NO WAY HOME SPOILERS

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SPOILERS AHEAD ‼️‼️‼️

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just rewatched no way home since I saw it in theaters. Love the movie I just can’t handle that much emotional wreckage at a time

As a lifelong Spiderman fan who loved the comics as a kid, spent so many hours watching the different movies, and just loving the character, No Way Home was something that has left me speechless. I will never forget the experience of watching that in the theater. Incredible.

Who Are You, Really? || Chapter 2

Pairing: (any) Peter Parker x Reader

WARNINGS: Blood, violence

Words: 2,069

Masterlist

CHEMICAL REACTIONS

There’s a silent squeaking of shoes against the polished floor which is already difficult to avoid on a normal day let alone one where New York’s been plagued with heavy rain. While it’s annoying to the ears, the group votes to ignore the sound in favor of making quick work of their robbery.

Four men wheel off barrels filled with chemicals down to their truck which is parked on the lowest level. At least four of their buddies’ act as lookouts, although, the group has already tied up three security guards who have since been forced to sit in the corner of the parking garage, their mouths gagged with duct tape.

The leader of the group is a tall gruff man with a belt of bottles attached to his hip. He must be feeling pretty confident with their work because he’s been sitting at one of the lab tables for about eleven minutes now, playfully mixing different chemicals and metals while his colleagues do all the heavy lifting. It almost makes Spiderman smirk under his mask, watching the show from his perch in the corner of the ceiling.

“I wouldn’t mix those two chemicals if I were you,” the men jump when Spiderman finally speaks after noticing the leader pick up two bottles, one with a clear liquid inside and other with chuckles of silver metal,“ that’s dilute sulfuric acid and sodium metal. One’s a reducing agent oxidized to sodium ion while the other’s an oxidizing agent that reduces hydrogen ions to hydrogen gas. Mix them together and the sodium will melt to the surface with an explosion to follow which, honestly, isn’t going to feel too good if you’re within range-ACK!”

He doesn’t get to finish his knowledgeable chemistry explanation before being forced to jump off the ceiling when the four men draw their guns, firing rapidly at the hero who effortlessly dodges their attempts.

“Not fans of chemistry I take it? Then what’s with all the chemicals you’re stealing? Helping your kids with a science fair project?” Rolling upon his landing, he swiftly webs two of the men’s hands and guns to the wall then shots a web directly in the face of another. While the man fruitless attempts to pull the sticky substance off, he’s suddenly roundhouse kicked into the counter which causes several beakers to crash on the floor. The last man lunges forward, swinging a fist at the back of the hero’s head, only for said fist to be caught midair. Within seconds, the man is flipped onto his back and webbed to the ground by his arms.

With the four goons taken care of, Spiderman finds himself facing the leader alone,“ come on man, you should really put those bottles down. You’re not even wearing goggles and that’s, like, the one rule science teachers care about.”

“Gladly,” the leader growls, throwing the bottle of acid towards Spiderman who jumps onto the ceiling light, quickly leaping to a further end of the room when the bottle of sodium metal is thrown soon afterwards. There’s only about three seconds in between the sound of breaking glass and a loud ‘pop’ that sends sparks of acid across the room, some of which hits one of the criminals who had been lying next to the counter.

The leader shows no concern over his subordinate’s screams of agony, merely flashing a toothy grin when stepping forward and selecting two bottles from his belt,“ you’re not the only one who knows your chemicals, Spidy-boy.”

He tosses the bottles towards the hero, resulting in sparks flying. Spiderman uses the hanging lights to swing himself around the room, dodging each explosion which will no doubt leave burn marks and fire damage all over the once polished floors. The biggest explosion occurs when the man grabs three bottles of a dark metal, a clear liquid, and a white powder. When he throws them under his target, they ignite, creating an awfully loud 'bang’ that shakes the walls and shatters the lab’s main window.

“Okay, first of all, it’s Spiderman,and secondly, throwing chemicals around like a toddler doesn’t mean you 'know chemicals’, only that you don’t know proper lab safety. Let’s review the basics, shall we?” He lodges himself at the leader, landing a punch to his face. Wobbling backwards from the force, the man drops a few bottles, some of the clear liquid splashing against his legs in the process,“ avoid skin and eye contact with all chemicals.”

He shouts in pain, but is cut off when Spiderman grabs the fire extinguisher kept on the side of the lab table, spraying the white foam to cover the man’s vision quicker than he can react,“ always know the location of fire extinguishers-”

Finally, using a web as support on the ceiling, Spiderman swings and kicks the man’s chest, sending him flying back into a small glass room mere few away. With another web, he makes sure to glue the dazed criminal in place before very casually walking over to pull the hanging handle which causes water to begin pouring from the sprout above, drenching the man,“-and the laboratory showers.”

“You fuc-” The man goes to growl but is shut up with a web to the mouth.

“No cursing either,” Spiderman smirks, leaning on his elbow against the wall beside the shower station,“ that’s not actually a lab rule, just a personal one. Can’t be a friendly neighborhood Spiderman while having a sailor’s mouth, y’know?”

He looks away, listening to the sound of growing sirens rather than the leader’s muffled shouts. Waltzing over to the broken window, Spiderman gazes down to see the street’s already lighting with blue and red, an army of police officers rushing in through the front doors.

“Well gentlemen, I’d love to stick around and continue educating you on proper lab safety, but I’m already late for dinner. Maybe we’ll get a chance to pick up where we left off once you’re, y’know, out of jail for burglary and destruction of property charges,” sending a halfhearted salute towards the group of criminals, Spiderman takes his leave through the window, swinging off with a proud yet tired smile hidden under his mask.

Eight hours; that’s how long he’d been patrolling the streets before noticing the shine of flashlights inside Oscorp. Eight hours on top of a nearly six-hour school day is exhausting even with superhuman endurance, but luckily for Peter, tomorrow is Saturday meaning he can actually sleep in for as long as he wants for once. In such a tired state, he could easily get lost in daydreams about a microwaved dinner and his soft bed, but the ideas are dismissed when an all too familiar feeling pierces through his senses.

The world seems to slow around him, his anxiety beating against his chest while his eyes dart around wildly to the tops of the buildings surrounding him. He can hear droplets of rain hitting concrete, splashing into even smaller particles which add to the thin layers of water covering New York. There’s also the sound of voices below, most people cursing the weather while some run after taxis in which stir up calm rain puddles and break the gentle atmosphere with their annoyed honking. Then he hears the whirling of metal-

-Suddenly maneuvering his body to the right, he uses a web to pull himself downward off course and away from the blade that shines with his reflect like a mirror mere centimeters above his head. Shooting another web, he makes a sharp turn at the corner, looking back in terror at his attacker who hangs off the side of a building, watching him through silver goggles, however, he doesn’t get much more time to take in their appearance. In seconds, a wire is sent flying past him, hooking onto another building which allows them to lunge forward at a blurring speed, their blade already pulled back and ready to swing.

Peter moves to dodge their next attack, but can do nothing when they predict his counter, somehow switching the direction of their swing faster than even his Spider sense can keep up. He hisses in pain from the feeling of metal being dragged across his stomach, cutting deeper than any other weapon has before. They look ready to swing again when he shots a web behind himself, heading backwards then around a few more buildings in a poor attempt of losing the attacker.

With one hand clenching the wound, Peter doesn’t dare look down at the damage, knowing by the way his face feels stuck in a scrunched-up expression of pain that it’s bad. His mind races with other thoughts, having never seen this person before nor has he heard of any villain who uses a type of grappling hook system somewhat similar to his webs-

-He feels his heart skip another beat when remembering the conversation he had overheard earlier this week between the newspaper club kids, more important, what he had heard Josh say. The Night Ripper, an infamous assassin armed with a blade made of vibranium…Could this be them?

Looking back, Peter sees no one on his trail and, for a moment, he feels relieved to think he might’ve succeeded in losing them, however, he should’ve been smarter than to trust such a notion.

Right as he comes around the next building, he spots the blur returning in the corner of his eyes, but this time, he puts his bloody hand up, desperately shooting a web into their face which throws them off guard. Despite jerking their head back in surprise, they still swing their sword blindly, cutting the web Spiderman hangs onto which sends him tumbling down towards the street while they land upon the nearest rooftop.

With irritation, the Ripper attempts to tug off the sticky webbing from their goggles to no avail. Upon realizing the substance can’t be removed so easily, they push the goggles onto their forehead, revealing their narrowed (e/c) that hold a poisonous anger in them.

Meanwhile, Spiderman uses a single web to swing himself towards an ally, crashing against the ground, although, such pain’s nothing compared to the burning of his stomach which is becoming too much to handle.

Clenching his side, he looks down at his torn suit at last, his head feeling dizzy at the sight of blood oozing from the gaping wound across his midsection. Sure, he’s gained plenty of wounds that have require stitches before, but nothing like this. It hurts…

With teary eyes and a shaky hand, Peter lifts his mask up to breathe easier before slowly pushing himself to sit upright. He lets out a cry at the feeling of his gloved hand rubbing against the raw injury which is deeper than he originally considered. It hurts so damn bad…

There’s a quiet 'thud’ that meets his ears, making his heart leap. Ever so slowly, he raises his head to the top of the buildings surrounding the ally. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of the Night Ripper who stands in all their glory in the shine of moonlight, staring down at him with a drawn blade.

Peter’s lip quivers from both the pain and fear he feels when meets those dull (e/c) eyes that stare down at him harshly. He’s afraid to move under that look, his jaw clenching and body tensing in preparation to fight for his life in a way he’s never done before. Is this what all the Night Ripper’s victims felt like before their deaths? But Peter can’t die here! He doesn’t want to die!

Then, for some strange reason beyond Peter’s own belief or understanding, those (e/c) eyes that once held a storm of fury soften. Within a blink of his own eyes, theirs become human, showing an emotion he can’t quite put his finger on even if he tired.

As if that isn’t strange enough, in complete contrast to his expectations, the Ripper doesn’t leap down from their post to finish their job. Instead, they hesitate to take a step back, remaining still for a second longer before suddenly jumping down the other way with the sound of their grapples hitting the air soon afterwards. Where most people would be crying with relief at such a point, Peter is left frozen with confusion, his mind continuing to race maybe even more than it had before.

The Night Ripper is a perfect assassin…A one solider army who can and will eliminate anyone they’re told to without sparing a soul…so why did they just spare Spiderman?

NEXT CHAPTER {Coming Soon}

Who Are You, Really? || Chapter 1

Pairing: (any) Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 1,696

Masterlist

WHERE’S THE BLAME

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The alarm refuses to understand how annoying it is, continuing to make Peter’s ears bleed until he finally throws in the towel first with a groan, his fist slamming down over the device with more pressure than it can take. The plastic shatters, sending tiny wires and pieces of chip across the bedstand which only draws another groan from the teen.

He’d continue to lie there curled in his cocoon of blankets all morning if not for that math exam he has during second period and Aunt May’s current calls from the other room,“ Peter, what are you doing?! You’re going to be late!”

Seeing that he no longer has a good o’ digital clock, he blindly slaps his hand across the bedstand before rolling onto his back with his cracked phone now in hand. From there, he tiredly blinks open his eyes just enough to see the glowing numbers on the screen, checking to see just how long he’s laid there after destroying his actual alarm clock.

“SHIT!” The covers of his bed are thrown into the air, drifting back down to the bed that’s he’s already leapt out of. Rushing around his mess of a room, he begins a desperate scavenger hunt for all the items that he requires for school. Textbooks, pencils, backpack, Spiderman mask, camera…He puts his hand on the doorknob before throwing his head back and spinning his heel. Shirt and pants! Can’t forget a shirt and pants; no one wants to see his boxers in first period Spanish!

“PETER!”

“I’M COMIN’, AUNT MAY!” He stumbles around, using one hand to help guild on his pants while the other stuffs school supplies in his bag. Using a web, he grabs the first shirt he sees on the floor, giving it a single sniff to decide if it’s clean enough for the day. A little smelly, but it’ll fine.

Once running into the kitchen, he hastily sends an apology to May while selecting an apple from the fruit basket. She, of course, takes instant notice to his bedhead and the wrinkles in his clothing,“ did you just wake up? Peter, how late did you stay awake? I wear I heard you up at midnight!”

Peter stiffens at her questions which confirms that he had, as previously worried, been a little too loud crawling through the window last night. It’s not his fault he tripped over his skateboard in his tired state…okay, so maybe itis his fault for not cleaning his room, but he would’ve gotten home earlier if not for that gang of bank robbers leading him on a high-speed chase through Manhattan! …Not that May ever needs to know he was hanging off the back of an armored truck yesterday.

“Sorry if I woke you up, May. I, um…I was studying late for my math exam. Yeah, I’m super nervous for it so I should get to school right now before I’m late. I love you, see you later!” Not allowing her any more time to question or scold him further, he throws out each word at a speed she can barely understand while pressing a kiss to her cheek for good measure.

After that, he’s out the door, sprinting to school without any intention of slowing his stride thanks to his increased stamina. He effortlessly dodges each pedestrian that moves in front of his path, weaving through the crowded sidewalks of Queens while reviewing possible exam questions in his head and occasionally taking bites out of the apple he’d be heartbroken to drop.

Of course, while Peter may be incredibly smart and focused when desired, he can also hold the attention span of a fruit fly, therefore, it should be no surprise that his run slows to a jog then an amble when spotting a bustling newspaper stand in which overflows with familiar red and black papers.

Many purchasers remain hovering beside the stand, hands occupied by newspapers as they mumble gossip to themselves which hints to Peter that the headline must be an interesting one. He’s quickly proven correct when managing to push pass the inconsiderate readers and catch a glance at the bold white headline:

NEW YORK’S KILLER! SPIDER-MAN’S TURNING TO EXCESSIVE FORCE! CIVILIANS BEWARE!

Peter spares a careful glance at the people surrounding him with furrowed eyebrows. Excessive force? Alright, so last night he webbed three guys to a wall and left the other two hanging upside down from a streetlight, but that’s not excessive, is it? He didn’t even land a direct punch on any of them, and they were shooting at him! What’s Jameson want him to do; stand there and just get shot?!…Okay, so don’t answer that last question.

While it might not be the wisest move to reward the Daily Bugle for spreading rumors, curiosity gets the best of Peter, leading him to purchase a newspaper to examine himself during his continued his route to school. Despite the obvious challenge behind reading and trying not to run into people at the same time, he manages to unveil the company’s latest ridiculous allegation about him, one that make his blood boil.

Osin Yousaf, leader of the Selvaggi gang that Peter had stopped the previous night, had been found dead earlier this morning after the police had received some anonymous tip. Regardless of a complete lack of actual evidence left at the crime scene, the Daily Bugle claims that the nonexistent ‘evidence’ points towards Spiderman having killed Yousaf all because of the bank robbery earlier that night. The newspaper even tops the article off by giving a warning for civilians to be careful in case Spiderman begins using excessive force against them, too.

Of course, it’s all completely outlandish. While Peter’s had several run-ins with Yousaf and his crew, he hadn’t seen the gang leader since they split up last night, both flooring it in different directions which had forced Peter to pick only one group to pursue. Even if he had seen Yousaf, there’s no way he would’ve killed him because Spiderman doesn’t kill people. That’s his number one rule!

Unfortunately for Peter, the newspaper claims had only been the start to his bad day. From being marked tardy in Spanish to the realization that he’s forgotten his history homework, poor Parker’s mood has been thrown in the gutter by the time lunch break rolls around and that group of six or so students sitting exactly one table in front of him aren’t making things better.

Peter rolls his eyes the second he hears one girl bring up the Daily Bugle’s latest report, asking for her friends’ opinions on Spiderman becoming violent. While most of the teens seem to agree on how unsettling it is and worry the police won’t doing anything about it, there’s only one person who immediately shoots down the preposterous idea.

“You guys are kidding me, right? Spiderman did not kill that guy,” even Peter raises his head, his face covered with crumbs from the cold grilled cheese sandwich he’s been miserably eating, not that there’s another way to eat school lunch even on the best of days.

“And what makes you so sure?”

“I could ask you the same question. Did you not read the details of the body’s condition? The guy’s hand had been cut clean off and he had a single, yet perfect stab wound that went right through his spine and out the other end! There’s no way Spiderman’s capable of something like that! The guys a pacifist looser!” Alright, so that one hurt, but Peter bites his tongue, having learned a long time ago that the more he inserts himself in conversations about Spiderman, the more suspicious people grow.

“Then who else would’ve done it? Seems like too big of a consequence for the guy to be involved in a crime Spiderman stopped then end up dead all in the same night!” One girl argues, causing the boy, who shares at least two classes with Peter and is named Josh, to lean back in his chair with crossed arms.

“The Night Ripper,” he says it so casually, peeking Peter’s unnoticed interest.

“The Night Ripper’s just a legend-” The girl goes to roll her eyes, but Josh sits up straight, the chair legs hitting the ground which a 'clink’.

“-No, they’re real! I did a project on them for my web design class. They say the Night Ripper’s a perfect assassin hired by the world’s most elite criminals. Armed with a blade made of vibranium, they’re like a one soldier army, eliminating everyone and anyone they’re told to while never sparing a soul. Think about it! It would make total sense for the Ripper to kill that Yousaf guy especially if he was involved in something bigger than a simple bank robbery!” Josh is beaming at his own point, eagerly waiting for his friends to agree with praises of how clever he is. Alas, the table only breaks out in laughter.

“You and your damn stories, Josh. Where’d you do your research? Wikipedia?”

“Wikipedia has a surprising number of good sources. Teachers just tell you not to use it because they like to make our lives miserable!” He attempts to defended himself, his face growing red with embarrassment over his friends’ laughter,“ I’m telling you, there’s something big going on in New York and all these gang related crimes are related to it! So is the Night Ripper! They had to have been the one to kill that guy, not Spiderman!”

While his friends continue to wave off his claims, Peter can’t help but hang onto Josh’s theory, making a mental note of the name. 'Night Ripper’, huh? A spooky name, he guesses, but all villains these days have some type of weird gimmick.

If this 'Ripper’ person really does exist and is behind Yousaf’s death, then they must be some type of big shot like Josh said considering the body’s condition in which the Daily Bugle made a point of detailing as violent. While a lot of questions can be asked about the Night Ripper, there’s one in particular that tumbles around in Peter’s mind: if the Night Ripper is working for elite criminals and is somehow connected with the rising gang violence in New York, just how long will it take until they cross paths with Spiderman?

NEXT CHAPTER ➡️

Who Are You, Really? || Prologue

Pairing: (any) Peter Parker x Reader

WARNINGS:Blood, violence, implied death

Words: 1,333

Masterlist

THE PAIN IN CRIME’S BEHIND

“Following a high-speed chase through lower Manhattan, five of the suspects were finally apprehended by none other than the masked hero, Spiderman. Law enforcement has taken the five into custody where they have been charged with robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, and attempted manslaughter with more charges still pending. The Chief of Police would like to remind the public that at least four other suspects are still on the run. If you have any information on the individuals seen in the provided surveillance videos, you are urged to call the following number-”

The horrid static of the old TV only ceases once it’s shut off midway through the reporter’s sentence, yet the man remains frozen in place with a same shameful bow of his head. His eyes are glued to the ground, his hands rubbing nervously against his pant leg as if trying to wipe off a stubborn stain of dirt. He isn’t brave enough to so much as glance at the woman who stands before him with crossed arms and a glare colder than liquid hydrogen.

She doesn’t say anything for a good minute or two since turning off the report which acts as an impressive intimidation method, one that dares the man to break the silence first in order to further fuel her anger. Even when he doesn’t make that mistake, she still moves on with business with a fuming shout.

“Do you realize how much shit you’ve put the organization in!” It isn’t meant as a question despite her used format,“ a police chase through Manhattan? You were supposed to be on a stealth mission! Get the money and disappear before anyone notices! You didn’t even try to be inconspicuous!”

“We tried to be subtle, ma'am, but then Spiderman showed up and one thing led to another. The alarms got tripped, Robbie and the others got webbed up, we…we went one way and the others got captured by Spiderman…there…there was nothing we could do,” the man’s voice grows quieter with each spoken word, his nerves slowly being ingested by the rageful look he receives. He should’ve known from the moment he opened his mouth that no excuse could be good enough to soften his current situation.

“Maybe I’m not an expert in the matter, but if it only takes one itsy bitsy spider to crush you, then I’d say you aren’t exactly cut out for this line of work, wouldn’t you agree?” The woman hisses, the man opening his mouth to further argue for his case, but he isn’t granted the pleasure,“ the boss is furious, I’ll have you know. This is the third job this month that you’ve messed up all because of that Spider.”

“I-I understand, ma'am, but I promise you, this was our last mistake! We will succeed for sure next time; I swear it on my life!” The man feels a small sense of relief when the woman turns on her heel away from him, but it’s short lived.

“Unfortunately, there won’t be a next time, Yousaf,” she says it causally while digging through her purse on the table, finally plucking out the phone she searched for. Her voice is now much calmer compared to what it had been just a few seconds prior,“…you see, Spiderman has become quite the nuisance as of lately and our boss is tired of having his toes stepped on, so he’s decided to take a new approach to the issue; a more appropriate measure for our desperate times.”

Yousaf shallows the lump in his throat, feeling that he might choke,“ has he…?”

A chill runs down his spine when a quiet ‘thud’ hits his ears from behind. Unlike the woman who continues to stare down at her device in a bored manner, Yousaf spins around to the sound’s source, his heart nearly stopping his chest.

Despite the dark goggles and mask that cover their face, it takes him no time at all to recognize the person who promptly stands from where they had landed on the ground mere feet behind him, unpretentiously sauntering over to join the two.

“Yousaf, I believe you’ve met (L/n), right? Well, I say 'met’, but I’m sure the two of you have never actually spoken to each other. 'Seen’ would be a more fitting word, wouldn’t it?” At last, the woman glances up from her phone, the corner of her lip tugging upwards into a cruel smirk,“ the boss has decided it’s best to finally utilize our little (L/n) out in the open field since, as I’m sure you’re aware, she has a perfect record comparable to an entire gang. With that said, there really won’t be much point in wasting time and patience in keeping you employed with us anymore.”

“H…Huh?” It’s all he can say through his shocked state.

“Of course, despite your own incompetence, some of your employees show great promise in which the boss plans to put to good use under (L/n)’s command. I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s an excellent choice, really.”

“But what about me?!” The shock finally wares off, replacing itself with vexation,“ what am I going to do!? I have a family to provide for! I need this job!”

“That’s none of our concern anymore,” the woman shrugs while turning back to her purse to put her phone away, but Yousaf isn’t having it. Throwing his common sense out the window, he lets his fury take over instead, a complete contrast to the submissive behavior he usually shows towards his higher ups.

“BULLSHIT-!” He takes one step forward, reaching his hand out to grab the woman’s shoulder, but within a blink of an eye, an agonizing pain is sent through his arm, ripping a scream from his lungs.

Throwing himself back in terror, he only manages to trip over his own feet, but the pain of the cement ground proves far less harrowing than that surrounding his wrist. Lacking the ability to think clearly, he makes the mistake of glancing down at his hand, or at least, where his hand should’ve been attached.

Another scream rattles through the room yet the woman only spares a tired glimpse over her shoulder, humming at gory sight that greets her eyes,“ my, you’re just a walking disaster anymore, aren’t you Yousaf? I’d figure you to have at least a decent amount of intelligent, but I guess this is an even better choice for the company that I originally thought…

"I trust you’ll be fine cleaning everything up on your own. I have a meeting across town and would hate to get blood on my skirt,” after receiving a wordless nod from you, she swings her purse over her shoulder before going to take her leave, however, as she walks past him, Yousaf reaches out shakily with his remaining hand, grabbing hold of her leg.

“…P-Please…I-I d-don’t wanna die-die here!”

“An orders and order, Yousaf, but don’t worry. I heard (L/n) is very quick with her work,” the woman effortlessly lifts her leg from his grip, shaking her head in disappointment at the sight of the bloody handprint that now stains her stockings.

Her heels create a sharp clicking pattern against the ground which does nothing to echo out the cut off scream left in her wake; not that she pays it any mind anyways. Instead, she taps away at her phone while waiting patiently right outside the warehouse despite the driver of a black Mercedes-Bez holding the vehicle’s door open for her mere feet away.

“Don’t worry yourself with the body. He wants it to be a message to anyone else who’s thinking of slipping up,” she explains dully once feeling your presences,” I’ll assume you already understand your next target. The boss has given you the freedom to take down Spiderman in any method you see fit. No one cares how messy it gets, just get it done.“

She barely spares you a glance as you coolly clean the blood off your sword with an already stained towel, your goggles glowing in the shine of the streetlights,” of course, ma'am.“

NEXT CHAPTER ➡️

me after seeing spider-man: no way home

i apologise in advance

if you want to know what going to a midnight showing of spider-man: no way home felt like, just imagine

x 450 marvel fanatics