you.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, pushing further inside of you, stretching you out on his forefinger. A second finger soon joins and he scissors the digits against your fluttering walls.

You’re trying to be quiet---really you are trying--- but it feels too good. He’s too precise with his movements, too insistent on bullying that sensitive rough patch that causes your eyes to roll back in your head. “Aemond…I can’t--”

“Shhh baby, I know, it feels too good to be quiet, huh?” he says, voice full of mock sympathy, “Don’t worry, I’ll make you cum really quick, let me take care of you, yeah?”

You nod furiously, a choked moan escaping you as Aemond presses a tender kiss to your forehead. Moving away from you, he keeps up his relentless pace with his fingers as he slides onto his stomach on the bed. Your eyes widen as Aemond glances up at you from between your legs, a cheeky smile on his handsome face.

“Aem----oh fuck!” your concern is short-lived as Aemond presses his mouth against you.

His tongue traces lazy circles over your clit, groaning, “Hells, I missed this sweet little pussy,” he mumbles, taking the sensitive button between his lips and suctioning around it.

Throwing your head back against the pillows, your back arches, and your mouth opens in a silent scream. The rain continues to pour outside, the drumming against the window matching that of your racing heart.

“Oh yeah, I know that’s so good, huh?” Aemond mumbles between licks of your clit, his free hand snaking upwards to grope at your breasts, “Fuck you look so pretty…all whiny and desperate.”

He curls his fingers as he says it, massaging the tender spot inside of you causing your pussy to spasm against his fingers. His tongue traces nonsensical patterns around your clit, his lips sucking and releasing causing lewd wet noises to echo through the room.

“Next time,” he murmurs a quiet promise, “Next time, when I’ve got lots of time…we’ll see how long I can keep you like this.” His fingers pinch your right nipple, tweaking it harshly.

Your belly tenses, muscles constricting against his fingers as he returns his sweet torture on your clit, and you finish with a muffled sob as you turn your head, pressing your mouth against your shoulder. Aemond murmurs soft praises, talking you through your orgasm as your legs shake around him.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” you hiss through your teeth as he slowly pulls his fingers from your fluttering pussy, bringing them to his mouth.

You watch, wide-eyed as he sucks the lengthy digits, moaning at the taste of you.

“Turn around baby,” he says, sitting up, “Put your face in the pillow.”

Shakily, you turn on your hands and knees, before letting yourself fall to your forearms. Aemond slides his hand down your back, admiring the curve of your spine, spreading your cheeks wide.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs, slapping your cheeks, causing you to yelp, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“You’re an ass man?” you tease, looking back over your shoulder.

“I’m a ‘you’ man,” he argues, grabbing his length and sliding it against your folds, “Now be a good girl, and let me take care of you.” The fat head of his cock pokes at your entrance.

“Please,” you breathe as he starts to slide in. Aemond pauses, groaning slightly.

“Fuck baby, you can’t say that all sweet right now,” he growls, “We don’t have time.”

“Please, put it in,” you whimper, cheek pressed against the pillow, drool forming a wet patch under your cheek.

Aemond’s hand cracks down on your ass once more, “Be a good girl you little brat.”

You whimper, your begging ceasing as he slides fully inside your tight, wet heat. The stretch of his fingers was nothing compared to his thick cock. Your walls tense around him, pulsating around his thick length as he bottoms out. Rocking backward, he slides nearly all the way out before thrusting back in.

Electricity bursts through your veins, pleasure crackling through your limbs like the lightning outside of the window. The force of his thrusts sends your face deep into the pillow, muffling the sharp cries of pleasure you emit. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, it feels too fucking good, the head of his cock rubbing ceaselessly against your g-spot as he ruts against you; he’s grunting softly, muttering praises all the while, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Fuck,” he gasps as your knees slide down, legs shaking so bad you’re unable to keep them upright, “It’s okay baby, just relax I got you.”

Your legs bend against the mattress, thighs splayed, hip flexors burning with the deep stretch it awards you. Aemond never relents, just continues to slap his hips against the softness of your ass, his cock sliding effortlessly in and out, in and out.

“Aemond,” you moan, “Fuck it feels--”

“Yeah?” he groans, “How’s it feel baby?”

“S-s’good, Aem, fuck, it’s so good,” you whimper, hands fisting the sheets, the bed shaking with every harsh thrust.

The bed grinds against your sensitive nipples and clit sending sparks of pleasure burning through you.

“Gonna make this pussy feel so good,” he says, leaning some of his weight on top of you, his face next to yours, “Gonna take you home after our shifts, you’d like that, yeah?” His arms hold him up, propped on either side of your head.

“Yes, fuck please,” you agree, turning your face, and feeling him press a kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Gonna have you ride my face,” he promises, dragging his nose between your shoulder blades, “Wanna make that pussy feel so good, till you can’t fucking take it anymore.”

“Fuck Aemond,” you shiver with delight at his filthy words, at the promise of a repeat of the first night you’d been together. A promise of more.

“Missed you too much,” he murmurs against your shoulder, sending warmth pooling in your belly, “Need you close to me.”

“I missed you,” you whimper, “Fuck, need you so bad.”

“I’m all yours,” he says, nearly whimpering himself, “Fuck baby, you’re so tight, feel so good clenching around my cock.”

“Yeah?” you ask, lifting your head slightly, and glancing back through hooded eyes.

Aemond maneuvers himself, leaning to capture your lips in a sloppy, heated kiss as he continues to pound into you.

“Fuck��.c’mon baby, one more time,” Aemond encourages as heat winds a tight coil of pleasure in your belly, “Can’t have my baby only cumming once, now can I? Come on, that’s a good girl.”

The pitch of your cries increases and you slam your face against the pillow to muffle your strangled cry as your whole body tense, pussy constricting like a vice around his cock as you come. It’s intense, it burns with a brutal passion that paints stars behind your eyelids.

Aemond’s thrusts become sloppier and with a few more slaps of his hips, you feel his cock pulsate inside of you and the warmth release of his cum filling you up. You turn your cheek from the pillow, your body tingling with the remnants of your orgasm as you suck in a breath. Gently, Aemond pulls out of you, peppering kisses down the length of your spine as he does so.

You hum happily as he slides out, placing his hands under your thighs and maneuvering you out of the frog-like position you were previously in. Your hip flexors ache, but it’s a good pain--well worth being fucked into the mattress. Aemond turns you on your back, brushing some hair from your sweaty forehead.

“Hey there,” he says softly. The room is quiet, the rain has stopped. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever walk right again,” you tell him with a content sigh, “but that aside, I’d say I’m more than alright.”

Aemond chuckles, thumb smoothing your cheekbone, making you lean into his gentle touch.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, standing up, walking to the adjacent bathroom, and flicking on the light.

You watch him walk away, admiring his ass. He’s got a rather nice one. You hear him turn the water on and a moment later he returns with a washcloth. Not trusting yourself to stand, you simply spread your legs and let him clean up the remains of your combined releases. Your hips jerk as he carefully brushes against your swollen clit causing him to release a breathy laugh.

Beep beep!

The noise snaps you both out of your post-coital bliss bubble and you hurry to find your clothes. Aemond reaches for his pager, desperate to get his scrubs on.

Beep beep!

It’s your pager this time. Shit, Baratheon must be pissed.

Both of you scramble, switching scrub tops as Aemond accidentally tries to put on yours, causing you to erupt into a fit of laughter that is only stopped when he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in for a heated kiss.

“Stop, stop,” you beg, pushing against his hard chest, “Shit we have to go.”

“One more--”

“You’re insatiable--”

“Oh I’ll show you insatiable,” he says, lips tugging upwards in a smirk, “You just wait until tonight.”

Your cheeks burn as you yank on your bottoms, fixing your hair. Sex hair is not an option, not when Baratheon will be up in arms about your disappearance. Glancing at your pager, you read what it says before clipping it to your waist.

“Okay, I gotta go,” you tell him, shoving your feet into your sneakers.

“Meet me in the lobby? When you’re done?” he asks, unable to hide his smile as you walk to the door on trembling legs.

“Okay,” you tell him, leaning forward, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “And we could get dinner?”

“Anything you want,” he says, cupping your cheeks and kissing you again, “Anything” another kiss, “At” and another one, “all.”

You hum happily, placing your hand over his, your entire body warming with his affection.

“I’ll see you then,” you tell him, unwillingly pulling away and unlocking the door.

You leave first, Aemond leaving a few moments later. Watching as he fixes the collar of his scrubs, you find yourself beaming. Aemond turns, catching your eye before turning down the hall, a small smile playing on his lips.

Gods, this is going to be a long shift.

note: hope you liked it!! LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!

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mangoisms · 1 year ago

Text

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter five: i am found on the ground | read chapter four

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.5k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

━ a/n: if you'd like to see my notes (and my thoughts behind a certain inclusion of a character in this chapter), you can find them here <3 (also i'm on fire is playing in the last scene the formatting of the lyrics just killed me so i had to get rid of it thank you all)

“You just can’t beat it.”

“It was okay.”

You turn sharply to look at Tim, who shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips.

In the kitchen, Steph snorts. “Here we go.”

You ignore her. “Okay? Inception was okay—”

“Uncalled for—”

“But true. This?” You gesture to his flatscreen TV, where the end credits for Interstellar are playing; you’re a little bit red-eyed from the end scenes with Cooper and Murph but no less passionate. “This is more than okay. It’s—”

“Not technically scientifically accurate.”

You grab a pillow and gently whack him with it. He tries to hide a growing smile. You don’t understand what exactly he’s smiling at but you don’t care in this moment.

“It’s not about scientific accuracy, duck boy, it’s about love.”

“Yeah!” Steph yells from the kitchen. “Go love! Woo!”

You gesture in her direction. “He literally said it in the movie, Tim. How can you miss it? And Brand, too!”

“It wasn’t enough to save who she loved, though,” he points out—ever the devil’s advoactate, honestly…

“But it was there and she knew that, too, and she was okay with it. And it was enough for Cooper and Murph, too. I mean, literally to the point that she was able to save humanity. Right? Brand said it—love is the one thing we are capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space.”

Tim looks… well, far from upset or annoyed. He seems amused, almost… almost fond, the way he looks at you, but it’s too much for you to handle, so you look away, pouting a little.

“And also, okay, I know entering the black hole wasn’t ‘scientifically accurate’ but that’s the point, that some higher being switched them out so he didn’t die. You do have to admit, however, that the depiction of the black hole, which I’ll give Nolan props for, was great.”

“Okay, true,” he concedes. “The score was pretty good, too.”

“It was excellent.”

Steph steps out from the kitchen, looking at her phone. “Give me a sec, you guys, my mom’s calling me.”

You both give her an affirmative and she steps out the front door. You and Tim quickly resume your discussion.

“Inception’s score was good, too,” he points out.

“Bah. They both had Zimmer. Of course it’s going to be good. But Interstellar has the benefit of being enhanced by it because it’s already a good movie. I mean, it surprises even me that Nolan could manage to pull off something like this.”

“He has the range,” Tim protests.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you Nolan stan. I’m still a bit hung-up on you saying it’s just ‘okay.’ I mean, sure, it could just be me projecting my own grief about my dead parents onto the story about a dad crossing space and time to get back to his daughter but still!”

That’s the understatement of the century. The scenes between Cooper and an old Murph never fail to make you tear up. Any of the scenes between them, really.

The prolonged silence from Tim tips you off and it’s only when you look at him do you realize your mistake.

His eyes are wide as he looks at you, surprised, with something else.

“Oh, it’s fine—”

“Your parents are—”

You both stop.

You clear your throat, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I… I mean, sorry if it made you uncomfortable, I joke about it sometimes.”

“No,” he says. “It’s okay. It just surprised me. I guess… I don’t want to—I mean—I’m, uh, sorry?”

You shift on the couch, turning more toward him. “It’s okay. It was… well, not that long ago, but—”

You stop, because your instinctive response is ‘I’m over it’ but that’s not totally true, is it? You don’t think you’ll ever be over it. One part of you still feels horribly robbed of them, and some days, their deaths feel so monumental you can barely get through the day, while others, you can function normally for the most part.

“No, I understand,” he says softly. “My parents, too. My mom when I was younger but my dad died when I was sixteen. It’s… not really something you get over, I think. No matter how much time passes.”

A quiet moment between you. It’s not like he’s tried to make you feel ostracized—if anything he’s gone out of his way to make you feel welcomed here, to make sure he and Steph don’t get too caught up on their own and they include you—but… This is a common thread between you and you know he knows and you know he knows you know.

“Yeah… Yeah, exactly.” You pause, glancing at the TV, where the credits are rolling now. “It happened when I was fifteen. The, um, earthquake.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again and you know he means it.

“I’m sorry about yours, too.”

Tim nods, the look on his face still soft, still gentle, then he glances back at the TV.

“I was kidding, you know,” he says next. “It, uh, really was good. Better than I thought it would be. Scientific inaccuracy aside…”

“It’s good,” you press, ignoring the last comment. “And I don’t think it was trying to fool anyone into scientific accuracy.”

“Also true. I just…”

“Wasn’t expecting it to hit that hard?” you guess, smiling. “Yeah, I get it. Cried like a baby when I first saw it. You’re stronger than me for getting through it dry-eyed.”

“Oh, I’m just waiting for later,” he says. “Saving my sorrows for my pillow. That kind of thing.”

You laugh loudly. He smiles.

“It does unearth all the dead parent trauma, though,” he says.

“Oh, tell me about it. Cooper wanting to try to go back home after they find out Dr. Brand never intended to help those on earth…”

“And then having to sacrifice himself to give Brand a chance,” he finishes, shaking his head. “Only for it to turn out well in the end. If only real life was like that.”

A shade too dark for right now but you can’t say you disagree.

The front door opens. Steph slips back inside, raising an eyebrow at you two. Though she hardly means what you think she means, you find yourself inching away from Tim, turning back forward slightly. You’d hate to give her the wrong impression.

And of course, that is not at all what she is thinking about.

“Why do you two look like someone just died?”

“Well, we were just talking about our dead parents, so,” Tim responds without missing a beat.

You burst out laughing. Steph groans.

“I was wrong. You two shouldn’t be friends.”

“It’s too late for that, I think,” Tim says, grinning.

You can’t help but grin, too.

She groans again.

Catwoman is your next vigilante visitor.

All skin-tight latex and a coquettish attitude that makes your face hot.

Luckily, she doesn’t appear to mind. She even pays for her stuff.

(“I was told,” she purrs. “And I don’t much like being told what to do but… you’re cute enough to convince me to go along with it.”

You don’t think the noise you made was human but it amused her enough.)

Alongside that, you have the others who regularly drop by. Your vigilantes, but then, as you pick up a few weekend afternoon shifts (much to Steph’s disapproval), some normal faces, too.

Barbara, a red-haired woman with sharp green eyes who has a stately and intimidating aura to her but is always pleasant when you two chat. Sometimes she has another woman with her, a pretty blond Barbara calls D. Then, that one man, the stocky blonde with the tortoise-shell glasses and a quiet but kind disposition, who eventually introduces himself as Jean-Paul.

You spot him during one of your weekend shifts, waiting his turn as you finish ringing up a harried-looking lady. Another man joins him, a little bit younger, you think, with dark hair and an odd white streak at the front; they’re both dressed in scrubs.

“It’s been a while, Jason.”

“You know how it is, JP. Work doesn’t stop. How’s Leslie?”

“Doing everything at once and somehow managing to pull it off. I’m sure she’d like to see you, if you could find the time.”

“Sure. I’ve got a couple days off from the hospital. I could drop in. Lend a hand.”

A soft chuckle. “If she doesn’t turn you around and tell you to go rest.”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

He coughs. The other man snickers.

Just as the lady leaves, Jean-Paul says, “Let me pay.”

“I won’t say no.”

They both step up to the counter. Jean-Paul gives you a small smile in greeting and seems to decide to forgo your usual small talk—probably because of his new company, which you’re a bit grateful for. The other man—Jason?—nods, eyeing you curiously. Why, you have no idea. But that’s the only thing odd about it. You ring up the coffees without issue and soon, they’re stepping out, Jean-Paul giving you another small smile in goodbye. You return it.

Having regulars like that reminds you of the ones you had in Keystone City. Kind Mr. Garrick, who stopped by about once a month for lottery tickets, his wife typically in tow; they were always kind to you, always a little bit concerned over your wellbeing, whether you were getting enough sleep or eating well. Painfully reminiscent of grandparents you never had.

A little more frequently, there was Linda Park-West, a face you easily recognized from WKEY-TV for the Channel 4 News. She didn’t miss much, always so perceptive, but kind to you, sometimes testing your PR skills as a reporter. She usually stopped by for coffee before work but on occasion, she brought along her kids, Jai and Iris, to let them pick out something for themselves, too. Quite literal balls of energy, they were a handful but always good-intentioned.

You miss them all a lot. More than you thought you would. The Flash, too. Especially these days. What you’d give to talk to him about all this stuff…

But you’ve managed on your own since your parents died. You can keep doing it.

The following week, Tuesday night, you get another new vigilante visitor.

This one?

Robin.

He is, admittedly, a figure you are considerably more scared of. It’s a bit… silly on your part, too, because he is a kid, you think, a teen at least, but, well, teens can be scary. This one certainly is. If only because of his close proximity to the one who scares the most. The one who you are happy not to have visited you thus far and Robin’s appearance… well, you don’t entirely know if it’s a good thing.

But it might be foolish to assume that Batman doesn’t know this is happening.

But then thinking of him knowing you exist makes you horribly anxious, so, you shelve the thought for now and try to focus on the situation.

Which is…

The three dogs in tow collapse in front of the door, panting, tongues lolled out, appearing to enjoy the air-conditioned bliss of the inside of the store. Robin stares at you, his face a blank mask.

“Water?”

“At the back. Far left.”

He nods and turns.

You wait there, uncertain, glancing at the dogs. They look worse for wear, fur dirty and matted, old scars healed over; the sight tugs at your heart, so you step around from the counter, heading to the coffee machine. The store doesn’t carry bowls but the extra-large soda cups are wide enough to work for now.

Robin appears near you, several big bottles of water held in hand. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you and the cups.

“Don’t have any bowls,” you admit. “So, I thought this might work.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Styrofoam. Wasteful. But it’ll do.”

“Yeah, Circle K isn’t breaking barriers in terms of eco-friendliness.”

He says nothing to that, just turns and heads for the dogs. You follow him, not that turned off. You’ve heard rumors about this particular Robin. He does a good job but can be… rough around the edges. Like Bat, like Robin, you guess.

Glancing at the cups, you get an idea, stopping to duck around the counter and grab a pair of scissors. You cup off the top half of each of them, Robin taking them as you go, until all three cups are cut, allowing for the dogs to have better reach.

You join him with the last one, filling it with cold water. Most of the dogs are so heat tired, they only lift their heads to drink, seemingly unable to stand.

You and Robin stay kneeled in front of them, filling the cups when necessary. You gently stroke the head of one nearest to you, smiling as his tail thumps against the tiles.

Robin says nothing else and neither do you. That’s how his time there goes, spent in silence, petting the dogs, letting them cool down and rest.

Eventually, he starts to leave, and you can’t help but ask, “What’s going to happen to them?”

He regards you for a moment and you get the unnerving feeling of being picked apart and analyzed. Still, you hold steady. It’s good practice, you try to tell yourself. One day, you’ll be faced with bloodhounds for journalists and you have to keep it together. Let yourself practice with Robin because if you can pull it off with him, you can do it with anyone.

“The shelters are closed for the night,” he eventually responds. “I will take them somewhere safe, off the streets. Then in the morning, they’ll go there.”

“That’s good. Thanks for doing that. It’s kind of you.”

He pauses, looking back at the dogs, who are rejuvenated by this point, stretching and standing up, tails wagging as they look at you two.

“It’s the right thing to do,” he says at last. “And… thank you, for your help.”

You glance away, picking up the cups. “Sure. No problem.”

A nod and Robin is soon corralling the dogs out of the store, murmuring more gently to them than you would expect, but from this experience, you suspect he has some kind of soft spot for animals. It’s endearing, in a way.

You hope you made a good impression on him, too.

(And if your good impression keeps Batman out a little longer, well, that’s just a lucky coincidence.)

The start of July creeps on you.

There is still achingly little contact between you and Tim. By this point, you haven’t seen him in person for more than a month.

You miss him, in the same way you miss a limb. Scrolling through your social media, whenever you find something funny or that he would like, your knee-jerk reaction is to send it to him. But your conversations on those respective platforms are made up of messages from you and none from him, so you have to stop yourself, because it wouldn’t be worth it. He wouldn’t see it.

Steph tries to preoccupy your time, though her behavior regarding Tim grows increasingly skittish, to the point where you almost think she might know.

She might know that you’re in love with him, him, her ex-boyfriend and first love. The thought brings on the usual amount of soul-crushing guilt and disgust with yourself. How can you do that to her? She’s your best friend. You love her to the ends of the universe and back and… How can you do that to her?

But… something else about it all niggles at you, too. She switches between reassuring you he’ll come around, and dismissing him the other times, saying you ‘don’t need him to have a good time.’ It makes you think they may be having their own issues, too.

The thought is sobering.

You’ve always thought of Steph and Tim as—as insane as it sounds—a pair of bonded kittens. Not exactly getting along all the time but…

You couldn’t separate them. You shouldn’t separate them.

And it feels so wrong for it to be just you two, sometimes. Like you’re missing another piece of the puzzle and it’s noticeable. This empty space between you two that he usually filled. Your group chat, at his insistence, is called the three musketeers. Well, you’re missing your third. Desperately.

“We can rebrand,” Steph says to you one day, the two of you at the mall’s food court. Tim said he was busy. Again.

“No,” you sigh. “That’s not… no. Anyway, Big Belly?”

“I—oh, you have got to be kidding me.” She sounds annoyed, voice sharp.

“What?” you ask, your eyes still on the menu in front of you.

She grabs your arm. “I think we should eat somewhere else.”

You frown at her. “But you said you wanted to get—”

“We can get Big Belly somewhere else. Maybe a little more quiet, you know, it’s kinda crazy in here,” she laughs, though it sounds strained as she tugs you over to the exit.

“Crazy? It’s not that busy—Stephanie!” You yelp as she drags you forward before you can take a look around. “What is going on—”

“It’s just—I think I see Jordanna—”

“Where—”

“Let’s not look! Don’t want her to see you or me, you know how she is, so, let’s get out of here…”

“Well, I—okay—you don’t have to—”

She tugs you all the way through the exit, out into the burning mid-afternoon heat. Humidity swallows you whole, turning your skin tacky, sun bearing down on you full-force. Outside, it smells sharply of gasoline and hot blacktop.

“Honestly, Steph,” you say, shaking your head. “You didn’t need to drag me out like that.”

She gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I just… didn’t want to deal with Jordanna. She’s been really annoying me recently.”

“Has she?” You can’t imagine why Jordanna would even be talking to her since it’s the summer, but to be fair, there isn’t much Jordanna wouldn’t do in the name of annoying her.

“Yup. Just… acting way out of line. So, let’s go somewhere else.”

“Alright, that’s fine. Let’s get out of the heat before you have to scrape me off the pavement.”

“Food’s on me,” she promises, looping her fingers through the belt loops of your jeans, tugging you gently; too hot to hold hands or twine your arms together like usual.

Though the whole thing bothers you a little bit, you are too used to Steph and Tim’s sometimes strange ways. Leaving abruptly, missing scheduled hangouts, a penchant for tardiness. The occasional bruise or cut that they both wave away. The exhaustion that wears them down sometimes.

It’s odd.

But stranger things happen in Gotham, so, you heed their wishes for that stuff to be ignored.

Just like you let this one go, too.

Really. The things you do for them.

Oddities aside, as Tim remains virtually radio silent, you miss him more. Think about him more.

Dream about him more.

“Steph’s going to be late,” is what Tim says as soon as he steps inside your dorm.

You snort. “Of course she is. You’re both terrible at being punctual.”

“I… am less bad at it than she is.”

“Right,” you say, smirking, pointing to your clock. “You’re only twenty minutes late, compared to what her forty minutes to an hour will be.”

Tim grimaces as he shuffles off his shoes by the door, then steps in further. “She said she was showering.”

“So, we have even more time. That’s fine. I wanted to paint my nails.”

In the bathroom you share with your ‘roommate,’ the shower turns on. It’s really just the bathroom you two share. Your small dorm is entirely private. The perks of being a junior.

You go over to your dresser, where your collection of makeup and nail polish is. Above it, your window looks out to the grassy quad, the sky clear of clouds, unusually blue today without the typical smog; the sun shines in, dust motes dancing in the rays.

Tim comes over, too, but he goes for your phone instead, which is connected to your Bluetooth speaker, music playing lowly; he got that for you this past Christmas.

“Gonna play your old people music?”

“Bruce Springsteen is a treasure to this country and, to quote my dad, one of the few good things to ever come out of the state of New Jersey.”

You laugh. The song changes. The upbeat notes of Hungry Heart start. You’ve heard this one more than a couple times since meeting him. It’s not so bad.

You fiddle with the bottles of nail polishes. Tim sets your phone down and leans over, dropping his chin to your shoulder as he watches you, humming quietly under his breath.

The contact makes your heart skip a beat, tendrils of his cologne wrapping around you, the heat of his body palpable through your thin t-shirt. It’s a contradicting sensation, with the AC working hard to beat the May heat that’s settled in. Maybe too hard, as your fingers are a little bit cold. You warm up quickly with Tim so close to you, your heart thudding in your ears. You desperately hope he can’t feel the heat that expands in your face.

That’s a more recent development. One you hate looking too closely at, for fear of what it means.

(You do know what it means. You’re just still in denial. Because admitting it means you have feelings for your best friend’s ex-boyfriend. For your best friend.)

You keep fiddling, not sure which color to pick. Tim huffs softly, reaching past you, picking out a bottle of wine red nail polish.

“Fine. But you have to help,” you say, taking it from him, then grabbing another bottle for the top coat.

“Don’t I always?”

You just nudge him back, stepping away from the dresser and taking a seat on the floor. The floor is hard, polished concrete; not pleasant to sit on or walk on, so you’ve invested in several cushioned rugs to cover as much as you can.

Tim grabs a Zesti from your mini fridge, then joins you as you set to painting the nails of your left hand. This one is easier since you’re using your dominant hand and you manage to paint your nails without catching any of the skin around them.

The shower in your bathroom hums underneath the sound of the song as you finish your left hand. The first coat, anyway. Tim passes his Zesti to you, wipes a hand on his jeans to get rid of the condensation, then takes the bottle of nail polish.

You sip the soda, extending your right hand to him. He carefully balances the bottle on the rug and sets to painting your nails.

Like with most things he does, Tim dedicates himself to his task wholeheartedly, cornflower blue eyes trained on your hand, tongue poking out in concentration. The sight makes your heart skip a beat. Warmth unspools in your chest like cotton candy.

Sunlight pours in from the window above the dresser, bathing him in warm, golden rays; it makes the shade of his dark hair warmer, the blue of his t-shirt, too, softening the pale of his skin.

“So… how was that date?”

The question jars you. You avert your eyes.

Ah. The date you agreed to go on with a guy in your communications class in an attempt to… you don’t know. Distract yourself from Tim? Try to find someone else to latch onto? All… not so great reasons, you know, but needs must.

Not like it worked out, anyway…

“Terrible.”

He stiffens, pausing in his work to look at you, eyes narrowing, and you send him a small smile, privately pleased—though you shouldn’t be—at seeing him get all protective. You can take care of yourself and he knows that, too, but… one can appreciate having a cute guy be like that for you. Within reason, anyway.

“He didn’t do anything, Timmy, relax. He was just… well, seemed nice initially. But when we got to the restaurant, he was horrible to the waitress. I already wasn’t feeling it, but after that, no way. So.”

He glances away, thumb rubbing idly at the back of your hand from where he cradles it in his. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t a good idea.”

“To go with him or—” he clears his throat, turning back to his work “—dating in general?”

“I don’t know. He just wasn’t what I was looking for.”

“What are you looking for?”

You, you want to say, but don’t.

Frightening to realize, really, that the answer to that question is immediate, as sure as the day.

It’s Tim.

Always Tim.

But you’ve never felt this way for someone. This strongly, like you want so much, you could never be satisfied.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, watching the brush of the handle glide over your nail in easy, practiced sweeps. “Does anyone?”

“I guess not,” he concedes softly. “But still. I hope you can find it.”

The song changes. Something calmer, with the strum of the guitar. Familiar croons of I'm On Fire.

I have found it, you want to say. It’s you. It’s this. Right here, right now.

But just because you found it doesn’t mean it’s yours.

“Do you?” you find yourself asking because apparently you’re feeling extra masochistic today. “Know what you’re looking for, I mean.”

Steph sometimes teases him. Tries to point out nice boys and girls he might like. You used to play along. You don’t so much these days.

He would always wave it off, anyway. Just shake his head and change the subject. He has dated before. Obviously. Someone as gorgeous as him… all of Gotham wants a piece of him. You do, too. Well. You want all of him. Which is another thing you are just now realizing. But anyway, since you’ve known him, he hasn’t dated anyone. He used to date a boy—Bernard? Steph said he was a character—from one of his old high schools but that didn’t work out. And now he still has the occasional date, but it never pans out. He says they just aren’t compatible.

Makes you curious.

You’d never match up to it, you know, but you want to know, anyway.

Tim looks up, his eyes slowly scanning your face. This close, with the sunlight, you can see the shadows his lashes cast on his cheeks, the flecks of silver in his eyes, like mercury, the odd scars, too, that he excuses behind clumsiness as a child. Everything inside you squeezes.

“I guess you can say that,” he eventually says, voice soft.

The words hurt, but distantly, like it’s all far away from you. You’re too caught up here, now, close enough to smell his cologne.

Tension thickens the air between you. It’s unfamiliar, unknown, but not unwelcome with how your stomach swoops like you missed a step, heart pounding in your ears.

Tim looks… contemplative. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the movement of him biting his lip, teeth sinking into plush pink, and the urge to soothe away the indents with your own lips is fearsome, monumental, like a hurricane.

His fingers tighten on your hand. You want to get swept away in this moment, no matter the consequences. It’s a dangerous kind of feeling you aren’t used to.

But the shower abruptly shuts off in the bathroom, plunging the room back into silence with the strum of the guitar and the croon of the song as it ends. The moment is broken.

Tim clears his throat and returns to his work.

Neither of you say anything.

Too much for you to want.

Too much you cannot have.

Too complicated.

reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @peachesona @knoxx-seresinbradshaw @kikis-writing-service @sweetistic @soundsfunbutno @ginevraxrogers @fridaenpina @skcj24 @bath1lda @omfg-its-tay @laughydaphne @fhrjrirj @iamthesimpmother @alittlelateforstars @thaliadoesthings @scarlett13 @zelabee @coffee-love-alltheabove @benstormy @sad-girl09 @lockofspades @thereallchristine

[ask to be tagged! either here or my inbox! ^_^]

#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #dc comics imagine #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x you #red robin x you #red robin x y/n #batfam x you #batfam x y/n

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feministsouthpark · 5 months ago

Text

South Park Filler Guide - Season 12

Link for Seasons 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

You know the drill by now, I’ll judge whether an episode has all the qualities of a canon one, or is it just shameless filler. S12E1 Tonsil Trouble is CANON

Strong canon for Eric giving Kyle AIDS, somehow the one thing still on Kyle's mind even 40 years later.

S12E2 Britney's New Look is FILLER

The references are dated, its message is timeless, the events are purely filler. I have a question though, why isn't Kenny here? Butters takes his place for the episode, is this some lost season 6 episode? S12E3 Major Boobage is FILLER

Eric learns about jew experience, not that it lasts. I'll be writing that sentence again a lot, won't I? S12E4 Canada on Strike is FILLER

Kyle says something about the internet that was accurate in 2008. Terrance and Phillip get major roles, and you know how I feeller about that. I have a question though, why isn't Kenny here? Butters takes his place for the episode, is this some lost season 6 episode? S12E5 Eek, A Penis! is CANON

Janet has a permanent sex change. I'm happy to include Cartminez who is the most positive portrayal of the Eric character you'll get in the canon-only viewing experience. S12E6 Over Logging is FILLER

The internet gets unplugged and then replugged. Kenny still doesn't get dialog. S12E7 Super Fun Time is FILLER

Yes, Kenny gets a tiny role in this one, but Butters takes the major plot, it really seems like Trey and Matt enjoy the 3 boys with Butters dynamic a lot more than the 3 boys with Kenny dynamic. The only Kenny episode so far had him on a saparate plot from the others. Stan and Wendy get some nice relationship content, however other than that, this one doesn't build the lore. S12E8 The China Problem is CANON

The Free Hat episode did pretty much everything this episode did, except the random chinese storyline. However a reference later made sure I have to include this one. S12E9 Breast Cancer Show Ever is CANON

We get an update on a few things. Goth kids are still friends with Stan. Check. Stan and Eric friendship explored along with Wendy and Stan relationship (since we skipped Super Fun Time anyway), Eric and Wendy are established as rivals for later episodes, and Principal Victoria gets backstory. S12E10 Pandemic is CANON

It gives Craig proper characterization, but if you gave him your attention, you already know him. Basically an early season-type four boys adventure with him included. This is the episode that references to The China Problem, and would you believe it, we include this one also just for another throwback line. Also the title works here a lot better than in season 24. S12E11 Pandemic 2: The Startling is CANON

More of the same, but with Randy horror side plot. S12E12 About Last Night... is LORE

For the story of how Barack Obama became president, something not closely connected with the main storylines, but world-building nonetheless. S12E13 Elementary School Musical is CANON

This is the episode that references to The China Problem, and we include this one for introducing mainstay character Scott Malkinson. S12E14 The Ungroundable is CANON

For introducing the Vampire kids. With this season we got a lot of canon-by-technicality territory, wonder if it keeps happening?

SPOILER-FREE RUNDOWN

Again, CANON means you should watch it, FILLER means you can skip it, LORE is somewhere in-between, any episode with the LORE label will have an explanation that helps you decide if you should include it or not. S12E1 Tonsil Trouble is CANON S12E2 Britney's New Look is FILLER S12E3 Major Boobage is FILLER S12E4 Canada on Strike is FILLER S12E5 Eek, A Penis! is CANON S12E6 Over Logging is FILLER S12E7 Super Fun Time is FILLER S12E8 The China Problem is CANON S12E9 Breast Cancer Show Ever is CANON S12E10 Pandemic is CANON S12E11 Pandemic 2: The Startling is CANON S12E12 About Last Night... is LORE* S12E13 Elementary School Musical is CANON S12E14 The Ungroundable is CANON *In-series explanation of how Barack became president.

CANON counter:

S1: 9 out of 13 S2: 3 out of 18 S3: 6 out of 18 S4: 10 out of 17 S5: 8 out of 14 S6: 11 out of 17 S7: 6 out of 15 S8: 4 out of 14 S9: 8 out of 14 S10: 4 out of 14 S11: 4 out of 14 S12: 8 out of 14

Overall: 81 out of 182

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hellishdeer · 10 months ago

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Live reactions and ramblings about the the first four episodes of Hazbin Hotel

Warnings: SPOILERS!!! Incoherent, unfiltered thoughts, I wrote them as I was watching. Most of them are in chronological order, but not all

EPISODE 1:

The origin story of Hell is a cool take on the original tale of Adam and Eve and the animation style is very pretty too (also biblically accurate angels 👀)

Adam is just the ultimate douche, fucking great

NIFTY ZONING OUT WHILE SHE IS BEING FILMED, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT-

Really interesting and fun that Alastor straight up REFUSES to be captured in digital media, distorting it and facing the other way during the commercial

EPISODE 2:

SIR PENTIOUS!!!!

Loved whenever Vox got real close to the screen, it looked like your TV was his face, adored that shit 👌Also the way his voice distorted whenever he was pissed

Alastor went missing around the same time as Lilith... I'm sure that is not going to be at all plot relevant..

STAYED GONE. Vox's part sung/spoken like a TV news anchor, Alastor breaking the fourth wall, the varieties of error screens Vox displayed, and THE BLACKOUT. THAT PART GAVE ME SERIOUS CHILLS Love you Alastor but you're scaring me a little

SIR PENTIOUS PLAYING ALONG WITH CHARLIE AND ACTUALLY ENJOYING HIMSELF AT THE HOTEL I'M SOBBING

"You like me. You actually like me!" 😭❤️

The voice messages Valentino sent were fucking vile, fuck him. I'm now rooting for Angel Dust more than ever before..

Sir Pentious finally has canon hypnosis powers!!

Vox, you're cool and all BUT YOU JUST TOLD SIR PENTIOUS TO KILL HIMSELF WHAT THE FUCK NEVER GO NEAR HIM EVER AGAIN OR I SWEAR-

"Just make it quick, I guess. Not that I deserve it.." VIOLENTLY ILL.

SORRY IS WHERE IT STARTS. Just.. *sobs* Charlie is so fucking sweet, I can't wait for their friendship to grow

EPISODE 3:

"Hello purple female!" PLEASE 💀

The scene where Alastor was eating is a reference o to one Viv's older speedpaints (more specifically this one)

"Are those your ears or your hair? I can't tell!" Egg Bois asking the real questions here-

ZESTIEL. He looks so cool and I love the way he speaks, hopefully were going to see more of him!

"Oh, look! There's Frank!" "...We have names?" PFFFTT-

"If I can't help you, what's the point of me?" 😭😭😭

CARMILLA'S SINGING VOICE BLEW ME AWAY HOLY SHIT-

Vaggie's singing voice being hilariously different to her speaking one

Carmilla implying in her song that she killed the angel to protect her daughters I-😭 That, and she doesn't want the rest of hell to start a war they can't win, she is a protector. She's definitely one of my new favorites.

As Zestiel said, Alastor is unpredictable and his motivations are hard to read, I love how he is written in a way you geniunely can't guess his real motivations you go you sinister deer fellow

SIR PENTIOUS AND HIS MATCHING PYJAMAS WITH THE EGG BOIS AND ALL OF THE SNUGGLING TOGETHER IN HIS COZY ROUND BED- *starts to froth at the mouth*

EPISODE 4:

Nifty just laying there kicking her feet while watching p*rn 😭

SIR PENTIOUS BLUSHING AND COVERING HIS FACE WITH HIS HOOD PLEASE-

Is Pentious seriously so lonely that he watches people sleep...stop making me sad

Angel Dust having the most fire wardrobe 💅

TRAVIS IS THE FUCKING DIRECTOR-

Angel Dust's face when he heard Valentino speaking :(

VALENTINO GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF CHARLIE RIGHT NOW.

VALENTINO'S COAT IS ACTUALLY HIS WINGS?!?! That's a very cool design actually

THE DRESSING ROOM IS FUCKING DISGUSTING, IT'S FINE IF YOU LIKE VALENTINO AS A VILLIAN, BUT IF YOU ACTUALLY STAN HIM AFTER THIS I SWEAR-

The contract being signed as "Anthony" :(((

"I'll get her to leave, just don't hurt her." *cries*

Charlie being ready kick Valentinos ass the SECOND she saw Angel's state LET'S GOOOO

Poison is just.. So beautifully animated, but so very disturbing at the same time.. FUCK. VALENTINO.

THE DOTS UNDER ANGEL'S EYES WERE JUST MORE EYES THIS ENTIRE TIME?!? I'm such a dumbass

Throwing cards as a weapon :O

HUSK USED TO BE AN OVERLORD EXCUSE ME?!?!

"If I get broken enough.. I won't be his favorite toy anymore.. And he'll let me go.." CRYING SOBBING THROWING UP

You're a Loser Baby is fucking pretty and adorable! I finally I see the appeal in Huskerdust 🥹❤️

EXPLODING DICE WOOO!

Just now realized Alastor didn't show up once during this episode.. Wonder what he getting up to 🤔

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #alastor #angel dust #sir pentious #charlie morningstar #vaggie #nifty #husk #hazbin hotel vox #valentino #carmilla carmine #reaction

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sobbingstars · 3 months ago

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SEASON 4 UMBRELLA ACADEMY SPOILERS!!!

Hi! WHAT THE FUCK! My hot takes on this latest season bc if I don’t say these I’m gonna go insane.

Luthor: becoming a dancer was really funny. It was also kinda nice bc he was so ashamed of his body b4 when he was part monkey, so it’s good to see him being more comfortable in his own skin. And speaking of him being part monkey, that had NOTHING TO DO WITH HIS POWERS. His powers are SUPER STRENGTH, his father INJECTED HIM WITH MONKEY DNA OR SMT TO SAVE HIS LIFE. Made NO SENSE!

Diego: Diego being an absent/emotionally neglectful/bad father made NO SENSE! We saw him with Stan, he learned to be a father. Plus, he had his own issues with his dad, of course he would mentally do everything he could to avoid being his father. And also, him and Lila being in an unhappy marriage was so weird. Like, man was literally obsessed w/ her in season 3. What???

Alison: So we decided to not address any of her wrongs and just forgive her. She ASSAULTED LUTHOR. She tried to KILL VICTOR. SHE KILLED HARLAN. SHR TEAMED UP WITH REGGIE. Nothing??? Just forgive her for reasons??? That being said, Claire bear you were STUNNING thank you for being here and thank you Millie Davis, you were my childhood. But also, girl??? Show some support for your uncle. He needs help sometimes, just bc he’s immortal doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings :(

Klaus: I actually think they didn’t go super wrong with Klaus. Him becoming super paranoid after losing his powers made sense bc he died like every other day and just didn’t notice bc he just kept coming back, so I’d be afraid of everything too. And I think him being scared to have his powers again bc he was afraid he’d relapse is honestly so in character. That being said, fake that he didn’t even consider talking to Dave once he was sober and had his powers and wasn’t actively trying to stop the end of the world. And yall don’t even know how upset I was when he started levitating with his SHOES ON. NOT COMIC ACCURATE.

Five: WORDS DONT DESCRIBE MY RAGE. BECOMING A CIA AGENT? WHEN THE WORLD WASN’T ACTIVELY ENDING AND HE COULD JUST RETIRE? YOU KNOW AT LEAST ON OF HIS SIBLINGS WOULD LET HIM STAY. AND FALLING IN LOVE WITH LILA?? IT MADE NO SENSE, WAS SO OUT OF CHARACTER EHRN HE LITERALLY WAS LIKE ‘Lila would be stupid to throw away her happy life’ AND PROCEEDED TO WRECK HER HAPPY LIFE? I GET THAT IT WAS SEVEN YEARS BUT GOD DAMN FIVE, YOU WERE MARRIED TO DOLORES FOR THIRTY! AND THEY DIDNT EVEN BRING HER UP! NOT ONCE! AND JUST GIVING UP AND LETTING THE WORLD END? FOR FUNSIES? ABANDONING HIS FAMILY? NOT GIVING TWO SHITS? MAN ENDED THE WORLD THREE TIMES TRYING TO SAVE HIS FAMILY! HIS FAMILY IS ONE OF THE ONLY THINGS HE CARES ABT AND HE WOULD NEVER EVEN CONSIDER GOING AFTER HIS BROTHERS WIFE! Five Hargreeves, they could never make me hate you, but what the FUCK!

Ben: So unrealistic that he didn’t break down any his siblings all being dead once. We deserved a heart between him and Five where Ben was like ‘All my family is dead’ and Fives like ‘I know how that feels’ bc his siblings were dead for 40+ years. Instead, he just had no character development at all and just died bc of a girl he met once. The only reason I was a little sad when he died was bc of season one and two Ben who was so sweet and amazing and season three Ben who just wanted to be loved and accepted. They didn’t even have any relationship development between him and Jennifer.

Victor: I’m sorry, he owns a BAR and was an awful boyfriend?? WHAT!? I was hoping we were gonna have this emotional scene where he plays the Violin again bc he hasn’t played it since he ENDED THE WORLD in season one, and he would be happy bc Violin was a genuine passion of his and he was gonna no longer be afraid. And being a bad boyfriend?? Unrealistic, he was so kind and good with kids??? Are you kidding??? That being said I really liked when he stood up to Reggie. That was rlly funny.

Lila: Yall know what I’m gonna say. You just KNOW. I GET that transitioning from full time assassin to full time mom would be a hard switch but you’re telling me she WOULDN’T have ANY sort of job? NONE??? With all her family being back in her life? She’d just sit in the house? And she wouldn’t sit in the house and be unhappy. She would absolutely call Diego out on his shit and complaining problem and he’d be like ‘Yes ma’am.’ Bc their relationship was so fun in season two and three and then they made it into a no-fun, unhappy marriage, and Lila just had so little of her original personality. And her liking Five was so weird. She sees him as a KID. He LOOKS like a kid. Made no sense.

Reggie: Actually wasn’t a total ass this season. Got into a malewife/girlboss relationship. Managed to actually have feelings. That being said, why how the fuck was he an ALIEN IN SEASON TWO??? I get that his wife was the one with the weird power things, but they just??? Never explained it??? What was going on??? I was so confused this ENTIRE SEASON.

#luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #alison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #victor hargreeves #fuck reginald hargreeves #reginald hargreeves #lila pitts #umbrella academy #season 4 umbrella academy

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jaskierx · 1 year ago

Note

[CW for discussion of severe mental illness (PTSD) and suicide]

I want to add my perspective to the conversation about canyon people picking and choosing which disability rep is worth telling. It’s really offensive to me because I’m mentally disabled so it feels like these people are glossing over the mental illness rep in the show.

I hesitate because i do not want to seem like I’m chastising people for acknowledging the physical disability rep. OFMD has better physical disability rep than any show I’ve seen, while I’ve seen many shows with mentally ill characters. I also do not want to give credit where credit is not due, because ultimately these characters don’t have any diagnosed mental disabilities. However, I don’t think that that subtracts from the representation because 1)the show obviously takes place before many mental health diagnoses that we have now did,2) even if those diagnoses did exist, the crew would not be able to access them, and 3) I think the show is clearly trying to tell us that characters are suffering from PTSD, or at the very least struggling to process a traumatic event, they just don’t have the words to describe it as such.

Many characters exhibit what would today be classified as symptoms of a psychiatric disorder. In this fandom we often joke about that, especially Ed’s (which is more than okay), but I also want to appreciate the way that season 2 deals with the trauma of the kraken era. They freak out and have flashbacks over blindfolds and birthday cakes because of what they’ve been through. They have interpersonal conflicts due to differing ways of processing the trauma and not seeing eye to eye on each others own unique experience (Lucius and Pete come to mind). Lucius takes up smoking to cope with the pain. Ed dissociates (I think, because he doesn’t remember wanting to have a talent show) and is literally suicidal, first passively (“you mean curl up into a ball and die?”) and then actively (the whole storm thing). He also turns to using drugs to self medicate.

Anyway sorry for the novel I just wanted to add my perspective because this show means a lot to me as someone who’s mentally disabled and I want to know if anyone else with a mental disability feels the same/differently.

no don't apologise this is a really good point!

i've posted about it a few times and so has glam and several other people whose links i don't have to hand but the depiction of ed's mental illness and his suicidality is fucking spot on and the show absolutely deserves all the praise it gets for that

especially because it's quite possibly the first show i've ever seen that depicts suicidality in a way that manages to be accurate without being pitying and manages to be hopeful without romanticising the issue. the show brings ed to his lowest point and then shows him being helped to come back from that by people who love him. it tells us that there's always a way for things to get better and that you can get there by yourself but it's easier if you have help, and it tells us that this help is available because there is always going to be someone waiting for you even if you doubt that. it never shows ed as 'cured'. it never shows stede being angry with ed for his symptoms. when lucius suggests that ed might just be 'broken', stede very quickly shuts him down and the show makes it clear that the narrative is on stede's side here.

and all of this just doesn't get brought up by izzy stans. discussion of mental illness portrayal tends to be one of the following:

ignoring ed's arc altogether to focus on izzy's suicide attempt and his 'i want to go' line while he's on his deathbed (and in a massively different place to where he was in s2e2) and using this to pretend that the show's message is 'disabled queer people deserve to die' (yes unfortunately this is a take i have seen with my own two eyes)

writing ed's arc off as an example of 'magic dick' and using this to pretend that he was fine as soon as he got stede back

ignoring ed's arc completely and instead insisting that he's a violent serial killer and abuser with anger issues who traumatised the crew and will inevitably physically abuse stede and kill all their inn's customers

ignoring all portrayals of mental illness completely because they will deliberately downplay the disability of every other disabled character in order to centre izzy

the canyon will bend over backwards to centre izzy and to view the entire show through a lens where he is their longsuffering protagonist who can do no wrong and it's led them to ignore so much of what makes the show great

#sorry i wrote you a novel in return lmao #asks #anon #the izcourse #fandom critical #cw suicide #cw suicidal ideation #lyse.jpg

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st4rb3rries · 1 year ago

Note

hiii love your writing ❤️ !! can I request hcs of the main 4’s music tastes? + maybe who’s likely to do things like make a playlist for someone?

SOUTH PARK'S MAIN 4 MUSIC TASTES ♫꒰･◡･๑꒱

pairings; none!

summary; music taste hc's that i thought of

warnings; slight cussing, kanye west

a/n; HIII AND TYYY THIS WAS FUN TO WRITE HOPE U LIKE IT:3 i tried my best sorrry if this isn't accurate!!!

STAN MARSH

first off stan would most likely make a dedicated playlist for both of you guys!! i hc that he listens to current joys, radiohead, weezer, and the weeknd. maybe even some tv girl and childish gambino!! HE ALSO LISTENS TO ALSO SWEET TRIP!!! his music taste is a mix of sad indie and maybe r&b. he definitely listens to the weeknd when he's practicing his rizz. (just like me fr) you introduced him into childish gambino and the weeknd and bro was in another dimension. he hasn't stopped listening to them since. here's an idea of y'alls playlist ↴ (obviously there's more songs)

NOW PLAYING: CRYING WITH RIZZ PLAYLIST

◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

kids - current joys 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 4:29

me and your mama - childish gambino 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 6:19

i just threw up the love of my dreams - weezer 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 2:37

song about me - tv girl 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 4:03

how to disappear completely - radiohead 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 5:56

the hills - the weekend 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 4:03

acting - sweet trip 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 7:05

KYLE BROVFLOSKI

yes he would make a playlist for you. this time this playlist is songs that remind him of you. it's a secret playlist that no one knows but him. (he's totally not in love with you) kyle listens to steve lacy, the smiths, and the cure. ok maybe even some tyler the creator?? i totally feel like he vibes with tyler's flower boy album. he also listens to tame impala and pet shop boys for sure. basically stans music taste but in a different font. i guess this is called indie pop with a mix of 80s-90s music. his playlist for you ↴

NOW PLAYING: SONGS THAT REMIND ME OF Y/N :))

◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

uuuu - steve lacy 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 1:30

there is light that never goes out - the smiths 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 4:04

why can't i be you - the cure 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 3:14

awkward - tyler the creator 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

music to walk home by - tame impala 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 5:12

friday im in love- pet shop boys 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 3:34

KENNY MCORMICK

i think kenny listens to bimbo girly pop songs asf. like he's all man outside in but in the inside he has the mentality of a dumb bimbo $lut🤭. he definitely makes a playlist for the both of you. the playlist's name is called pu$$y poppin songs. like kenny be so fr 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄. KENNY LISTENS TO 3OH!3 LIKE YESSSS BROO. he also listens to ayesha erotica and millionaires. HELPPP MAYBE EVEN AZEALIA BANKS😭. kenny also listens to yung gravy AND KESHA FOR SUREEEE ALSO ICP. your playlist that he made for y'all ↴

NOW PLAYING: PU$$Y POPPIN SONGS

◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

donttrustme - 3OH!3 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 3:12

big juicy - ayesha erotica 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 3:26

hey rich boy hey - millionaires 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 2:48

212 - azealia banks 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 3:25

oops! - yung gravy 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 2:20

blah blah blah - kesha, 3OH!3 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 2:52

in my room - insane clown posse 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 3:51

ERIC CARTMAN

CARTMAN LISTENS TO KANYE WEST. we all know why he listens to kanye west..... he secretly listens to pop music. like britany spears, lady gaga, and lowkey marina. ooo and also gwen stefani. he probaly also listens to eminem. also stop guys cause you know damn well he listens to 6ix9ine💀. bro does not make a playlist for you. you ask him to make one and he says, "no tf that's gay as shit." like ok buddy just say that you don't wanna share out your music taste. you beg him so many times and he still says no. he has his own playlist. only for him that's it. his own playlist ↴

NOW PLAYING: MY PLAYLIST IS BETTER THAN KYLES

◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

can't tell me nothing - kanye west 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 4:31

toxic - britany spears 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 3:18

poker face - lady gaga 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 3:57

ancient dreams in a modern land - marina 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 3:26

gwen stefani - rich girl 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 3:56

without me - eminem 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 4:50

trollz - 6ix9ine, nickii minaj 0:00 ───ㅇ───── 3:22

#south park x reader #south park #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #eric cartman #south park hcs #stan marsh x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #eric cartman x reader

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mowbrayvongothe · 2 months ago

Text

Late live episode due to me panic baking!

The Magnus Protocol - 29 Keyed in spoilers below.

Oh Sam is alive that’s nice poor Celia for tripping over her.

Samama “it was a Bentley” Khalid.

It was searching for something? It wanted information about the Institute.

Do you think that ERROR was what the old man was creating?

God this is traumatising for Sam.

Celia I need you so bad you don’t understand.

Ah the ladies are arguing love that.

CHESTER. FUCK.

missing Norris

Hm Homicide. Wonder what that’s about

Currently sat on the floor behind the door to really create the desperate atmosphere ( art shit is all over my bed)

Yeah how does this turn into a homicide sweetheart?

Oh they’re old and inlove. How is there murder.

The music. Oh nice new words

“Odemknout své srdce”

Sigh this is a code isn’t it.

DID SHE KILL HIM.

The key to the lock?

Nevermind lock gone.

“Unlock your heart” I see.

Hm Chester so much passion and character in Open. This is a damn journal.

Ah the wooden door has the key.

My brownies are nearly ready damn.

Lock room? It’s the lock museum why am I confused.

Strange -> Simple.

Aha. Why is there the noise of moving a locked handle ahaha what.

Sharp lock with blood nice

Their lock was in the Lock Museum. And the simple one was bloody. Hm

Picked up the lock and then obviously everything went to hell.

Oh so they translated it.

Oh so to get out is to kill the other.

‘Unlock your heart’ meaning to kill your loved one to escape.

Oh so he just died from slipping.

Oh!

No he begged for help.

The fear here was their death. And using their love to seal both their fates. Nothing really to guess.

The key unlocks anything after they sacrificed their love. She believes it can remove her grief.

FUCK

Brownies are ready :3

Oh Chester is losing the Jon-ness

When she killed Stanley her love for him left as she unlocked her love. Sweet

ALICEEEEEEEEE MY LOVE

TEDDY OH MY GODDD TEDDYDYYYYYYYY

Worm?

His new job???

What is it???

ALICE DYER YOU AAAAAAAA

Oh Sam

For fucks sake Sam

Alice dyer the woman you are

Teddy yk we love you dearly

ALICE DYER THE WOMAN YOU ARE

ALICE

“I can’t let you pass without a ticket :|”

ALICE

ALICE MY LOVE

Alice what’s going on

Alice dyer

ALICE

WHAT THE FUCK

WHATS

ERROR DID YOU NOT PAU FOR A TICKET WHAT THE FUCK

ERROR. oh that’s it’s. NICE!

Well time to get my burning brownies

Hm.

So those were some episodes

My brownies didn’t burn they were still gooey after 30 minutes in the oven which is nice (not)

So Sam passed out the prior episode and survived which we all can yippie at that. Passing out and having no control of your body is very traumatising and for Sam to instantly panic and decide that dealing with ERROR was his priority is. Concerning. But god he is going to do the exact same thing as Jonathan. Celia not wanting for him to go alone but while also hating the idea of even entertaining ERROR at all seems like an accurate response. I feel like people experiencing the horrors together feels more relevant in this rather than TMA but still all the inescapable horrors happen alone anyways. I had something i was meant to add one but ill mention it in another post

The case the case the case. Chester read it thanks Jonathan for that. Two old lovers went to their most important place of travel where Stan proposed and they had locked their love on the bridge. They then went into a ‘Lock Museum’ and gained an ivory key and looked at all the locks there. A saying was found Unlock your love which referenced the act of killing your lover and setting your love for them go to escape. We can assume she didn’t love him after escaping as she said she “wouldn’t miss him”. Nothing too alchemy themed here really and it was just a case about two lovers who had to sacrifice the other to escape the horrors oh it’s Jmart again of fucking course. No words after that fuck you Chester. Bring back Norris 2024.

Alice my love you care so so much you have such a big heart and you’re such a little shit. Nothing wrong with Alice truly. Alice seems slightly bitter about Sam’s new adventures in the OIAR, enough to express it to Teddy who HAS MYSTERIES OF HIS OWN???? What’s up with his new job is it like tha Magnus institute from the hit podcast The Magnus Archives????? Whats that about Teddy boy what’s going on. But realistically I’m assuming he’s having trouble keeping a job after leaving the OIAR. I wonder if it has to do with the horrors that lurk. Maybe he’s having troubles in his jobs so he has to turn to the OIAR? Would make sense. Also Dammit Alice truly cares she heard Sam was going on that train and decided to really leave her lovely pint. and last but not least ERROR IS ON THE TRAIN????????? Either a) Error paid a very, very expensive ticket. Or b) jumped the metro like a boss. Either way, way to go Error way to go.

Now after an hour of listening taking a break and screaming online my brownies are still NOT DONE!!!!!!

#the magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #tmagp #the Magnus protocol live listen

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waitmyturtles · 2 years ago

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Well — I can’t believe it’s over. Moonlight Chicken was… I’ll get the words for it. Satisfying is the first one that comes to mind. And MC was my first beginning-to-end fandom on Tumblr. The big brains, the META, the psychological and cultural analyses! I’m a peon in a sea of passionate geniuses here. I love this community so much.

Where do we start. Moonlight Chicken, episode 8/finale thoughts and impressions. As usual, quick hits first, then the big thinks.

1) So much wonderful fan service. And I know that fan service can often take a show out, and when fan service is included in a script, I’m sure that at times, it makes directors and screenwriters grit their teeth. But I’m REALLY THANKFUL for all the fan service with all the couples, and yes, I’m including First and Khao here, because — come awn, the way these two almost OVERACTED their relaxedness at the bank and the food truck at the end, I was giggle-crying. Had we seen Alan smile any bigger at any other point in the show than at the food truck? THE SWAPPING OF THE CHAT IDs? THOSE CUTE LOOKS? KHAO’S little head shakes? THE TURN AFTER RECEIVING THAT MYSTERY CHAT? THANK YOU, AOFFFFF, thank yoooouuuu! Thank you for knowing exactly what you were doing for us and our ships, ha.

A dear anon recommended My School President to me, and I’m gonna definitely watch it, because I’m officially a GemFourth stan. More on this later, but I absolutely adored that their storyline took up a huge chunk of screentime. Besides the storyline interweaving beautifully with the major theme arcs of this last episode, their chemistry just could not be better. It’s been well documented how Fourth has been EATING his role, but Gemini, too! The TEXTS! The knowing looks! How much Gemini is able to communicate just by looking at Fourth. SO SATISFYING AND FULFILLING, GAAAHH.

And, and, and — forgive me for being sentimental. Because I’m still so new to this wonderful world of Aof’s work and Thai BLs, I didn’t have to wait as long as so many of y’all in the family for Earth and Mix to reunite in such a good script. But I was still feeling the nostalgia early in the series at seeing these two together, and I felt it so strongly in this episode. Jim FINALLY breaking out of his shell. Calling Wen his boyfriend. Leaning in to make a move (on the wonderful couch). Holding Wen’s hand and squeezing it in response to Wen. Gah. Too great.

Just, like….. how are these GMMTV couples SO GOOD? HOW ARE THEY SO GOOD TOGETHER? (Yes, not quite accurate to call AlanGaipa a couple, but shhhhh.) Anyway, sighs of happiness.

2) LENG. Gossipy. Luv u. Sneaky b.

3) I know we kinda despise her (and by “we,” I mean all of my inner children who want to grab these guilt-stricken, “what do I do nowwwww” whine-whine parents by the throat), but umm, Jam’s a 10! She cute! I liked her mall outfit, I cannot lie.

Jam came full circle. She admits to her shit. She figures out how to come thru in the most sensible way she can. I’ll offer more thoughts in a bit, but I’m actually a little glad that we didn’t get the rage scene that I so WANTED to see in episode 7. She’s ready to pony up for school. That’s the best way she can help, and I’m glad she was written as figuring that out.

What did I see happen to Jam? She leaned into the kind of parenting and family building that she could manage at this point in her life. What she was CAPABLE of, she did. She created a family table for ALL her family. To show that kind of blended family, eating all together, at peace, with a small child in their presence…. to have created a warm environment where Jim could finally, comfortably come out without judgement. She replicated the same table that Jim himself had created at his diner. She’s paying her dues back to BOTH her brother AND her son, both of whom she rejected and abandoned.

I have to hand it to Aof. My inner child’s heart is wrecked at this, but I have to hand it to him. He treats bad parents with compassion. ATOTS, Bad Buddy, and now here. He doesn’t blame bad parents for who they ARE — he instead skewers WHERE THEY CAME FROM, the culture from which these styles of parenting are borne. God, Aof. That’s not necessarily emotionally purging for Asian kids traumatized by the unexplored impact of filial piety. But it’s much more of a realistic artistic meditation, a FAIR one. I see what he did with Jam, and I ultimately have to appreciate it, even if I was dying for a rage episode. I appreciate that Aof, as an artist, will not succumb to base emotion simply because it’s the surface feeling. He will always dig and layer what ends up truly working as an emotionally balanced meditation.

4) Big themes. Once again — a return to the balance between old and new cultures and perspectives, and how us oldies get pulled along into the new age. But also, in this episode, we were reminded of what youngsters bring with THEM, from THEIR pasts, into their future.

This episode focused on Jim’s movement and Li Ming’s movement. Oh, my heart. I’ll start with Li Ming.

Li Ming is really a hero of mine — I think what he demonstrates for me is that youthful FEARLESSNESS towards change that we admire youngsters for so much — while us oldie parents are also worried about them, we fear for them, because we know that there are potholes and pitfalls when change can happen quickly and blindingly.

I think that's what Jim was referring to when he says to Jam that Li Ming helped him (Jim) find his maturity. That was at the core of the night talk that took place in episode 7. I think Jim saw, in Li Ming, what Jim *needed* to see in Li Ming to trust Li Ming with Li Ming's own growth. Jim needed to see that Li Ming could consider his options, and be more emotionally sophisticated and aware than Jim ever has been.

And, I think -- that helped Jim TRUST Li Ming. That wonderful short conversation between Li Ming and Jim, where Jim confirms with Li Ming that Jim is just *worried* about Li Ming, like a parent.

When Li Ming says, "love isn't that big of a deal." When Li Ming talks about other ways that life needs to be sustainable.

Li Ming KNOWS Jim, and knows HOW TO TALK TO JIM.

How brilliant is that, to see that in someone so young, just dominate you, an older person, by way of emotional knowledge and sophistication? Jim had no choice, in my read, but to trust Li Ming -- and, maybe, take some inspiration and take that sophistication, and internalize it, so that he (Jim) could begin to relax and find happiness as well.

5) The other story about Li Ming's movement is between him and Heart, and as I said before, I'm just totally sold on GeminiFourth as a pairing, because their dynamic was really perfect for the growth that needed to be demonstrated between the two of them.

HEART! We saw Heart shoot his shot, dang it! HEART! With his wanting a boyfriend, with his parents learning sign language, with PEOPLE AROUND HIM LEARNING HOW TO TALK TO HIM. On multiple levels, even if we didn't see all of it actively (like with Heart's parents), Heart made demands and shot his shots, just like Li Ming did with his own family.

GOOD GOD -- could Aof have used this motif more wonderfully, so EFFICIENTLY? Young people get shit done! No holds barred, they can bolt through their own obstacles, their own barriers, to get shit done. Young people aren't held down by the past, like some old uncles we know.

And yet. Young people CAN ALSO RESPECT THE PAST, AND BRING LONG-STANDING CULTURE WITH THEM -- as Heart and Li Ming showed at the temple, as Li Ming danced as a lion, bringing in the Lunar New Year (FULL CIRCLE from when the series premiered, y'all!) AND THAT'S GROWTH. That's how the world spins, that's how Pattaya spins -- a place caught in the middle between the old and the new, the historic and the modern. Just like Li Ming and Heart, they are always growing, always maturing, and fast, like young people do, before they get stagnant-ish and older-ish, like Uncle Jim.

6) And then we see the growth paradigm with Jim, as reflected in the mirror of Li Ming. We see Jim -- finally -- loosening up. We see Jim come out as paired up with Wen to his sister. We see them on a date, a romantic date on the beach. (Sure, Jim is still an old dad, complaining about the food or whatever, geez, Jim.)

We see him close the old place, and open a new place. We see that new place as a new and modern way to hold over the old culture -- khao man gai, outside, under the stars, the way it's supposed to be eaten in an equatorial country.

I'm borrowing the following screencap from @hummingbirdsinjune:

We see Jim, finally, reflecting. We see him reflecting on how people were able to move forward, people like Jam and Gaipa, while he reflected on how he was held back. We see him figuring out how he won't hold himself back, and won't LET HIMSELF BE HELD BACK, anymore. He cancels the lease to let go. He, finally, wants to be in control. He sells the car, one of his last links to Beam. And commits to moving forward in so many ways.

And he stays in Pattaya. So we know -- he's still going to be connected to the old ways, the historic culture, of Pattaya.

And when Wen choose to decline the job. When Wen -- AND JIM -- decide to build a home together. Home isn't anything modern. Home is HOME. Home is history. Home is building history together. Jim is both leaving things behind.... and leaving nothing behind. Because he's building all he needs in his life once more.

The building of home with Wen. That's what ultimately took me out about this episode.

7) I believe I finally got the khao man gai analogy to the show that I long wanted before the show premiered. As with Jam's table at her husband's house, when the guys were sitting and eating at the diner before the diner closed. Jim's family, Jim's community. How food brings everyone together. That was a presage, I think, for the home he was going to eventually build with Wen. Y'all know I wanted this, and I'm so glad I got it. Yay, chicken rice.

I'm totally going to have more thoughts over the next few days, but this is what I got for now. I'm so in debt to Aof as an Asian fan of his dramas for giving us such unbelievable commentary on culture and family. We are INCREDIBLY LUCKY to have this artist making these shows. They are so important to me as an Asian, as a lover of my culture and Asian cultures, as an Asian child and mother also struggling with the balance of old and new values and cultural rituals. Aof's shows teach me so much, about extra- and introspection, and Moonlight Chicken was absolutely no exception.

#moonlight chicken #moonlight chicken meta #earthmix #firstkhao #earth pirapat #mix sahaphap #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #geminifourth #fourth nattawat #gemini norawit #jim x wen #wen x jim #alan x gaipa #gaipa x alan #li ming x heart #heart x li ming #moonlight chicken episode 8

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accirax · 4 months ago

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initial thoughts on DCAS episode 16

... is Derek really an incel? like, at the very least, shouldn't him being with Kristal prove that he isn't an incel? i have no qualms with Emily insulting Derek, but she should at least be accurate.

ooh, Emily going full villain mode? we stan :D

girl how would you possibly think this would work

so Ally has resorted to playing a fully emotional game, huh? you either get eliminated a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the Jake.

the music in this scene cracked me up. also, i think aleriya is (canonically) dead after this scene, if it hadn't already died beforehand. (i say canonically bc fans can do whatever they want)

d-does he still...? also, obligatory "just because Connor loves Riya doesn't mean she has any obligation to love him back, villain or not."

i really can't tell if this part of Ally's character arc is meant to be viewed as good or bad. like, the show is obviously telling us that Ally's overall trajectory is bad, and being needlessly cruel to other people for the sake of putting your own emotional wellbeing first could certainly be a part of that. but, there's also been a lot of commentary about how hard it is to be under the scrutiny of social media (likely from the crew's own experiences), so Ally learning to stand up for herself and what she needs could also be a form of wish fulfillment. hopefully it'll resolve as a multi-layered predicament in the end, but i'm just trying to figure out how Ally will respond to her edit in All Stars in either the finale or the Loser's Motel episode.

...can't you just wait, like, two more episodes to directly state the point of your character arc, essentially then concluding it? then i could be sure that you'd win.

HELP

lmao of course the nerd can't rock climb. he can carry 120 pounds on his back but he cannot ascend.

Connor is really fucking strong goddamn?

Ally really can't fight this, because this is the exact rationale that she was trying to use on Jake for their entire games.

i want to see people draw buff Grett in the style of the buff Natsuki meme from DDLC. but, also, go Grett!!!

the intense difficulty of a twelve piece jigsaw puzzle. Venus noted that it really sounded like Kristal was describing a slide puzzle, but I understand why that would've been really difficult to storyboard.

Connor you can't be this stupid (/j)

in-universe, i don't really understand how she beat Alec (he was really good at the block puzzle in s1 and it fits his vibes), but yay Grett! i knew she wasn't going home tonight anyway.

what else could it have possibly been, Ally? regardless, we're definitely setting up the pieces for Grett's downfall soon.

can you really count the TikTok challenge as a "Jake immunity win"? literally everyone except Gabby and Grett won immunity in that challenge.

for a moment, i really thought Connor was going to pull the Kim Possible "out there... in here..." thing.

so true Jake

this feels like a fanfic line

you know Jake's having flashbacks to his last final 6 experience.

well, while i certainly thought that it was Riya's time to go in terms of the cut, it does actually make more sense for Alec to go home here, no plot armor involved! (other than arguably the plot armor of not letting Alec win the challenge.) Alec is much more threatening in a final 3 situation because of his greater athleticism and intelligence as compared to Riya, and Grett is closer to Riya than Alec. it sucks to see one of my favorites go, but it's entirely logical.

Riya out here projecting ("little toy")

this was such a good moment. i especially love the storytelling without dialogue going on with Connor's reaction. anyways, if Riya wasn't going to win before, she's definitely not going to win now. you don't get hit with the "look at what a sorry state you're in" three episodes before the final and then snatch the W.

maybe you shouldn't have fired and humiliated your employees live on TV, then.

is this season going to end with Kristal resigning from the show? i thought that might happen to make way for Emily as the new host, but now that she's going more villainous, i don't think that'll be the cast anymore. maybe Derek and Trevor will take the show back over, as (I think) the more popular hosts in the fandom?

anyways. a solid episode! i think a good number of people saw the Connor idol play coming from a mile away, so it wasn't all that surprising that one of the major villains was going down. still, we had interesting strategy and some great character moments, especially for Connor. they're really making the best of his extended time in All Stars. and, hey, there are only two guys left, so maybe he'll make the finale! it doesn't really matter, though, because it's gonna be Jake. i'll keep riding the Jake winner train until he gets eliminated. not that i think that's going to happen ;)

see you next week!

#disventure camp #disventure camp spoilers #dcas #dcas initial thoughts #i did also get spoiled on the outcome of this episode which may be part of why i sound less excited about the elim than i might have been #i didn't get the surprise factor but it did also help me see how this was a good final act for the boot #other than whatever they'll be doing in the losers' motel #hehehe... loser's motel

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thenightling · 1 year ago

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DO NOT BUY THIS EDITION OF FRANKENSTEIN! This is a sexist and ignorant dog whistle and as a fan of the actual Frankenstein novel, I am furious.

1. First there is the false implication that Percy Shelley co-wrote Frankenstein. He did not. In fact Mary Shelley revised the 1818 text in 1831. That's AFTER Percy's Death.

This sexism was brought to you by such "reliable" books as "The Man who wrote Frankenstein" which was written by a very sexist conspiracy theorist who once claimed that AIDS was spread through pills. That conspiracy theorist used dummy accounts to positively review his self-published books on Amazon (seriously, go check if you want) and his main reason for believing Mary Shelley didn't really write Frankenstein is his claim that she was "uneducated."

Percy wasn't a novelist. He was a poet. Mary Shelley actually wrote many novels after Frankenstein, it's just that none were as successful as Frankenstein. Just because she wrote her greatest novel while her husband was alive doesn't mean her husband secretly wrote it.

He also claimed a woman cannot have written a man's perspective so well and she wrote from the perspective of three men. Victor Frankenstein, The Creature, and Captain Walton.

By that same reasoning Stan Rice must have written Interview with The Vampire, not Anne. It's a sexist and classist equivalent of the classist conspiracy theories that Shakespeare couldn't have written Shakespeare because he was "Too poor and ill-educated" to have been that creative.

2. One big problem with novels like Frankenstein and Dracula being in the public domain is anyone can re-publish them any way they want, even with this sleezy and misleading presentation.

3. Frankenstein wasn't really a science fiction novel even though Google and this blurb claim it is. Frankenstein, the novel, never warned about the advancement of technology.

There's no hard science in the book. Victor wasn't studying biology. He was studying metaphysics and he never graduated.

(Metaphysics degrees aren't even currently recognized in the US. You can only get an honorary one from institutions like ULC).

Victor found the secret of life while reading the works of Agrippa and Paracelsus. A self-proclaimed sorcerer and alchemist.

The Creature is more like a Dungeons and Dragons Flesh Golem with a soul than what you see in most of the movies.

Its main morals and themes had nothing to do with "Playing God" or "the advancement of science." No. That overly exonerates Victor Frankenstein and those The Creature interacted with. Victor's main crime was rejecting his creation as soon as he came to life, which may have been a metaphor for what we today call Postpartum depression.

The themes were about parental responsibility, the futility of revenge, and the need to forgive.

If you have a shred of integrity or respect for women do NOT buy this edition of Frankenstein that falsely credits Percy Shelley and feels like it was being described by someone who only watched the 1931 movie. (The more accurate to the book film adaptation is the 2004 Hallmark mini-series version starring Luke Goss as The Creature.) If you want a good edition of Frankenstein, I strongly recommend the 1831 version republished with Bernie Wrightson's gorgeous illustrations accompanying it. That one is exceptional and respectful to Mary Shelley without falsely crediting Percy Shelley.

Here's the blurb that was attached to the awful edition:

"That’s right, the very first science fiction novel is also a work of transhumanism, though I’m not sure Mary Shelley would have used the term. After all, the monster wouldn’t even exist without technology. So even the earliest sci-fi novel was trying to warn us about the dangers technology poses to our humanity."

#Frankenstein #Mary Shelley #Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

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huellitaa · 5 months ago

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bee's record player, june edition 🎀𓂃 ࣪˖

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 INTRO

and to go hand in hand with the may edition and a consolation for how late said may edition of bee's record player was, i present to you bee's record player, june edition! now this month has a LOT in terms of music so i won't stall any further; here is the VERY EARLY edition of bee's record player, june edition! <3 happy pride month lovelies! ♡

──★ ˙ ̟🎀NEW ARRIVALS

give me that, wayv

♡ released 3rd june, 2024

♡ extended play / EP

♡ best songs: not yet listened! ♡

♡ running time: 18 minutes 16 seconds

baby blue movie, cigarettes after sex

♡ released 4th june, 2024

♡ single

♡ running time: 4 minutes 5 seconds

coming home, beabadoobee

♡ released 5th june, 2024

♡ pre-release single

♡ running time: 2 minutes 16 seconds

please please please, sabrina carpenter

♡ released 6th june, 2024

♡ pre-release single

♡ running time: 6 minutes 1 second

na, nayeon

♡ released 14th june, 2024

♡ extended play / EP

♡ best songs: butterflies, heaven, magic

♡ running time: 22 minutes 29 seconds

never be yours, kali uchis

♡ released 21st june, 2024

♡ single

♡ running time: 3 minutes 16 seconds

supernatural, newjeans

♡ released 21st june, 2024

♡ single

♡ running time: 11 minutes 42 seconds

──★ ˙ ̟🎀BEE'S TRACKS: TOP 10

♡ 10. ultraviolence, lana del rey

never gets old honestly. lana ilysm my baby this song is my everything i actually cannot do this. if i die and dont come back to sing "yo soy la princesa " and the whole bridge yall know im dead sorry ab that 💔

♡ 9. complicated, avril lavigne

ONCE AGAIN. ABSOLUTE BANGER. CLASSIC. I LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH AND IT'S SO RELATABLE RIGHT NOW TOO AVRIL ILY ILY ILY

♡ 8. my kink is karma, chappell roan

also very relatable right now,,, feeling like this ab several very specific people in or out of my life right now and it's so ridiculously accurate and such a banger and her voice is SO RIDICULOUSLY SATISFYING BRO EUUUHHHHSUEUJJJNNNNFFFFUUUEUU

♡ 7. i'll see you there tomorrow, tomorrow x together

YESSS THIS SOBG IS SO BACK WE'RE SO BACK ISYTT STANS RISE. THIS SONG IS SUMMER IDC. ITS JUST. OH KY GOSH. I LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY I LJJJDJJUUEEUUHHHHH (translation: very good song! 🫶🏻💖)

♡ 6. gee, girls' generation

GEE GEE GEE GEE BABABAYAY GEE GEE EGEE GEE BABSBABAB this song is the EPITOME of 2000's girly girl kpop. it makes me feel SO girly and i ADORE girls generation. they're just silly girls making silly songs in the silly 2000's i adore them

♡ 5. naked in manhattan, chappell roan

OH MY GOSH. THIS IS MY FAVOURITE SONG EVER ATM U DONT GET IT. listening to this in a sapphic situationship hits different u guys don't get it. naked in manhattan is my religion . the lana and the mean girls ref make me foam at the mouth

♡ 4. femininomenon, chappell roan

HIT IT LIKE ROMPOMDPUM GET IT HOT LIKE PAOA JOHN MAKE A BITCH GO ON AND ON ITS A FEMININOKEMENON. woahhh chappell again are we surprised? no. my excuse is it's pride month fuck off leave me and my cunty lesbian pop alone. ANYWAY THIS SONG IS FOR THE CUNTY LESBIANS AND THE SEXY MANHATER GIRLS GO QUEENS WE LOVE YOUU

♡ 3. please please please, sabrina carpenter

HEARYBREAK IS KNE THING. MY EGOS ANOYHER. I BEG YOU DONT EMABRASS ME MOTHERFUCKER. the vibes this song has are immaculate and once again absolutely devoured the vocals and the retro style music is EVERYTHING brina PLEASE more of this !!! ♡ unpopular opinion espresso was TOP TIER GODLY HEAVENLY PERFECT but i enjoy this ever so sligjtly more. BITH ARE SO GOOD THOGH I CNAT

♡ 2. coming home, beabadoobee

comfort song. this song feels like coming home. it feels like being in disneyland or being at the top of a tower in the evening with the lamplights glowing and the streets bustling and the music playing and just taking a breath of fresh air and realising you're alive thank you for this beautiful masterpiece i'll never get over this bea. i might cry seeing this live honestly

♡ 1. good luck, babe!, chappell roan

this song saved my life watered my crops fed my children impregnated my children made me fall in love with the world again her vocals feel like i'm ascending to heaven i feel like i'm on shrooms i chappell roan i chap

──★ ˙ ̟🎀ALBUMS

♡ 1. rise and fall of a midwest princess, chappell roan

anddd second month strong, chappell stays on top!!!!!! somehow i've become even more obsessed with her than i was last month but we are not gonna talk ab it. it's pride month don't ask me !!!!!!!!!!!!

♡ 2. the name chapter: freefall, tomorrow x together

gone back to freefall lately because i can't believe we're out of freefall era and i miss it so bad. i love tomorrow so so so so so so much but i miss freefall too (+ growing pains is my everything esp bc of the concert videos that i'd kill a man to see live 💔 KAI KAMAL HUENING. I NEED YOU.)

♡ 3. ultraviolence, lana del rey

in honour of both my crippling summer depressive episode and mother's birthday on the 21st ultraviolence is back up at the top again! the glow up before and after listening to ultraviolence is insane idgaf

♡ 4. our extended play, beabadoobee

SHOOPDOOBDOODOABAODOO SHOOPSODOBADODOD OH YEAH SHOOP im so ridiculously excited 2 see this live

♡ 5. beatopia, beabadoobee

once again in honour of the bea concert in november we beatopia still remaining here which is quite a feat actually considering how much i listen to music GO BEA WOOO

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 ARTISTS

♡ CHAPPELL ROAN (it's pride month.)

♡ TOMORROW X TOGETHER (again. it's pride month.)

♡ SABRINA CARPENTER

♡ NEWJEANS

♡ LANA DEL REY (just barely overtook bea!)

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 SPECIAL MENTIONS

along with the announcement of "this is how tomorrow moves" by our lovely lovely girl beabadoobee, the pop princess, the it girl of western music, sabrina carpenter will be making a return with her new album "short 'n sweet" on the 23rd of august, 2024! ♡

a beyond happy birthday to our mother lana, raising girlbloggers since btd era and onwards ♡ we love you lana ♡

tour dates of both brina and bea have been released this month AND THE BEST PART... ME AND MY BEST FRIEND ARE GOING TO A BEA CONCERT IN NOVEMBER 🫶🏻💘💖 I'M BEYOND EXCITED IT WAS LITERALLY JUST LAST ISSUE I WAS TALKING AB HOW MUCH I WANTED TO SEE HER LIVE I CANT DO TJIS AJDHFIAKTJSKF

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 EDITOR'S NOTE

once again, thank you ever so much for reading this issue of bee's record player: june edition! i really really enjoy writing these and getting the chance to yap ab all my silly little music obsessions to you all. i've made some of my closest friends on here and i treasure you all, love u guys <3

all my love! 💘💬🎀

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spopsalt · 6 months ago

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Bro are you mentally ok? You're over here saying that Rick and Morty's familial relationship is healthier than Catra and Adora's relationship like??? Have you even watched the shows??? I'm convinced that you're braindead or just media illiterate.

Oh wow! Well looky here! Such a lovely anon ask <3 First off, if you don't like my content... maybe just block me instead of asking if I'm mentally okay and calling me braindead??? I'm not saying their dynamic is healthy, far from it, but I'm saying that it's healthier than c//a (Not like that's a high bar) Anywayyyy allow me to explain why it's healthier than your incest cute totally healthy ship. Again, just wanna make it clear because people are gross, whatever I say about Rick and Morty is 100% PLATONIC AND FAMILIAL! Got that out of the way? Good. And awayyyyyyyyy we go!

Rick doesn't use unwanted physical touch on Morty to assert control unlike a certain abusive kitty cat *cough* Catra *cough* Catra literally forces Adora to dance with her in the princess prom dance that for some reason a lot of c//a stans sexualize (Despite them being TEENAGERS at the time) and we can clearly see that Adora is uncomfortable the whole time. Meanwhile with Rick and Morty at most Rick will touch Morty's shoulder, or awkwardly hug him back, but he never does it when it's unwanted, for example when Morty pulled away from their hug, Rick didn't attempt to hug him again, sure he looked concerned but that isn't a bad thing, he was just worried, anyways that ties into my next point!

Rick is actually protective of Morty. Now, Catra is only protective of Adora when the plot demands it! But Rick is consistently protective of Morty, this started all the way back in season 1 episode 4, where he gets rightfully pissed when he found out aliens were monitoring Morty naked to accurately simulate his genitalia, we can even see that he tried to attack them but was held back. And in the episode afterward, we can see him kill someone who attempted to assault Morty.

Rick never attempted to kill Morty. This is the lowest possible bar, BUT Rick has never once attempted to kill Morty, again, unlike a certain kitty cat who tried to kill her sister crush MULTIPLE TIMES! Rick actually does the exact opposite, we see in season 2 episode 1 "A Rickle In Time" that when push comes to shove, Rick is willing to sacrifice his life for Morty. While this doesn't make up for all the bad stuff he does to Morty, it's pretty irrefutable evidence that Rick does care about Morty. I'm not saying you have to sacrifice yourself for someone to show that you care, buttttt it's pretty good evidence to show that Rick does care. His literal only request is for Morty to "be good"

Next up! Morty canonically gets comforted by Rick's physical touch. This shows that Morty feels comfortable enough around Rick to get comforted whenever he so much as hugs him, we see this in "Unmortricken" and "Fear No Mort" (Abilet those were like the only times Rick and Morty hugged soooooo) Meanwhile with Adora, Catra's touch tends to make her panic more (Unless you count her being calmed by Catra's slap when she was having a panic attack but c'mon dude)

Rick never brags about how easy it is to manipulate Morty, while Rick does canonically manipulate Morty in canon, which is immensely fucked up, I am not defending Rick I promise you, he literally does the bare minimum and doesn't brag about how easily manipulated Morty is unlike Catra twice, I don't remember the exact episodes, but the lines are "You and Adora are perfect for each other I'll give you that, earnest, naive, ridiculously easy to manipulate..." "But she's (Adora's) slow, and easily manipulated."

Rick never finds happiness in Morty's pain, again another really, really low bar, buttttt Rick is happy because Morty is miserable, the closest I can think of is season 4 episode 3, but he wasn't happy because Morty was miserable, he was happy because his (fucked up) plan worked, meanwhile Catra is always smiling and make little quips when Adora is in literal agony due to her, she derives some kinda sick sadistic pleasure from it and just loves to feed on her insecurities during battle, which is...interesting.

Those were just some random ones I could think of from the top of my head, but I'm sure that there's more, so maybe you need to watch the shows before leaving anon hate <3

#anti spop #anti catra #spop criticism #anti c//a #spop discourse #anti catradora #spop crit #antic//a #spop critical #spop salt

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blaisenova · 1 year ago

Text

the consequences of enjoying someone's company

Xina Kwan had always been able to make Miguel smile even when no one else could. Maybe a little bit TOO well...

or:

Miguel O'Hara visits with his ex-girlfriend turned friend, Xina Kwan, until, like always, things don't go quite as planned, and Miguel has to explain some rather strange truths about himself, such as why Xina could see fangs when he smiled.

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the world needs more xina and miguel content, and i am all too happy to supply it.

xinamiguel lovers, this one is for you!! they're not explicitly stated to be together, so it can be read as either platonic or romantic, but it is entirely possible to read some of what happens as romantic tension. THIS IS CANON COMPLIANT, OKAY?? WE CAN'T KEEP PRETENDING THAT THEY DIDN'T STILL KINDA LOVE EACH OTHER EVEN AFTER THEY BROKE UP IN THE COMICS. dana lovers, beware of dana slander. i'd say i'm sorry but it would be a lie. we stan xina here.

also, an extra bonus for those of you who just want to see miguel be a guy for once. oh yeah, that's right, in this ao3 fanfiction i offer you a miguel o'hara that ISN'T just angry all the time. you wanna see this man have a good time? you wanna see him interact with someone without being an asshole the entire time??? you wanna see how this man acts when he's not under the pressure of holding together the entire multiverse??????? WELL HERE HE IS. comic accurate miguel. come get y'all juice.

gentle reminder that i also take requests if any of you have an idea itching at the back of your brain but don't wanna write it XD

content is below the cut because it is LONG. ao3 link is in the reblogs as always. please enjoy!! <3

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It would be impossible to overstate just how much Xina Kwan meant to Miguel O’Hara.

The two had known each other from the time they were young children, back when it had felt like it was them two against the world – and, really, the sentiment wasn’t too far off considering how desperately Kron Stone had wanted to make their lives living hell, up until he decided they didn’t deserve their lives at all – and to say that they were close would be an understatement. So close, in fact, that once they’d matured from intelligent youth to genius adults (and Miguel, from an arrogant child to an even more arrogant adult), the two had gotten together.

Then, of course, Miguel had ruined it by being his selfish, self-absorbed self; though, in the moment, he hadn’t thought it was a mistake to leave Xina for Dana. There’d been a part of him that regretted hurting Xina the way he had, but Dana was a gorgeous, loving woman who never thought him any less than perfect, and Xina… Xina hadn’t let him be content in being the bastard that he was. At the time, he hadn’t liked that about her.

Now, after it was already too late and Miguel had ruined things with Dana, too, he could see how stupid he was for choosing what was easy over what was best. Just another failure to chalk up to the heroic Spider-Man.

It was true that Dana loved him, and it was even true that he loved her back, but it had taken a lot of suffering and bullshit to realise that loving someone wasn’t necessarily enough for them to be good for you. He probably should have known that already, considering the state of his own family, but that would have required any level of self-reflection, and that was still a rather new skill for him, all things considered.

What he knew now, though, was that Xina had never apologised to Miguel’s dad on his behalf, claiming that he didn’t mean his vitriol when he did. Xina had never tried to love George O’Hara when they both knew he didn’t deserve it, and she certainly hadn’t tried to convince Miguel to love him, too. Dana believed that he’d cried at his father’s funeral because he genuinely felt sorrow, and Miguel hadn’t had the heart to tell her otherwise. Somehow, even after everything, she still didn’t seem to understand that some people didn’t deserve love or pity, and that, even if George somehow did, Miguel would never have deigned to give it to him. Though, there was also a part of him that found himself wondering how she hadn’t seemed to get that he didn’t deserve it either.

Complicated and distressing feelings aside, there were simply things that Dana let Miguel get away with that she shouldn’t – like being arrogant, and “pompous” (or so Xina had said, at least, and, frankly, Miguel was starting to believe her), and uncaring towards the world that so desperately needed to be cared for – and there were things she wouldn’t let go that she should – like his relationship with his father, and his mother, and Gabriel, as if she hadn’t hurt him, too; as if she didn’t use the fact that Gabriel used to love her to keep him from being angry with her.

If honesty was what you were looking for – something Miguel had never been very good at, especially when it came to the difficult truths about himself – he would say that, despite his initial regret over his hasty break up with Dana on the day that he found out about his biological father and the truth of his… condition, it was a bit of a relief. They had been in love, but that wasn’t enough. Miguel had adored her, but she’d made him a worse person and he’d hurt her in kind, and, while he might not have cared about that fact before, he did now.

Running from the difficult confrontations and hiding in easy love that allowed him to fester in his grief was a choice he’d made back when he’d cheated on Xina, but he could see now that it was a poor one.

And, really, if honesty was what you were looking for – which, really, was asking a lot of Miguel – he would say that he missed Xina. Maybe not necessarily in a romantic sense (though, he couldn’t quite be sure), but it didn’t really matter, when it came down to it.

There was a reason that Miguel had insisted so fervently that LYLA be fixed. Sure, maybe it was, in part, due to her comforting familiarity in a time that was, undeniably, full of the terrifying unfamiliar, but it was also because LYLA was a product of Xina; she was a constant reminder of the person that Miguel had cared for so much and, frankly, still did. He hadn’t wanted to let that go, and maybe that should have told him something even before things ended with Dana, but Miguel had never been very good at facing difficult feelings. That’s why Dana had been so addicting, and why he’d wronged Xina when he shouldn’t have.

Xina had always been a bigger person than he had, though, and, somehow, she’d found it in herself to forgive him for what he’d done. If Miguel still wasn’t so afraid of what voicing his relief and appreciation might cause, he’d thank her. Maybe one day.

For now, though, the two could be friends as they once were; or, at least, something close to it. It was a nice change of pace, to be able to talk to someone that didn’t want something from him, one way or another. Though, admittedly, that was likely, in part, due to the fact that Xina’s expectations of him were still depressingly low.

It hurt a bit, but Miguel was aware that he’d more than earned it.

For now, mercifully, the difficult conversations could wait, and Miguel could pretend to be nothing more than Miguel O’Hara: bastard of a man that was doing his damndest to become less of one; not Spider-Man and whatever being him meant.

Or, at least, that was what he’d thought. He’d never really been that fortunate.

“Miguel O’Hara,” Xina exclaimed with faux fury, a hand placed firmly on her hip and a brow quirked upward as she attempted to bite back her smile behind a snarl. Her other hand laid casually on the door handle, and Miguel could already see all sorts of twencen junk just a few feet inside her home. “And just what, pray tell, are you doing here?”

“Xina Kwan,” Miguel returned, matching her energy as he, too, placed his hands on his hips and scowled. “I should ask you the same thing.”

Losing the fight against her amusement, Xina desperately tried to obscure her laugh with a scoff. “I remember you being smarter,” she mused. “I live here, as a matter of fact.”

As if the notion was news to him, Miguel’s eyes widened, and he straightened up, making a show of looking around the doorstep and peeking past her shoulder into the house before he raised his brows. “Well, sure enough,” he hummed. “Fancy that. May I come in?”

Sighing, Xina allowed a smile to slip onto her face, and she pushed the door aside, gesturing half-heartedly. “Yes, I suppose, but don’t touch anything. I don’t know what you’re contaminated with.”

“Charming, as always, Xina,” Miguel hummed as he entered. He fixed her with his own smile, and, like usual, took care to ensure that his fangs remained concealed. “I was going to say you were a better doorman than that robot of yours, but now I’m not so sure.”

“What’s wrong with Jack?” The words were accompanied by the sharp slam of a door, and Miguel couldn’t help but to smirk as he turned to see the annoyance on her face.

“He still calls me ‘Miguel the creep,’” he hummed, idly picking up some sort of blocky looking plastic brick with buttons on the side and some sort of antennae coming out of the top.

Immediately, Xina smacked his hand, and Miguel hissed at the feeling but placed the object back on the table nonetheless. “Does he?” she asked, eyes wide as if she genuinely didn’t know. Which was shocking bullshit. “That’s so strange. I wonder who taught him that.”

“I have a few ideas,” Miguel murmured, rubbing his hand with a pointed look.

“Well, now, let’s not get accusatory.” Xina straightened the item he’d moved, brushing it off gently. She paused, examined the object once more, then moved it slightly to the left before nodding affirmatively.

All the while, Miguel could only watch in muted fascination. “What is that thing?”

“Some twencen tech!” she immediately chirped, eager as always to talk about her number one favourite hobby. “It’s called a ‘walkie-talkie.’”

Miguel’s head cocked to the side, a brow raising. “A whatie-what?”

“A ‘walkie-talkie,’” Xina repeated slowly, grabbing his ear and pulling it to her lips as she spoke, much to Miguel’s chagrin. He batted her away, though couldn’t quite squash down a smile. “It’s basically what they used before holo-messages. I just wish I had another one so I could use it for something besides collecting dust. They only work with a pair,” she huffed.

Again, Miguel picked up the object, taking care in his movement, and, this time, Xina let him. He turned the walkie-talkie curiously in his hands, impressed by its weight when it supposedly had such a simple function. He’d never really understood her obsession with the twentieth century. From what he’d read, things really weren’t all that much better than they were now. He’d been working on a goober – though LYLA liked to call it a gizmo, mostly to spite him, he’s sure – to potentially see for himself in another universe, if he didn’t, y’know… die in the process.

That was later Miguel’s issue, though, and a worthy risk if he might be able to bring Xina a matching machine to complete her set. He didn’t get her obsession, but he didn’t have to. It was important to her, and that’s what was important to him.

Almost inaudible in his concentrated confusion, he mumbled, “Qué extraño…”

“What was that?”

“I said ‘super cool.’”

With another huff, Xina took the artefact from his hands once more, placing it back down onto the table. “Yeah, alright, you liar.”

Despite the practised angry tone, Miguel could see the way her lips quirked up in a smile, and he couldn’t help but snicker a bit. She’d always known him too well to believe nice lies. It was part of the reason why Miguel used to be so afraid of her, though the admission was something he still hadn’t quite come to terms with. Afraid was a strong word, but it was also an accurate one. Miguel was afraid to be seen for what he was, because he was even more afraid that he was something not worth seeing. Xina had never seemed to agree with that sentiment, though.

“Okay, maybe I don’t get it,” he admitted, hands on his hips once more.

“Of course you don’t,” Xina returned, cruel teasing words accompanied by a sweet smile. “I was always much smarter than you.”

“Har, har,” he said sarcastically. “Very funny.”

“Who said I was joking?” Then, before Miguel could respond, “how are you and… Diana, was it?”

“Dana.”

“Yeah, that one,” she said, snappily enough that it was clear that she’d actually known the answer all along, which Miguel was well aware of, considering how LYLA had returned to him with intricately coded insults specifically in Dana’s name. “You haven’t talked about her in a while. Did you two finally break up?”

Without missing a beat, Miguel fixed her with a sarcastic smile. “Yes, actually! Thanks so much for asking.”

Despite the nature of the question, his answer seemed to genuinely catch Xina off guard, her eyes going wide and mouth falling open. Her eyes searched his face as her brows furrowed, a mixture of guilt and some kind of indecipherable relief shining in her gaze as the gears turned in her mind and grasped for a response. It was almost amusing to see Xina so stumped when, normally, she was so quick on the draw. There were very few times that Miguel had seen her well and truly left without words, though, unfortunately, the twinge of bitterness and healthy dose of grief made it difficult to enjoy to its fullest.

“Congratulations,” she blurted, then immediately cringed at herself, a hand coming up to her forehead with an audible smack, and, admittedly, Miguel’s eyes widened a considerable degree, too. “Wait, fuck-” she backtracked. “That’s not what I meant at all. I’m sorry, Mig-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Miguel hastily interrupted, pushing down hurt and hiding it behind a quirked brow. “What did you just say?”

Shrinking in on herself, Xina cringed again. “Congratulations?”

“No, no, not that,” he said, and a hand waved her off almost dismissively. “The other thing.”

“I’m… sorry?” she tried again, brows furrowed in confusion. Her arms, which she’d wrapped tightly around her shoulders, loosened their grip, though the tension didn’t leave her.

Miguel shook his head with another wave of his hand. “Not that either. The f-word.”

Eyes narrowing, Xina tilted her head forward. “Fuck?”

A short, breathless laugh fell from his mouth. “Oh, my god,” he nearly whispered, his eyes wide behind his sunglasses. “What are you, a millennial?”

“Wha-” Again, Xina’s eyes went wide, and her hands fell from her shoulders completely. “Miguel, are you kidding? That’s what you’re upset about? Me saying fuck?”

Face deadly serious, Miguel nodded once more as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Nobody says ‘fuck’ anymore. I know you’re into the whole twencen thing, but cursing is a sacred thing. You need to act like a civilised human being and say ‘shock.’”

As if she was entirely unsure how to react, Xina’s mouth still hung open uselessly, her eyes searching Miguel’s almost urgently. When all she was met with was his carefully practised mask of apathy, she managed a surprised scoff and picked her jaw up from off of the floor. Miguel, to his credit, managed to hold himself together, too, and raised a brow.

“You’re unbelievable,” she sputtered.

“Thank you,” came the response.

Then, “No, you are genuinely…” but she didn’t finish, the words trailing off, and Xina’s eyes narrowed once more. She leaned back on her feet, managing to actually look somewhat intimidating despite how much shorter she was than Miguel. Her arms crossed, and she fixed him with an unimpressed look that made his skin crawl just a bit. “I see what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he lied through his teeth, trying desperately to keep the tension out of his shoulders.

“No, no, you are,” Xina insisted, no longer falling for his antics. “I’ve known you since we were kids, Miguel. I know all of your stupid little tricks, probably better than you know them yourself.” She approached him, and, really, despite Miguel quite literally towering over her, he still felt small under her glare. “I’m gonna apologise to you, whether you like it or not.”

“Xina,” Miguel began uneasily, giving her his best attempt at a placating smile. “Come on… Let’s not be rash. I cheated on you, and you told me ‘congratulations’ when I broke up with my fiancée. We can just call it even.”

“Alright, first of all,” Xina began, a finger waving in Miguel’s face.

“Oh, boy.”

“Those two things are not comparable,” she hissed, though Miguel’s attention was mostly on the way that her finger moved in front of him. “And second of all-”

“Right.”

“I am better than you.”

“Uh huh.”

“I apologise to people when I hurt them, even if they don’t deserve it.”

“Oh, great.”

“So, I- Are you even listening?”

At that, her hand stilled, and Miguel frowned, his eyes refocusing on her face. “What?”

“Unbelievable.”

“I’m kidding! Come on, let’s just forget about it,” Miguel practically pleaded. “We can watch one of those twencen movies you like. One with that actress you really like, uh…” He trailed off, face screwed up in focus, mumbling, “ay, ¿cómo se llama?” then, with a snap of his fingers, “Marilyn Monroe!”

Xina placed her hands on her hips, brows furrowed as she eyed him. “You’re really sad about it, huh?”

A scowl found its way onto Miguel’s face once more, and he ran a hand over his face and through his hair in exasperation. “Ámi, I don’t know how I can be any clearer that I do not want to talk about it, or even think about it, for that matter.”

“Alright, alright,” Xina relented, raising her hands in surrender. There was a beat before she snickered a bit, shoving Miguel’s arm with a smile that was a bit too soft. “Look at Miguelito! He grew a heart, eh? What’d you do with the real Miguel?”

Despite the teasing, Miguel couldn’t help but to return her smile. “I guess someone got fed up with his ‘pompous’ attitude and killed him,” he answered, and the two laughed.

In a way, Miguel knew that it was irresponsible and selfish to hold all of his hurt as close to his chest as possible only to inevitably lash out when someone happened to push the wrong buttons. More than anything, he was terrified of being like his father; or, step-father, rather. George O’Hara had chosen the worst possible way to express his feelings, and it had, admittedly, left Miguel terrified to express his at all. It felt safer to just keep them to himself, up until the point that he couldn’t take it anymore and ended up taking it out on someone else, and, in the moment immediately after, Miguel realised just how much like George O’Hara he really was.

The thought was enough to make him feel sick, and it just made him work even harder to be everything his father wasn’t, for better or for worse.

George O’Hara never would have taken up the mantle of Spider-Man, and, even if he had, he certainly wouldn’t have used the position for any damn good. Knowing the bastard, he probably would have used his abilities to come up with new and improved ways to torment his family. If Miguel couldn’t say he was better than his father in any other way, at least he could say that he was better than him in that.

Still, there were more days than Miguel liked to admit that he wondered whether he was doing the right thing by trying to use his powers for good, or if he really was just using it to boost his own ego like Gabriel had accused him of.

“Hey,” came Xina’s gentle call, her hand pressed against his bicep gently, grounding him. “Have you ever heard of Pac-Man?”

Miguel was quiet for a moment, then, “not even once.”

“Oh, man,” she said, her face cracking into a smile, “prepare to have your mind blown.”

To say Miguel’s mind was not blown would be an understatement. Of course, he knew by now that the things Xina found to be completely mind blowing were entirely different from the things Miguel would be impressed by, but, even with reasonably low expectations, this was a disappointment. She’d led him through her house, skillfully weaving around the organised clutter of twencen artefacts, then stopped – with the biggest, proudest smile Miguel had ever seen from her – in front of a rectangle with two buttons, a stick, and a screen. He raised a brow at the thing, then peeked over to Xina again.

“Well?” she prompted, gesturing to the box and confirming that Miguel wasn’t mistaken and that the real thing wasn’t hidden behind the rectangle. “What do you think?”

Again, his eyes slid over the thing, and, yeah, it really was just a couple of buttons and a stick, but, nevertheless, he smiled. “Consider my mind blown.”

“Yeah, alright,” she huffed. “Thanks for humouring me. I swear it gets better.” Xina beamed as she pulled the cabinet away from the wall with some degree of effort and pulled what looked to be some sort of tail from the object. Miguel watched in muted fascination as she stuck the thing into some sort of specially made device that connected the thing to the building’s power source… with a wire? Who would want that?

All at once, the thing’s screen flared to life with so few neon coloured pixels that they barely even made shapes but, somehow, managed to be bright enough to hurt anyway, making Miguel flinch even behind his sunglasses. Coupled with the almost ear-piercing music and sound effects that accompanied it, he could safely say that he was less impressed than he was bothered. As Xina once again turned her smile to him, gesturing to the screen with all of the enthusiasm of a child, Miguel wouldn’t have dared to say it aloud.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said, and that much, at least, was true.

“I know, I know. It’s pretty awesome,” Xina bubbled, and her smile turned mischievous. “The best part? It’s two player.”

That made Miguel raise a brow in genuine interest. “It’s a game?”

“Finally have your interest, huh?” she teased. “It is a game. One of the first, actually.”

Miguel peered at the screen again, watching yellow pixels dart across, occasionally followed by red, blue, pink, or orange. His head cocked to the side, and he took a bit of a hesitant step closer. “How do you play?”

With a snicker, Xina rubbed her hands together before lacing them together and pushing them forward with an accompanying crack. “Watch and learn, rookie.”

As it turned out, Pac-Man was actually a relatively simple game; you (the yellow munching thing, though Miguel did not get an answer as to what it was other than “he’s Pac-Man!”) needed to travel through the maze and eat all of the dots (why, Xina couldn’t tell him) and avoid getting touched by the multicoloured “ghosts” that would chase you throughout the map (which, again, Xina couldn’t explain, but maybe it didn’t matter). There was also fruit that occasionally popped up for some reason – though all it really seemed to do was increase score – and bigger dots that turned the ghosts blue (“Xina, there’s already a blue ghost.” “Well, these are bluer.”) and made them edible, apparently. Though, the ghosts never stayed dead; whereas Pac-Man only got three lives. Miguel commented on the unfairness of it, but Xina didn’t seem particularly interested.

So, all that said, it should have been a pretty easy game. Xina certainly made it look easy, weaving between ghosts with ease and timing her dot collection just right to ensure that she could take out each enemy in one fell swoop. She only played a few levels, noting that the ghosts would get faster and faster, before she intentionally lost so the two of them could play together; which was the same as single player except the game forced you to take turns. Whoopie.

As easy as the game looked, though, Miguel ate his words more than he ate dots as he struggled through his first life.

“What the- What the shock?!” he hissed as he got stuck in a corner for the fifth time, struggling to time the joystick movement with the direction he wanted to go. He whirled to face his companion again, eyes blown wide with frustration. “Xina, it’s shocking broken. It’s these controls, I swear. They’re ancient. Are you sure it’s working?”

Barely containing her laughter, Xina gestured to the screen. “The game’s still going, Mig.”

“¡Chale!” Miguel all but screeched as he turned back to the game, furiously pulling at the joystick once more. “Este jodido juego es tan… ¡Qué mierda! Ay, no, no, no… Aléjense de mí, ¡cabrones! No quiero que me toquen, por favor, moriré- Ah! No! Shit, shit- ¡Coño! Shock!”

As the yellow pixels curled in on themselves in death, Miguel wailed at the screen in frustration, though he perked up as he heard the distinct sound of wheezing from behind him. Concerned for a moment, he quickly turned to check on Xina before his concerned expression fell away into annoyance once more. Xina was laughing so hard her face had turned red, cheeks wet with tears as she barely held herself up against a nearby dresser.

“Oh, yeah, laugh it the shock up, asshole,” Miguel grumbled, though the words came out sounding half-hearted at best.

“You are- so bad!” Xina managed to get out through wheezes. “I don’t think I’ve heard you curse that much ever!” With a short yelp, her hand slipped off of her crutch, and she slipped to the floor – thankfully harmlessly – and her fist pounded against the carpeting like a lifeline as she started to laugh once more.

Unimpressed, Miguel squatted down beside her. “Hey, Xina.”

Taking a few more moments to learn how to breathe again, Xina only hummed, glancing up to him with tears still streaking down her cheeks and eyes crinkled in a smile.

Miguel jerked a hand towards the screen, giving her his own grin. “The game’s still going.”

All at once, her laughter died away, and she rocketed to her feet, nearly taking Miguel out in the process. “Fuck!”

Then, it was his turn to laugh as she scrambled to get away from the oncoming enemies, though Xina was certainly much more successful in the endeavour than he was, managing to make it through a couple more levels despite her setback before she finally took her first death.

With a grandiose laugh, she turned back to Miguel and grinned. “Beat that, bitch!”

Scoffing, Miguel took the joystick into his hand and leaned in close to the screen. “Easily.”

Unfortunately, he did not, in fact, “beat that,” bitch.

In reality, Miguel only managed to make it through the first level, then near immediately lost his last two lives at the very beginning of the second one while, in the intermission between his second and third life, Xina made it all the way to level twenty-six. Needless to say, she had not only beaten him but, also, thoroughly humiliated him in the process. Not that Miguel could possibly be frustrated with the loss when Xina was smiling at him the way she was. In that moment, it really was like nothing had changed, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel lighter than he had in years.

Leaning over her shoulder as Xina prepared herself for last life, she bounced on the balls of her feet and took a deep breath.

“What’s with the face?” Miguel questioned, startling her out of her focus and making her yelp, and he snickered a bit before whispering an apology. “You’ve already beat me, ámi. By no small number, might I, regretfully, add.”

Without so much as a glance towards him, Xina scoffed, the sound accompanied by the skillful flick of the joystick every which way. “Not everything’s about you, Miguel. I’ve almost beaten my highscore.”

A beat, as he remembered just how much effort she’d put into ensuring she beat him. “...You’re sure it’s not even about me a little bit?”

“Shut up,” she hissed. “I’m trying to focus.”

“Alright, alright,” he snickered, putting his attention onto the game right alongside her.

Pac-Man is, admittedly, not as much of a disappointment as Miguel had initially chalked it up to be. In fact, he might even go so far as to say that he was wrong entirely and that the game was actually rather fun, though he wasn’t sure that it would be entirely fair to attribute his amusement to the game so much as the person he was playing it with. At the end of the day, it was just a few pixels on a screen – something that was over a century obsolete and had long since been replaced with far more complex and involved experiences – but there wasn’t anything that could ever possibly equal the time he spent with Xina or make him feel the way her laugh did.

…He’d forgotten the way that she stuck the tip of her tongue out when she was focusing.

As three of the four ghosts closed in on Xina, Miguel couldn’t help but wince. “Uh… please tell me you’ve beaten it.”

“Fuck!” was all he got in response, then, “this fucking game is so… What the hell?! Oh, no, no, no… Get away from me, bastards! I don’t want you to touch me, please, I’ll die- Ah! No! Shit, shit- Fuck! Fuck!”

Yellow pixels curled in on themselves in death as Xina wailed at the screen, and Miguel could barely hold himself up from the force of his laughter, mouth wide open as he cackled unabashedly. His chest heaved desperately for air, only for it to come out in more snorts and snickers, and Xina, clearly just as amused with the situation as he was, turned to him with a poor imitation of a scowl, her lips pulled up wide into a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it the fuck up, asshole,” she chided light-heartedly.

Then, all at once, her smile dropped, and her eyes went wide. The suddenness of it all was enough to near instantly cut off Miguel’s laughter, too, though his smile didn’t quite fall away yet. It warped into something nervous, and a few more uncomfortable laughs fell from him, his brows furrowing into something concerned.

“...What?” he asked cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

Xina didn’t say a word, though she approached him with her own skittishness, taking his cheek in her hand and leaning in close, and Miguel’s face flushed bright red.

There was a moment, however brief, that he was sure that she was going to kiss him.

Then, her finger hooked his upper lip and pulled it upwards, her eyes widening even further as her breath hitched, and, even then, Miguel still didn’t quite get it. It wasn’t until she spoke, voice shaky and small, that he understood.

“Fangs.”

A terrified bolt of dread lanced straight into Miguel’s chest, getting lodged there and weighing him down; stealing his air. His body immediately went tense, his eyes wide, and a trembling hand reached up and ghosted Xina’s, gently pulling it away from his face.

“Xina.” His voice came out strained, equally as small as hers.

“Miguel, you- you have fangs,” she nearly whispered, as if it was some sort of horrifying secret that might get her into trouble if she said it just a bit too loud.

“Xina, I… I can explain.”

With a squeak, she pulled out of his grasp, and he let her. She held her hand close to her chest, as if he’d somehow burned it, and her mouth hung agape in abject horror. “What happened to you? Miguel, I- I know where you work. I know what you do. What did you… What did you do to yourself?”

“It’s not like that,” he breathed, though the truth wasn’t far enough off.

“Then what is it like?” Xina demanded, though the way her voice wavered made the command fall flat. “What happened to you?”

“It was an accident,” and that, at least, was the truth.

“An accident?” she echoed. The way that it was said made it clear she wasn’t quite buying it. “So, what, you meant to alter your own genetics in another way?”

“No,” Miguel shot back in horror, then, “well- well, yes, but-”

“Oh, my god.” Xina blanched. “Miguel-”

“No, no, it’s not-”

“Yes, ‘it’s not like that,’ I know.”

“No, Xina,” he cried. “Just-”

“I really thought you’d changed,” she muttered, trembling. “I really thought-

“Please,” he pleaded, taking a step forward, “just-”

“Miguel,” Xina interrupted again shakily, stepping back in kind. “How can you possibly justify this?”

Dismayed, Miguel backed away, too, hands raised. “I can explain, Xina. Please-”

“Then do it, Miguel!”

“I’m trying. Please, just-”

“Just what?”

“Just listen!” Miguel finally shouted, brows furrowed and hands gesturing in frustrated desperation.

A scream tore from Xina’s throat and she stumbled away, her hands shooting up in front of her as if to push him away, and Miguel choked away a scream of his own, his eyes going wide. Her gaze fixated on his hands, chest heaving desperately.

“Claws!” she screeched. “You’re- You’re a monster!”

“No, I-” Peering down to his raised hands where his talons had inadvertently popped out, he gasped and immediately retracted them, glancing back up to Xina with his own look of horror. He looked distraught, face screwed up in distress, and he stepped backwards once more. Claws, fangs, yelling just as his father had, and Xina looked just as terrified as he’d felt. He loathed himself at the thought. “I- I am. I am a monster.”

Xina’s expression shifted, though only minutely, as she remained poised for fight or flight, breaths still coming in short gasps.

“I’m sorry, Xina,” Miguel sobbed, and his hands moved to clasp over his chest to steady himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to scare you. Please, I… I wouldn’t hurt you, Xina. Never. Never. Not like that.”

There was quiet again for a moment, and Xina’s eyes narrowed, sliding over him in suspicion; over his hands, to his mouth, then, to his eyes. Her eyes met his through his shades, and he carefully, hesitantly, raised a trembling hand to remove them, giving her full view of his eyes and all of the ways they had changed. Again she gasped, met with bright red as opposed to the brown Miguel knew she was accustomed to, and his breath hitched once more. He hoped that his eyes didn’t hold the same agony he felt, though he wasn’t sure he was so lucky; pain never was something that allowed itself to be quietly hidden away. Maybe that was another reason for the sunglasses.

Seconds ticked by, and they simply stared at one another, words drowned by terror and uncertainty that stole the air from both of their lungs, then Xina’s brows furrowed, and her eyes softened ever so slightly. She took a hesitant breath and stepped forward, reaching a hand out.

Breathless, Miguel eyed her hand and shuffled a bit back.

With a frown, Xina once more approached him, fear replaced by determination. “It’s alright,” she said, kindness in her voice, so sweet it almost felt placating, and it probably was. “It’s okay, Miguel. I’m listening now. I’m sorry I didn’t before.”

This time, he didn’t move away, but he still hesitated to take her hand.

“Come on, Miggy,” she urged. “I was just… startled. I know you’d never hurt me.” She wiggled her hand a bit, frowning at him. “I shouldn’t have called you a monster,” Xina mumbled, her voice breaking. “You’re not a monster. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Miguel.”

With an exceptional amount of gentleness, Miguel inched forward and took her hand into his. He fearfully met her eyes, all of his hurt on full display, then, “What… What did you say?”

Her eyes shone with sorrow, and she gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Miguel. I should’ve never said what I did.”

“No, not that,” he gently corrected. “The other thing.”

Xina’s head cocked to the side, then, all at once, her eyes went wide. “Miguel.”

“The f-word…” he whispered with almost reverent horror.

Laughing wetly, Xina stepped forward and used her free hand to beat against his chest. “You’re unbelievable!” Her fist came to rest against him gently, and she frowned. “Fangs, claws, red eyes, and you really haven’t changed a bit. I should’ve known.”

“I’m Spider-Man,” Miguel blurted, and Xina made a choked sound, looking back up at him.

“Alright, maybe you’ve changed a little.”

A hand came up to ghost Xina’s cheek, and he gently wiped away her silent tears. “Is that a bad thing?”

She leaned into his touch, though her eyes remained fixed on his. “I… I don’t know. Is it?”

Miguel frowned, looking away. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I’m… I’m trying to be good; better than I was before.”

“Well,” she hummed, removing her hand from his chest and placing it over the one placed on her cheek, “that’s all you can really do, I guess. For the record, I think you’re better already. The old you never would have risked his neck for someone else.” A beat. “Or apologised. Or pretended to like some twencen stuff just because I do.”

“The game was fun,” Miguel confessed.

Again, Xina hummed, a small smile on her face. “You really think so?”

“I do.”

“Well, gee, how bad of a change could you have possibly gone through, then?” she teased half-heartedly. “Seems like it gave you better taste.”

“Har, har,” he huffed sarcastically. “Very funny.”

“Who said I was joking?” Then, before Miguel could respond, “I really am sorry, you know. For calling you a monster.”

Immediately, he fixed her with a frown, averting his eyes once more as all of the hurt from before returned. “Aw, shock. And here I’d thought my sly tactic had worked this time.”

With a sad laugh, Xina patted his hand, gently pulling it away from her face and holding it down by where their other pair were still interlocked. “On me? Never.”

Miguel glanced down at their linked hands, thinking of his claws and how terrified Xina had been of them mere minutes earlier. Aaron had been terrified of them too, back when the guy had tried to kill Miguel and gotten himself killed instead, and he’d had a right to be when Miguel had shredded his skin without even realising he was doing it. How many times could one person accidentally hurt someone else before it meant that he was simply something evil and wrong; a monster.

Exhaling shakily, Miguel’s face fell, his shoulders sagging as he tried hard to keep back tears. “Well, you were right. I am.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” Xina hissed, squeezing his hands hard; enough to make him wince.

His eyes met hers again, unwavering. “Xina Kwan.”

She didn’t speak, her expression screwing up into that same withering glare she’d fixed him with earlier, but Miguel still didn’t back down.

“You said it yourself,” he retorted to her silent disagreement. “I messed with something I shouldn’t have, and now I’m here.” The next words were spat, like venom. “A monster.”

“You are not a monster,” Xina seethed once more, as unwilling to give in as he was.

It was times like these that made Miguel less grateful how stubborn she was. It was also times like these that reminded Miguel why he’d left her for Dana; though, even more strongly, why he shouldn’t have. And, really, it was times like these that actually made Miguel all the more grateful that she was, in fact, as stubborn as she was. He knew well that he’d back down before she did. He always had. As arrogant and self-absorbed as Miguel may have been, he was also a coward. Xina had never been a coward.

“Monsters are scary, Miguel,” she continued, insistent as always. “You’re hardly scary.”

Scoffing, Miguel rolled his eyes, brows furrowed. “You seemed pretty afraid of me.”

“Startled,” Xina quickly corrected. “There’s a difference. I could hardly be afraid of someone who can’t even beat me in Pac-Man.”

He laughed shortly, glancing at her with narrowed eyes. “That’s your standard?”

“For you it is,” she smirked up at him, “because it’s never going to happen.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he said.

“Thank you,” came the response.

Looking about as pleased as he felt, Miguel gave in, his head falling forward with a sigh. “You don’t even know what happened,” he mumbled. “What if that changes your mind?”

“You said it was an accident,” she said, leaning her own head forward so she could still see his eyes.

“It was,” he immediately confirmed, a little too desperately. “It was, but…” He paused, teeth gritting as he struggled to get the words out. It was difficult for him to tell if he just didn’t know what to say, or if he was too afraid to actually say it. Both options were equally as likely, and, also, equally as frustrating. “I… If I’d been smarter- If I’d just been more careful in the first place, then I never would have needed to- I wouldn’t have had to- Because I had to, Xina, I swear. Or- Or I thought I did. You have to understand that I- I didn’t want to… But if I’d just- I don’t know. If I’d done better- If I’d been better I… I wouldn’t be…”

When he trailed off for the second time, lips pursed with frustration both at his past self for everything that had gone wrong and for his current self for messing this up, too, Xina hummed and graced his hand with another comforting squeeze, forcing him to look up at her and meet her gaze with misty eyes.

“It’s okay, Miguel,” she gently assured. “You don’t have to tell me. You may have been pompous-”

“I was not pompous.”

“-but you were never stupid, do you hear me? Arrogance or not, I don’t pin you as the kind of man to mess with his genetics just for fun,” Xina conceded, and a bit of the tension left Miguel’s shoulders. Then, she huffed, smiling teasingly and clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Especially since you so clearly thought you were perfect already.”

Miguel glowered at her, though it wasn’t very intimidating with his hands still gently held by hers and eyes still red with unshed tears. “Pushing your luck with the guy with claws. Not very smart.”

“Yeah, yeah. Beat me at Pac-Man, and then try threatening me again.” She laughed, meeting his eyes with her own sparkling with empathetic grief; there was a distinct lack of fear where there had been before, and Miguel couldn’t help but to let out a small breath of relief. She must have heard it because she gripped his hand tightly once more.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” Xina repeated, firm. “It wasn’t intentional. That’s what I was really worried about. That would have been scary.” She brought their hands up between them, glancing to them and smiling. “Claws or not, you’re still the same old Miguel.”

Miguel’s eyes locked onto their hands, too, and he managed to return a small smile. The relief was both light and heavy at the same time, making his shoulders sag in exhaustion as all of the tension and adrenaline resided and left him with the familiar fatigue of the moment the fight ended and he felt safe once more. Although he’d never say it out loud – knowing well that he’d be teased for it – Miguel could firmly admit that none of the foes he’d faced as Spider-Man had ever scared him half as much as this, and, in turn, they’d never left him with half of the respite after the fact.

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day,” he murmured. “Not yet.”

“Whenever you want, Miguel,” Xina replied, genuine, then, after a beat, “I do have one question, though.”

Frowning, Miguel hesitated again.

“It’s really simple, I promise!” she reassured, shaking his hands with a bit of a laugh. “You don’t have to answer. Just hear me out.”

Only minimally soothed, he let out a long sound of dismay that ended with an exasperated, “fine. Shoot.”

Then, face beaming, Xina asked the most stupid question Miguel could have possibly thought of, “Are you a vampire?”

For a moment, he could only stare, too surprised to even remember how to show it. Then, his eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head to the side with a pointed look. “I remember you being smarter,” he deadpanned.

Finally, Xina pulled her hands out of his, raising them in surrender with a vivacious laugh. “I just had to be sure!”

“Oh, you just had to be sure. Of course,” Miguel echoed, unamused. “Well, I hope you’re satisfied with yourself, idiota.” He huffed, arms crossed over his chest.

“Quite satisfied, as a matter of fact,” she shot back, and how could he be mad when she was smiling at him like that.

Biting back a laugh, he tried harder to maintain his frown. “You’re the worst, do you know that? Just the worst.”

“Aw, come on,” she tutted. “If I’m so bad, then why were we a couple?” Xina smirked, quoting his own words from their reunion all those weeks ago.

Then, Miguel couldn’t hold back his smile anymore, returning her exact response. “Because I felt sorry for you,” he quoted. “And it bugged my dad.”

“As good of a reason as any,” she hummed, a hand resting on her hip. Then, her eyes narrowed as she seemed to realise something. “You know, I know I made fun of you for that wall crawling joke back then, but, knowing what I know now, it actually is funny.”

A short huff of surprise fell from Miguel’s mouth at the statement, and he was reminded again just how different Xina Kwan was from Dana D’Angelo; someone who certainly wouldn’t understand what had happened to him, and someone who had pushed him for the truth even when he’d begged her not to; not Xina Kwan; not the person who’d believed he could be better even when he didn’t want to be and encouraged him once he finally did. The realisation was a pleasant one – a rare moment of pure glee that he revelled in amidst all of the sorrow he’d been surrounded by as of late – and his face was overtaken by a wide smile, red eyes crinkling in joy and fangs on full display as he laughed once more.

This time, Xina didn’t even flinch, just laughing along with him.

#blaise writes #miguel o'hara #xina kwan #xinamiguel #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 comics #spider man 2099 #atsv #astv fanfiction #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #angst #i think about them so much #we never got to see xina find out that miguel was spider-man in the comics #and i think that's a travesty #but also miguel literally would have never told her #so i have to meet in the middle a little bit

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