One of the biggest problems and red flags about the whole spider society was having kids be workers for them.
Now I’m not saying the spider society shouldn’t have contacted the younger spiders or even work with them! But the spider society should function as more of a support group and emergency backup type situation for the younger spiders.
There was no reason for Margo, someone who is implied to be like Miles’s age, someone who can’t even drive, to be running an integral part of the society and how they are keeping the multiverse intact. She not only ran it, but if it malfunctioned it was clearly her job and responsibility to fix. When the machine ‘breaks’ and functions while, as far as she’s aware, no one’s in it she’s panicking, even though there would be no real consequences if she just let it run. There was no reason for Gwen, a 16 yr old, to be running around the multiverse alone going on high stakes solo missions(and that’s not even getting into the whole homeless thing). We don’t know yet what Peni’s role is but we have to assume it’s similar in nature and responsibility. That is insane.
Pav is the only one who seems to have a healthy relationship with the society, because he’s not really in it! He doesn’t know the indoctrination canon events yet, we don’t see him going off on solo missions, he gets backup when he needs it and that seems to be it.
For the kids that do know the canon events theory(Margo, Peni, Gwen) I cannot even imagine what must be going through their heads. Who else from their worlds has to die. For Peni, is her last living relative, Uncle Ben, the next person for her to lose? If Gwen returns to her world how long will it take for her dad to die? What other traumatic events have Miguel’s theory dictated will happen to them next? What horrors do they know will happen to them and their loved ones that they aren’t allowed to prevent? Is Gwen destined to die young because she’s the only Gwen we see Alive? And Gwen and Hobie, Pav’s friends, do they know that Gayatri and her dad are both destined to die? Like the mental gymnastics these kids have to go through and the mental torment that goes with it.
And then on top of it, to threaten said teenagers, who you have working for you, with being kicked out and being isolated from the people that are like and understand them is really fucked up. Especially if the threatening is because they are acting like teenagers and not soldiers. If Gwen is sent home, not only is her life put in danger but so is her father’s and they all know it. That is some culty level gaslighting and even grooming. Margo and Peni both are implied to not have good home lives either. The more you think about it the worse it gets honestly, because what goes along with this is we never see any of the adult spiders say anything about this.
Miguel and Jess both saw Gwen’s father, a grown man, try to arrest his daughter with a gun pointed at her. They save her, Jess takes her under wing(and whether they meant to or not) effectively become her guardians. They monitor her with what could essentially be a baby monitor/tracking device. They can control where she can and cannot go. And while understandable to not give a teen access to the entire multiverse they were very much giving her the adult responsibilities of protecting it.
When she does screw up, because she is a child who wants to see her friend, Jessica very flippantly references Miguel sending her home, making me think this is not the first time they’ve had that conversation, which is so worrying. And then they eventually do. They knew exactly what situation they were sending her into and not only did the entire society watch Miguel do it with little protest but didn’t even mention it afterwards. Even if Gwen was a threat they had other options, rather than sending her home, where she could still be safe.
There’s also a lot to say about how Jessica, Peter B., and Miguel handled Miles that speaks more to this pattern of behavior but that’s another post.
In the comics the ‘Spider Society’ got away with this sort of stuff, even having an actual infant just chilling with the group, because the spiders were being hunted. They couldn’t go home or leave the safe space dimension because it wasn’t safe. In the movie that is very much not the case. WHY WERE TEENAGERS WORKING FOR THE SOCIETY!?
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ROMANTIC IMAGINE: Miguel O'hara visits you when you call in sick
i know how to write things other then headcannons i swear. theyre just so EASY. you can request actual fics lmao. promise! This was intended as romantic btw, but you can interperate this however you want!
WARNING: descripion of wounds/blood, description of burns, overprotectiveness,
Miguel lands on your balcony with a heavy thump, his landing was a little awkward from trying to swing with only one hand, but he managed well enough. The Tupperware in his hand looked a little worse for wear, though.
Almost every fibre of him wanted to turn around and forget about this, but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to, he needed to know you were ok.
You had called off sick from work yesterday, and you didn't show up today either. In all the time you were working at Alchemex you’ve never done that before. The secretary had told him you sounded like you were in a lot of pain over the phone, so it was obvious you were unwell in some way or another. He’s been worried ever since.
This felt stupid. Over dramatic, even. But he’d gone to his brother for advice, and this is what he had given him: Their moms classic Pozole recipe, The same recipe him and his brother ate while growing up. Obviously Miguel protested, adamantly. he hadn’t cooked for anyone in a very long time. He wasn’t even sure if he’d still be able to… His brothers response?
“Do you want my help or not?”
So Miguel scrounged around the kitchen for what he needed. He squinted to read his mothers old chicken scratch from all those years ago. He put in the work, as uncomfortable as he felt, And He packaged it and come all the way here.
And now he didn’t know how to go forward.
He had never felt more out of his element in his life. As he Stood outside your window with the soup in his freakish claws he realised he didn’t know where to go from there. He hadn’t thought further than this point. What would he say when he gave it to you? What would he even do after that?
He had to awkwardly shimmy through the window with the Tupperware in one hand, almost stepping on a cable stretching across the floor. “Fuck—“
the hinges creaking offensively as he pushed down your open window and he cursed, shutting it as delicately as possible. When he heard your voice ring out from behind him he tensed.
“Uh, Hey Miguel!” You call from the bathroom. He breathed out the puff of air he was holding in. No turning back now.
“…Hey,” he called, not knowing where to begin. “…I brought you a little something.”
He makes his way to where he heard your voice coming from, and pauses briefly by your kitchen counter. He looks down at the soup in his hands.
…He could just leave it here, that would be less humiliating for everyone, wouldn’t it? He knew you were ok, now. He heard your voice, so you were alive. He did what he came here to do. He could turn around right now and escape while you were still in the bathroom.
But something stops him. A little smell wafted by his nose briefly. It was brief. It was faint. But it was there and it made him pause.
So he sits the soup on the counter quietly, but he doesn’t turn around. He walks further down the hall and takes a deep breathe. The smell is clearer now. Miguel gets a bad feeling.
He picks up the pace and pulls off his mask to get a better whiff, and suddenly he’s hit with the all too familiar stifling stench of blood.
No.
NO!
“Y/n!” He runs up to your bathroom door and starts rattling the handle, but the door is locked. He pauses when he hears your voice on the other side, clearer and more effective at preventing him from tearing the door off its hinges—.
“D-Don’t come in!” You yell. “I’m... ngh- I’m a bit busy in here!”
“Y/n, what do I smell?!” He doesn’t need you to tell him, He already knows the answer. It’s pungency rings clear from his side of the door. The tanginess was so prominent that even someone with normal senses could pick up on it.
“N-nothing!” You stutter. You always stutter when you’re nervous. And when you're lying.
“Are you bleeding? Where’s it coming from? Open up!” He starts banging on the door again, his fist unintentionally rattling the frame.
“You don’t smell anything- stop that!” You snapped, annoyance ringing clear. But there was a certain strain to your voice, a painful whine that made his heart drop. “I-I’m just, uh- changing! will you give me a minute? Please, Miguel.”
“Don’t lie to me! What’s wrong, can you not get to the door?” He starts backing up to gauge the frame of the door and… Yeah, he could kick that in, easily.
sensing what he was getting ready to do, you spring up from your spot hunched over on the side of the bath tub and amble to the bathroom door. “No no no!” You lean against the door, heaving. “Don’t do anything drastic, I’m right here!”
He paused and waited for you to open it, but your hesitation makes him start losing his patience. “Y/n-“
“I’m ok, Miguel. S-seriously. I just took a little tumble on the way home.” You swallow back a painful grunt as you lean on the door frame for more support. “Look…” you started. “Now’s really not a good time—“
“Y/n.”
You shut your mouth. ‘Oh, shit.’
the tone of his voice hid a warning. Miguel knew what you were going to suggest even before you said it, and he refused to let you finish. The fact that you were bleeding as much as you were for him to smell you across the house, And you were trying to hide it from him? It must be bad, there was no doubt about that. His brain began racing for answers, for explanations, for names. He didn’t know where you were hurt, god what if it was somewhere vital? Who did this to you and where? Why were you trying to hide it? Did they threaten you? Something must of happened. there was no way he would leave you here, No. There was no getting rid of him now.
“Open this door.” He says one final time. And you can tell it’s the final time from the tone of his words. His voice quaked with fury at even the mere insinuation that he’d ever leave you when you were wounded. That you were even wounded In the first place.
“Now.”
...
There’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything. And for a second he thinks he’s going to have to break the door open inwards just to avoid plowing over you to get it open. But then he hears you apprehensively turn the lock and he almost breaks the handle from how fast he rips it open.
You stumble a bit, reeling at his strength. and then youre taking a tumble from being thrown off balance, but before you can even yelp out a cry he swoops in to catch you in his arms before your body can even comes close to hitting the floor. “Lo si—! Sorry! Y/N, I’m so sorry.”
from being so close he could tell immedietely that you were running warm, did you really have a fever too? He perches you on to the toilet seat and you wince at the ache washing through your body. God, your back was killing you... and Miguel's hands were all over you. you tried pulling your arms out of his grip, but he wasn't budging. he scoured your front for bruises, cuts, anything.
"what happened, where does it hurt, Y/N, please." he lifted your arms, checking your sides. nothing there... You couldn't bring yourself to answer, all the jostling around was making you go really dizzy... so much so that his words seemed to bounce off your ears. you squint at him. were there two of him before?
"Oi, mami/papi. focus for me. tell me where your hurt." he pats your cheek, snapping you a little out of your stupor. you blinked. his faced was pulled taught with worry, lines creased his skin in places that looked almost painful. and his eyes...
"Miguel... hhhave... your eyessschanged?" you weren't sure if it was the delirium from the pain finally setting in, or if your bathroom light just highlighted the underlying hues, but his tired brown eyes had shifted to a shade of... dare you say red.
they flicked back to your face, they had this wild look in them, like he was angry. but his voice wobbled like he was scared. "tell me where the pain is."
"... M' back.." you mumbled. he tugs on your shoulder to twist you around, making you whine. he apologizes quietly, before turning back to the red stains that were crawling up the back of your shirt.
you both descended into a tense silence. Miguel looked cramped, hovering over you in your tiny bathroom. he had to draw in his arms to not knock into your shower. not the most ideal place to play nurse... but he would manage. Miguel unshealthes his talons and cuts open the fabric like its warm butter. all you feel is a cold draft hit your back, and you shudder.
when he gets a good look at the state of your back his heart drops, what he finds isn't what he was expecting. your lower back is marred with an explosion like mass of burned skin. the center of the wound is deeper and more bloody then the rest, like something fast, blunt and burning hot struck you there.
God.
"Y/N, what the hell happened?" he glances at your bathroom bin and spots your old, scorched shirt lying inside. so you really were changing... that explained why the shirt you were wearing didn't have a massive gaping hole in it.
"Lyla. whats the aetiology for this." she flickers into view next to him, screening your back, and she winces.
"the lascerations have been caused by 1st and 2nd degree burns, the wound has become infected and needs to be treated immediately. the depth of the wound is telling me that the collision was hard and fast, likely a projectile."
"they were shot?."
"most likely. not by any normal weapon though, obviously." she confirmed, "it... doesn't look like the infection has interfered with the spinal collum." she optimistically added.
"will it scar?" he tilted his head towards her, but didn't take his eyes off the wound.
the Ai assistant didn't respond, calculating the most nerve settling response to his question. her silence told him everything he needed to know. "yeah, don't answer that." a snarl was building in his throat, fighting its way to the top.
he spots the first aid bag and its contents sprawled across your counter. most of it was over the counter painkillers, light ointments and bandaids. nothing in there that would help you.
"ok." he drags his hand down his face looking around the room. "Hijo de puta-!" his fist banged against the wall in a burst of anger, the pathetic thin walls rattled underneath the force. "Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?!"
you were stuck in this apartment by yourself, barely able to move or, jesus, even think. the fact that he could have never come… No, that he had come but couldve left here without knowing you were going through this on your own... the thought made him sick. why did you let it get this bad? what had happened?
you don't answer his question, your breathing has started to grow heavier, fevered. the sheen of sweat on the back of your neck had grown thicker as well. miguel reaches out to hold you steady. his mind racing. you can't stay here.
he knows he has to make a call. literally. he lifts his watch to his face.
"Jess, get someone on the medical team to prepare for my arrival." he picks you up carefully and fights to keep his voice from rising, he wasn't thinking clearly. all he could think about was getting you somewhere safe.
it wasn't common for miguel to ask for medical assistance, even at times when he probably should. he didn't like calling for help, he prefered to do things on his own, even to his own detriment. the idea that something could shake miguel up like this, making him ask for assistance, was new. Jessica could hear the tension in his throat as clear as day.
"whats your condition." she responded, concern shining through in her voice.
"no, no. i'm fine." he answered. "i've got an injured with me, they've been shot and need first aid immedietely. its a second degree burn that been left for over 24 hours, its infected."
"...done." she answers. "are they a new recruit?"
"they're a friend."
Pozole: a traditional soup or stew that is made from hominy with meat, you can put in things like shredded lettuce/cabbage, chilli peppers, onions, garlic, radishes, avocado, salsa or limes. (this sounds scrummy ngl i'm so hungry bro)
"Lo siento": i'm sorry (this is when he goes "Lo si-" but cuts himself off)
"Oi, mami": hey, Mama (i learned that mami or mamita can be used in a lot of different ways. native spanish speakers can use it to adress parentel figures, friends that give motherly energy, or it can even be used as a funny nickname for kids. i've seen a lot of people use it sexually in fics, but apparently thats not always the case!)
aetiology: kind of like a diagnosis, but different. its the cause of a desease or condition. idk if it's applicable to wounds, though.
"Hijo de puta-!": son of a bitch-!
I put these here so if anyone has any corrections i could make to the terms I’ve used to be more accurate then I can change them accordingly. I used online translators and articles… if anyone has any good websites for translating languages let me know! i'd be really interested.
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