Spoilers for across the Spiderverse I guess.
Finally watched Across the Spiderverse and despite the spoilers and observations I'd read beforehand, I'm offended by both Spot and Miguel.
Like...to the point I don't understand why the content I came across generally really liked them? Miguel especially. FUCK Miguel. Good guy my ass. Dude has practically built a cult. And he's the unquestioned head who's word is law and doesn't have to listen to anyone just because.
I don't understand the vehement and persistent hate these 2 GROWN ASS MEN have towards a damn 14-now 15 year old boy. A goddamn child.
Both keep victim blaming and pushing and projecting their mistakes, the wrong doings of others, the plot of fucking KINGPIN onto him and I just DON'T understand. Miles literally did NOTHING wrong to get this kind of vitriol from a pair of strangers who Actually know what's up. Or that claim to anyways.
Spot over here claiming to be the scientist that made/had the spider that made Miles Spiderman. He also basically admitted to being one of the evil scientists that was under goddamn Kingpin's employ. The same Kingpin who cooked up and pressed and demanded his selfish world destroying demands be met. Yet he wants to blame the scared child who was literally only defending himself and trying to do good by helping to stop more ppl (including that family he claims he lost but had actually rejected him for reasons) don't die. Why is he not mad at his boss? Former boss? Why is he not taking responsibility for losing the spider experiment? Yet he wants credit in making the newest spiderman? Why does he want to make a literal child the root of his problem instead of literally any of the adults it could've been...like other Peter?
Only thing I can think of is that he's such a sad pathetic piece of incompetent shit that a damn (mostly)clueless child was the only target he could shift blame too and feel like he could properly threaten and win against. Only to be proven wrong and have the audacity to be offended that the child he's failing to harm doesn't take him seriously nor accept the false responsibility of his own problems he's trying to place on Miles.
And then there's Miguel's bitch ass.
Acting all knowing and despite being aware of the facts that Miles is OBJECTIVELY not at fault or aware of any problems (aside from Spot) is unnecessarily rude and hostile towards him from the very start.
And when he calms down enough to actually talk and explain some things like a rational person, it's essentially to give his own crazy (and mildly horrifying from implications cuz STALKER USURPER ALERT) sob story so he can tell a kid to let his dad be killed "because the worlds will end otherwise" and basically imply that since Miles saved Captain Singh they'll have to murder that cop to make things "right".
And then later, when he catches Miles outside after that ridiculous and hilarious chase was somehow compelled to tell this child, with words filled with (unnecessary) aggressive hate, that he's a "mistake" that shouldn't exist and should have never been spiderman.
Smells like self projecting to me.
And also, it's bullshit!
Based on what I recall from this movie I just watched, one or both of these men I can't stand is lying. Spot is claiming to be of Miles' dimension with the radio active spider but Miguel is claiming that spider is from a different dimension.
And the fact that Miguel rudely brings up more trauma, victim blames MORE, and tries to put the responsibility of a death caused by a murderous adult villain onto that same (child) victim only to later try to lament to the other spider ppl that Miles "won't listen" and "talking won't work" since he just tried it honestly put him on my character shit list.
Like I knew from spoilers that he was deemed attractive and interesting and that he didn't like this version of Miles but I didn't have like...any indepth details or whatever. I wasn't actively looking for spoilers.
I went into this movie expecting to like him, even just somewhat. But honestly? Fuck that guy. And not in a sexy way.
I mean...He immediately attempts to intimidate a child into submission upon 1st meeting for no reason after being rude as fuck while said child was trying to make a good impression and was honestly just happy to be there. And then he later tries to emotionally (and mentally?) break Miles verbally as if him loving his family, wanting his dad alive if possible is a bad thing. I had assumed, before going in that Miguel had at least started off civil and professionally polite with Miles. Figured Miles had purposely done something to his face that made Miguel go from cautious to distant. He hadn't. At all.
It's giving racist lowkey for the way he literally hates this mixed, primarily black presenting, child for existing and the way he said he wanted to just ignore/pretend that Hobie (another black male) was even there also made me raise an eyebrow. Maybe it's cuz of my own experience dealing with prejudice from ppl I least expected it from as a kid myself but Miguel is giving it and that's what I'm seeing and he's an asshat for it. He has no right and no reason to act as he did let alone say what he said. Fuck his ✨️trauma✨️ caused by his own mistakes as an adult who damn well knew better.
Mans literally stalked his own doppelganger and inserted himself into the other him's life once that one died only for it all to go to shit from glitches likely because he shouldn't have been there and what Kingpin was doing. Hell I wouldn't be surprised if he'd killed his other self to live that dream life he wanted so bad.
Yet he wants everyone to believe a child in the wrong place at the wrong time and being saved by a superhero before taking up the mantel of a hero himself in honor of his savior since shit just happened to him...in his OWN WORLD MIND YOU, is completely wrong and unacceptable.
He can miss me with that bullshit. He's wrong period in my book.
Also if Miles is considered the: "oRIgInaL anOmALy" and has been living life just fine with powers caused by a alternate dimension spider then there's probably a good chance he can change his world's "canon events" without things going to shit since according to bitchMiguel, Mile's has technically been doing that from the start by even existing.
Think about it: Miles became a spiderman with active spider ppl there to train him. He wasn't alone or even the 1st spider person there. He knew what was happening as he changed since it had happened before and was publicized. His love interest Gwen is not only from a different dimension but also spiderwoman. A civilian unrelated to him knew of him and the others and provided additional support without becoming a liability, his uncle may have died but was a criminal unlike all the (known?) others, he's had no glitch or issues with his powers, he has more powers than the basic spiderman w/o the need of a suit, he's got both parents and both love him and also think rather positively of Spiderman w/o knowing it's him. His cop dad willingly works with spiderman too.
Also am I the only one concerned that the so called sophisticated technology they have to send ppl back to their dimensions has semi regularly sent their captures back to the wrong place? Because the only thing they tried to do was stop the machine from sending him, so unless that affected the way it operates to determine where a person is from that means they probably have been sending ppl to the wrong places, unknowingly fucking shit up just as much if not more in the multiverse than b4 they tried to correct it.
I bet they're actually wrong about all kinds of things and their causes and just don't realize it.
But I am estatic Hobie is just as awesome as I was lead to believe. Watching him, listening to what he says, I firmly believe he was an op to the spider society from the start to learn what he could, try to get other spiders to THINK more, and prepare for when he decides to leave them so he doesn't need them to utilize the tools they had a monopoly on.
I mean bro made the tactical decision to quit when Miguel and others were fully distracted by Miles on some sketchy shit and I feel like that kept him from having to deal with a cult leader bitchMiguel trying to make an example out of him for doing so or something.
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Trial and Error (4)
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: Illness, Azriel's pov 👀
a/n: Someone sedate me at this point. Also I'm posting this earlier than planned because I am susceptible to peer pressure
Read part one | part two | part three | part five
Main Masterlist ♡
~~
Azriel sat at the table for breakfast, his attention occupied by the window to his right. A plate of eggs, bacon, and toasted bread sat forgotten and untouched before him. To be honest, Azriel was unsure of how it even came to be in front of him.
Cassian was saying something, the rest of the table humoring him with sleepy mumbles and raised brows. He was always so lively in the mornings, a sentiment not shared by the rest of the inner circle.
Azriel was typically one of the more responsive people, but his shadow was late today. It had been a few weeks of sending one out to check on you every night, and this one was late. The rest of them swarmed around his feet in anticipation.
“Az?” Mor’s voice had him breaking his stare from the window. “What are you looking at? You’ve been checked out all breakfast.”
Azriel cleared his throat and readjusted in his seat. “Nothing. Just distracted.”
She snorted. “That’s an understatement. You’re been distracted for weeks now. What’s been going on with you?”
“Nothing,” Azriel repeated. He picked up his fork despite his stomach protesting, the nerves twisting it to the point of unease.
“Hate to concur, Az, but you have been rather absent. I think this is the first time you’ve had a meal with us this week,” Rhysand chimed in.
From beside him, Feyre shot her mate a look.
Azriel, feeling eyes on him, glanced to his left to find Cassian leering at him with narrowed eyes. His brother leaned his head back and hooked his arm over the back of his chair, analyzing Azriel amidst his lax posture.
Azriel rolled his eyes. “What?”
With his tongue pressed into his cheek, Cassian let out a disbelieving huff. “You’re seeing someone,” he concluded. “Who is she? Why haven’t you said anything?”
“I’m not seeing anyone. Why would you come to that conclusion?”
“You answered that way too quickly to be believable.”
“Azriel, are you seeing someone? There wouldn’t be anything wrong with that,” came Mor’s soft tone—trying to play the opposite side of the coin.
“No, I—“
“He is. I know he is.” Cassian, with his assured pestering. “And don’t think I don’t notice how Rhys is being silent here. And Feyre. The only two people in the room that can read minds.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Feyre defended.
“Yeah!” Nyx yelled, quick to defend his mother. “Nothing!”
But Nyx’s interference only made Cassian turn his attention to the small child and knock his head to the side.
“Nyx—“ Cassian began. In response, Nyx shoved a fork full of eggs into his mouth. “Azriel’s been taking you to school an awful lot, hasn’t he?”
“Mmhmm,” Nyx nodded.
“And he’s been going to all of your school events?”
Nyx nodded again, this time with a mouthful of juice.
“Does Azriel talk to anyone when he’s at your school?”
“He talks to Ms. Fern.”
Cassian let out a barking laugh and turned back to Azriel with a wide grin. “Ms. Fern? Okay, Az, if that’s what does it for you. You should bring her to the house.”
Although he felt an immense pride for Nyx keeping his secret (because Nyx had seen him talking to you countless times) a strange, hot anger licked at the bond hanging loose in his chest.
He wasn’t seeing Ms. Fern. The reasonable part of his mind told him that it was better this way, you would feel safer, but the unreasonable side wanted to knock Cassian across the room.
You were so much better than Ms. Fern. The teacher didn’t “do it for him” and never would. It was insulting to you.
Azriel ground his teeth. He knew this reaction was more borne from the fact his shadow hadn’t returned and the worry he was feeling was paralyzing, but reasoning with himself did nothing.
“I will not be—“
Sick, sad, help.
A whisper at his ear made Azriel rein in his words.
Alone, alone, alone.
Azriel snapped his head to the side to find his missing shadow whisking down to join the rest, the hoard of them now rising to leave. To get to you, he realized. He had to—
“What is it?” Rhysand asked.
Azriel could feel his talons scratch along the barrier of his mind, but there was no time to let Rhysand hear what he’d heard. In one fluid motion, Azriel was up from the table and out of the house, his wings spread wide behind him as he flew to the outskirts of Velaris where you resided.
One of the first things he would suggest after he got you to trust him was for you to move.
He’d already reinforced your locks and checked your neighbors, but you were still so far and that side of Velaris wasn’t the best.
He’d ask you to move into the House of Wind, but he knew that’d be pushing it. Obviously.
His back ached as he pressed his wings further, desperate to make it to you. He flung his body one way and then the other to dodge buildings as he went, flying low to save time. Luckily, the streets were barren this early.
But it wasn’t early enough for your shop to be closed, an all too alarming fact when faced with the “closed” sign on the front door. He yanked on the knob anyways, but the door wouldn’t budge.
He cursed himself for ensuring their stability.
He started knocking next—soft at first and then with a blistering urgency. He knocked and knocked and was moments away from flying up to your window and possibly scaring you off for good when the door wrenched open.
You looked beyond disheveled, bone-tired, and frankly gaunt as you stared up at him with an incredulous gaze. Your gaze softened a fraction when you saw it was Azriel beating down your door, but a tinge of irritation remained hazing your eyes.
“Azriel, we’re closed for—”
“Are you okay?” he rushed out.
Since the open house, Azriel had been more open with his vies to take care of you. If he were being honest, the intrinsic need to protect you and Melanie was overwhelming and he was barely scratching the surface of all he wanted to do, but you became guarded any time he got too intense. So, he walked you home and asked you about your family and he didn’t care if he got a stonewall in response.
But right now, you did not look well.
Right now, there was no Melanie peaking behind your legs as you stood at the apothecary door.
So, right now, Azriel didn’t have a mind to be subtle.
“Where is Melanie? Are you hurt?” he asked before you could formulate a response.
He watched your knuckles pale as you gripped the door. You breathed in deeply. “Mel has been sick all night. I’m not sure what it is and I’ve been trying everything. I’m about two seconds away from calling a healer but…”
Azriel knew that tell—the way your eyes shifted and your expression pinched.
More people.
Anytime you were confronted with introducing more people into Melanie’s life, you crumbled.
“Let me come see her,” Azriel requested, the tension leaking from his voice into a softer tone. Now that he knew the two of you weren’t dying, there was some relief. Some.
You shook your head, pressing your lips into a firm line as you deflated. “I don’t want to get you sick. I think I'm already a lost cause, but you—you have important things to do.”
If only you knew how important you were to him.
Azriel felt his fists clench at the defeated look in your eye. “If you’re sick, you can’t take care of her. Just let me come in. Let me help, y/n.”
“Azriel…”
“Please. Let me take care of you.”
He wanted to take the words back as soon as they left his mouth, afraid of you drawing back in fear, but they were already lingering in the space between you. Azriel decided you must have been truly exhausted because your only reply was a pained sigh followed by your door swinging open to let him in.
You didn’t even send him a sidelong glance.
Azirel’s hand twitched as he followed you up the stairs to your apartment, the urge to press his fingers along your back stifling.
One step at a time, Azriel—you were only just letting him into your house.
Any examination of your apartment abruptly halted as soon as his feet met the threshold of the sitting room. Melanie was lying on the couch looking worse for wear with a cloth along her forehead and a flush to her cheeks that did not sit well with the Shadowsinger. His chest caved in at the sight, a feeling that intensified when her small voice filled the space.
“Mr. Azriel?” she croaked, attempting to lift her head. You rushed over to press her back down, running your fingers through her hair. “He’s always at my house,” Melanie said, turning to look at you. “Always.”
You let out a breathy laugh as Melanie shut her eyes and began to softly snore against the arm of the loveseat. Azriel’s shadows rushed to the girl and brushed against her forehead and arms, offering the cool wind they provided.
In a few steps, Azriel took a knee beside you. He looked at you first—at the way you hovered over your daughter with furrowed brows—and then let his gaze wash over Melanie. Against his better judgment, he wrapped his scarred fingers around her tiny hands.
No poison, his shadows reported, although he didn’t expect it to be. She was feverish, hadn’t eaten since last night, couldn’t keep anything down; it was rare for fae to get so sick, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t concerning.
Even more worrisome was the fever emanating from you. Azriel could feel the heat on his shoulder and he could tell you hadn’t stopped to rest.
“I know a healer that can help. She wouldn’t say anything to anyone,” Azriel said after a beat of silence.
You paused your fingers in Melanie’s hair. “Do you promise?”
The sickness had worn you down, taking the fight and fear right out of you.
“I promise on everything. I wouldn’t bring someone here that wasn’t safe.”
Azriel called Majda.
Majda arrived in a few minutes, much to your surprise. Azriel had gotten the door upon her knock, his eyes catching the way your knees shook as you went to stand.
Majda kneeled in front of the couch where you and Azriel once were, her healing magic lighting up the room. Behind her, Azriel stood with you and he watched.
He watched your worried brow and the way you picked at your fingers. He watched the flush on your face get worse and worse as your daughter’s illness gradually got you sicker. He watched the way you tracked each of Majda’s movements, ready to jump in at a moment’s notice.
He watched your body shake as it held you up.
He watched his mate and saw how alone you were.
Azriel reached up and tucked a hair behind your pointed ear, using the ploy to feel for the temperature on your cheek. You turned to look up at him and he felt the way his expression strained.
“You should let her look at you too,” he said, voice low and calm.
You shook your head. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”
“You aren’t.”
You turned back to your daughter, looking on.
Azriel no longer cared for the farce he’d been putting on. He stepped closer and let his palm rest on the small of your back if only to support you from collapsing. He saw you glance at him from the corner of your eye, but you made no move to step away.
It took Majda 13 minutes to come to a conclusion. Azriel knew that because he had been counting.
“Well, first of all, she will be okay. As will you, as I see you may have the same illness,” the older healer spoke, rising from the ground with a grunt. “It is most unusual—what ails you. Do you have Autumn's blood?”
The fingers you had pressed to your mouth were abruptly dropped. You looked up to Azriel with panic in your eyes, a question clear in your expression.
He hadn’t known where you were from, but he had guessed, and you were looking at him as if he knew—as if he knew and you wanted to know if it was safe for the healer to know as well.
Azriel nodded his head and ignored the bittersweet feeling in his chest.
He had wanted you to tell him when you were ready.
“Yes,” you uttered, shaking your head much faster than you spoke. “We both are. Is that—does that have something to do with it?”
Majda offered you a thin smile. “You have Autumn fever. Something to do with the fire that lingers in your blood. Sometimes it does not align with the other courts and your body revolts. It will pass in a few days as most. Uncomfortable bugger to be sure, but nothing that cannot be managed.”
You sagged against Azriel in relief, the shadowsinger catching your weight as your knees buckled. He pulled you closer to his front but didn’t feel complete until he guided you back to the couch and leaned over Melanie as she slept.
“She’ll be okay?” you asked.
Azriel thought the question was for Majda, but when he looked to his side you were staring directly at him, fear and fever in your gaze.
He lost his breath and captured your face in his hands. “She’ll be okay,” he assured. You were so hot against his skin. “You will too. I’ll fix it.”
Something righted in your expression—something softened. For the first time since he entered your house, you let out a full breath and allowed your eyelids to drop. It was barely thirty seconds before your head fell as well, your forehead landing on Azriel’s collarbone. He trailed his hand up to rest against your hair and placed his other on Melanie’s knee as he stayed beside the couch.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Shadowsinger,” Majda crooned. “That’s a whole lot of responsibility. A lot of secrets.”
Azriel tightened his hold on you. “Do you have herbs that would help? To lessen fever or pain?”
Majda hummed. “I will leave a few.” A pause. The floorboards creaked as Majda went to make her exit. “Heed my words, Azriel.”
“I know what I’m doing—what I’m getting myself into.” He dropped his nose to your temple, listening to your breath as you slept. His shadows continued their mission of cooling Melanie’s feverish skin.
“Do you?”
Azriel considered the question, and no, he didn’t know.
But he couldn’t find it within himself to care.
part five
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