richiekirschs - Tumblr blog

[richiekirschs]

just wanted to say that i urge everyone to continue to sigh petitions and call for action from their leaders! the palestinian people feel that the world has failed them and rightfully so. continue to go to protests. continue reblogging and sharing information. it will not damage your ‘aesthetic’ nor will it it ‘clog the dashboard’. we are not doing enough.

for my us citizens we need demand ceasefire by calling the white house.

the line is 202-456-1111 & for the congressional switchboard 202-224–3121

going to leave these here too.

how to email the congress if you are a US citizen

links that include pre-written emails to contact congressional representatives

petition for ceasefire

petition for ceasefire (UK)

petition for ceasefire (UK)

email your rep (UK)

email your rep (UK) (2)

email your rep (AU)

email the congress in your country

call the congress for ceasefire (US)

demand a ceasefire now

petition demanding ceasefire (AUS)

demand ceasefire (CANADA)

email your reps for ceasefire (CANADA)

sign this petition (FRANCE)

sign this petition (SWEDEN)

sign this petition

how to email your local MP (CANADA)

if you are a us citizen text “ceasefire” to 51905 and you’ll receive a prompt to contact your congressional rep. demand a ceasefire.

mind you i’m not from the us or the uk but i was able to fill out the info and email the reps. you don’t have to be from the us or the uk to do this as well.

how i did it: first it asks to find your local rep. i just typed in cities within the UK and clicked on locations until i found a rep which in this case is Lucy Powell. I filled in the details with an alias, entered my email and boom the email was sent. this didn’t take me more than a minute. however the site only allows one action per person but i have given you another ones to work from, so please don’t let that discourage you. same applies with the emails to us representives. reinstating that, i myself, a person who is not from the uk or us can also participate. it is not limited to just us, canadian, aus or uk citizens. again it took me less than a minute. it’s that easy.

lastly i wanted to add on that this is the way you can help. this is your voice. your power. you are not hopeless. this is you actively participating in a change. keep reblogging, keep signing petitions, keep going to protests. your silence is what they want.

[richiekirschs]

i need that spiderman!lottie bot on character.ai so bad 😭😭😭

There’s this one but I think it’s janitor.ai… I do not understand how these things work but I took a peek at it and it was cool 😊

[richiekirschs]

how do you reconcile being religious and practicing religion with being queer? it’s something i’ve struggled with for a long time and i’m interested in hearing your perspective

religion is personal and no flesh and blood on earth can keep you from god, whatever or whoever god is to you. that's the beauty of spirituality; it exists both inside you and all around you. how is another human being going to police that? how could they even try to?

[richiekirschs]

heres some sketches !! :)) i agree on the nwh spidersuit!! lmk if you think i should tweak it hehe ;p

thought i'd put the scar in as well, since i think it's an ICONIC part of her design

These r so cute!! Also yeah I think the scar is just part of her tbh i can’t picture her without it

[richiekirschs]

i wanna design a spider-suit for spider!lottie, and i was wondering what you think her suit would look like? would it be like regular spiderman or with yellow instead of red, would she wear a jacket, etc? i definitely want to give her shoes because spiderman's bare feet thing makes me uncomfortable LMAO

i just thought i'd ask you since you've done a lot of content for her so i trust your judgement hahah :')) i'd even make you some free art with your design!

Hmm… when I was writing I always pictured the black/red suit like in NWH but I could also imagine her with the blue/red suit that Andrew’s Peter had… I also see her as a Converse girl I think she would match them to her shoes 😞 you don’t have to feel pressured to send me anything but I’d love to see what u have once it’s done!!

[richiekirschs]

[richiekirschs]

the spiderman!lottie bot is now published!!

ty for letting me use your material<3

It’s no problem!!! I will be taking a peek trust

[richiekirschs]

Are we ever getting an upside down kiss with Spider-Lottie?

If I can come up with more material for a third part then yes!!

[richiekirschs]

Ghostface!Lottie and Ghostface!Nat who were partners as teens and then Ghostface!adultLottie trying to get Nat back in the game

i do not write for lottienat!! i’m also only taking reqs for spider!lottie right now

[richiekirschs]

SHE’S MY BABY — Spider-Man!Lottie Matthews

and i hope you don’t save some other girl…

warnings— fem reader (she/her used), typical spider-man shenanigans, gun mentions, ooc lottie probably

[part 1]

lottie: when did you want to get coffee

lottie: 11:15 at little collins?

you: isn’t that in the city?

lottie: yeah but i can venmo you for the ferry fee

you: no it’s fine i can take the bridge

lottie: ok see you tmrw

you: here

you: sitting in a booth towards the back

Lottie’s late.

You’re anxiously checking your phone screen over and over, trying to make sure you haven’t missed any rain-check texts.

11:28. Nothing.

You fidget in your seat, bouncing your leg, looking at the door with hopeful eyes whenever the bell chimes.

At exactly 11:30, the door swings open, a frantic Lottie rushing in from the other side.

“I’m sorry!” she immediately says, collapsing into the booth. “This guy stole an old lady’s purse, and then—“

“Lottie,” you interrupt, “calm down. I’m not mad, I just thought you forgot.”

“No,” she promises, still a bit out of breath. “No, I actually swung over here.”

“What, like, with your webs?”

“Would you lower your voice?” she hisses.

“It’s New York, Lot,” you deadpan. “I literally saw a man taking a shit on the sidewalk.” You lock eyes with a man at the counter, leaning back to stretch his arms. You jerk your thumb at Lottie as you say, “She’s Spider-Man.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he says before turning back to his phone.

You sip from your drink. “So how exactly did this happen? Is this your weird attempt at a fursona?”

“It’s not a fursona,” she mumbles defensively. “I got bit by a spider. I guess it was, like, radioactive or something.”

“Radioactive?” you repeat. “Like the dogs in Chernobyl?”

“Yeah,” she replies, “except I didn’t grow any extra teeth like those fish. I fell onto this lady on the subway the night after and my hand got stuck to her shirt, and I… ripped it off…” She flushes pink.

“How the fuck did that happen?”

“I’m, like… sticky,” she informs you, embarrassed as she flexes her hands. You wrinkle your nose at sticky. “And I get these weird tingles right before something happens.”

“Does the web come out of you?” you question, genuinely intrigued.

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “I don’t have extra legs, though, before you ask.”

“How’d you get out last night?”

“I put the suit back on in the shower, then went back out the window. I went down the balcony into your bedroom. Natalie came in, though, so I hid on… the ceiling…” As the words leave her mouth, she clearly realizes how weird it sounds.

“I’m impressed, Lot,” you admit. “It’s been a year, and I never would’ve guessed it was you. I thought you had some secret lover and that’s why you were sneaking around.”

It’s her turn to wrinkle her nose. “God, no. I felt really bad about always leaving you, though.”

You shrug. “It’s definitely not as bad as when Tai and Van coincidentally sneak off to go have sex. They’re not even subtle about it.”

Lottie laughs, but she shifts uncomfortably, like someone just licked their finger and stuck it in her ear.

You frown. “You okay?”

She looks up, but it’s almost like she’s looking through you. Her eyes track movement in the window at your back.

She grabs her backpack. “I have to go.”

You turn around, but there’s nothing there. You whip back around to face her. “What the hell, Lottie?”

“I’m sorry!” she insists. “I’ll—I’ll call you, okay?”

She doesn’t give you time to respond before she’s sprinting out the door of the café, chasing down whatever she’d seen behind you.

You’re upset, to say the least.

You walk back to the ferry parking garage where you’d parked, grinding your teeth. If it were a cartoon, you might have steam coming out of your ears.

You have to take three laps around the garage before you finally find your car.

But as you approach your car, you can see a figure yanking at your driver’s side door.

“Hey!” you shout. “What the fuck?”

“This your car?” he asks.

“I’m not shouting at you for fun,” you snap.

“Give me your keys,” he commands.

“No, I’m not gonna give you my keys!”

He shoves his hand into the pocket of his jacket and points it at you. “Give me the fucking keys!”

“I can see your thumb sticking out, I know you don’t have a gun! It’s a piece of shit anyway, just back off—“

He starts forward, but he only gets a few steps in before something shoots past you—you literally blink and miss it, and when you look back at the man attempting to carjack you his hand is stuck to the wall with a fucking web.

Fucking Lottie.

“I thought she told you to back off, man,” Lottie sighs.

“Why do you sound like that?” the man asks, which is the same thing you’re wondering.

You know it’s Lottie, of course. But she’s using some weird, Ghostface-esque voice modulator.

“Sound like what?” she bluffs.

“No, I heard you earlier,” the man insists, “when you were chasing me. I know what a girl sounds like.”

“I’m not a girl!” Lottie shouts. “I’m a boy! Fuck—a man!”

If you hadn’t just been a victim of an attempted carjacking (and possibly murder), you would’ve bust out laughing. Lottie’s voice sounded very Mickey Altieri—it’s time, girlfriend!

“Man, I really don’t care,” the man shrugs, defeated.

Lottie mumbles, “Interrogation mode, off,” before turning back to you. “Go home, okay?”

You nod, surprisingly relieved by Lottie saving the day. You get into your car and turn the key.

“That’s gonna dissolve in 2 hours, okay?” Lottie tells the man, who’s still stuck to the wall.

“What?” he exclaims. “No, I need to get home!”

She jogs off. “2 hours! You deserve that!”

You can’t help but laugh as you start your drive home.

KITTY MEOWS! I pray this was as good as y’all wanted it to be… the second half is very heavily based on the scene of Donald Glover in Homecoming I thought it would be silly for Lottie 😞

[richiekirschs]

SHE’S MY BABY — Spider-Man!Lottie Matthews

and i hope you don’t save some other girl…

warnings— fem reader (she/her used), typical spider-man shenanigans, gun mentions, ooc lottie probably

[part 1]

lottie: when did you want to get coffee

lottie: 11:15 at little collins?

you: isn’t that in the city?

lottie: yeah but i can venmo you for the ferry fee

you: no it’s fine i can take the bridge

lottie: ok see you tmrw

you: here

you: sitting in a booth towards the back

Lottie’s late.

You’re anxiously checking your phone screen over and over, trying to make sure you haven’t missed any rain-check texts.

11:28. Nothing.

You fidget in your seat, bouncing your leg, looking at the door with hopeful eyes whenever the bell chimes.

At exactly 11:30, the door swings open, a frantic Lottie rushing in from the other side.

“I’m sorry!” she immediately says, collapsing into the booth. “This guy stole an old lady’s purse, and then—“

“Lottie,” you interrupt, “calm down. I’m not mad, I just thought you forgot.”

“No,” she promises, still a bit out of breath. “No, I actually swung over here.”

“What, like, with your webs?”

“Would you lower your voice?” she hisses.

“It’s New York, Lot,” you deadpan. “I literally saw a man taking a shit on the sidewalk.” You lock eyes with a man at the counter, leaning back to stretch his arms. You jerk your thumb at Lottie as you say, “She’s Spider-Man.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he says before turning back to his phone.

You sip from your drink. “So how exactly did this happen? Is this your weird attempt at a fursona?”

“It’s not a fursona,” she mumbles defensively. “I got bit by a spider. I guess it was, like, radioactive or something.”

“Radioactive?” you repeat. “Like the dogs in Chernobyl?”

“Yeah,” she replies, “except I didn’t grow any extra teeth like those fish. I fell onto this lady on the subway the night after and my hand got stuck to her shirt, and I… ripped it off…” She flushes pink.

“How the fuck did that happen?”

“I’m, like… sticky,” she informs you, embarrassed as she flexes her hands. You wrinkle your nose at sticky. “And I get these weird tingles right before something happens.”

“Does the web come out of you?” you question, genuinely intrigued.

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “I don’t have extra legs, though, before you ask.”

“How’d you get out last night?”

“I put the suit back on in the shower, then went back out the window. I went down the balcony into your bedroom. Natalie came in, though, so I hid on… the ceiling…” As the words leave her mouth, she clearly realizes how weird it sounds.

“I’m impressed, Lot,” you admit. “It’s been a year, and I never would’ve guessed it was you. I thought you had some secret lover and that’s why you were sneaking around.”

It’s her turn to wrinkle her nose. “God, no. I felt really bad about always leaving you, though.”

You shrug. “It’s definitely not as bad as when Tai and Van coincidentally sneak off to go have sex. They’re not even subtle about it.”

Lottie laughs, but she shifts uncomfortably, like someone just licked their finger and stuck it in her ear.

You frown. “You okay?”

She looks up, but it’s almost like she’s looking through you. Her eyes track movement in the window at your back.

She grabs her backpack. “I have to go.”

You turn around, but there’s nothing there. You whip back around to face her. “What the hell, Lottie?”

“I’m sorry!” she insists. “I’ll—I’ll call you, okay?”

She doesn’t give you time to respond before she’s sprinting out the door of the café, chasing down whatever she’d seen behind you.

You’re upset, to say the least.

You walk back to the ferry parking garage where you’d parked, grinding your teeth. If it were a cartoon, you might have steam coming out of your ears.

You have to take three laps around the garage before you finally find your car.

But as you approach your car, you can see a figure yanking at your driver’s side door.

“Hey!” you shout. “What the fuck?”

“This your car?” he asks.

“I’m not shouting at you for fun,” you snap.

“Give me your keys,” he commands.

“No, I’m not gonna give you my keys!”

He shoves his hand into the pocket of his jacket and points it at you. “Give me the fucking keys!”

“I can see your thumb sticking out, I know you don’t have a gun! It’s a piece of shit anyway, just back off—“

He starts forward, but he only gets a few steps in before something shoots past you—you literally blink and miss it, and when you look back at the man attempting to carjack you his hand is stuck to the wall with a fucking web.

Fucking Lottie.

“I thought she told you to back off, man,” Lottie sighs.

“Why do you sound like that?” the man asks, which is the same thing you’re wondering.

You know it’s Lottie, of course. But she’s using some weird, Ghostface-esque voice modulator.

“Sound like what?” she bluffs.

“No, I heard you earlier,” the man insists, “when you were chasing me. I know what a girl sounds like.”

“I’m not a girl!” Lottie shouts. “I’m a boy! Fuck—a man!”

If you hadn’t just been a victim of an attempted carjacking (and possibly murder), you would’ve bust out laughing. Lottie’s voice sounded very Mickey Altieri—it’s time, girlfriend!

“Man, I really don’t care,” the man shrugs, defeated.

Lottie mumbles, “Interrogation mode, off,” before turning back to you. “Go home, okay?”

You nod, surprisingly relieved by Lottie saving the day. You get into your car and turn the key.

“That’s gonna dissolve in 2 hours, okay?” Lottie tells the man, who’s still stuck to the wall.

“What?” he exclaims. “No, I need to get home!”

She jogs off. “2 hours! You deserve that!”

You can’t help but laugh as you start your drive home.

KITTY MEOWS! I pray this was as good as y’all wanted it to be… the second half is very heavily based on the scene of Donald Glover in Homecoming I thought it would be silly for Lottie 😞

[richiekirschs]

hello!! i wanted to make an spiderman!lottie janitor ai bot and i was looking for inspo here on tumblr and ao3 and found your work which i really loved, by the way!

is there a possibility that i can use it as the scenario when the rp occurs? 🫶🏻 ofc i’ll give you creds.

Yes!! Feel free to use whatever u would like 😊 Tbh will u link it when it’s done I want to see… I have no idea what janitor AI is but I’m assuming it’s like on TikTok where those girls talk to Billy Loomis

[richiekirschs]

Thanks for part one. I hope you don’t feel rushed to make part 2. Enjoy your summer class and take care of yourself before anything else.

Thank u for ur kind words 🙏🙏 here is a peek at part 2…

[richiekirschs]

Part 2 is in my drafts I haven’t finished it 😞 I have a summer class I’m taking so I’ve been a bit busy but I promise it’ll be out ASAP 🙏

KARMA — Spider-Man!Lottie Matthews

spider-boy, king of thieves!

warnings— no use of y/n, fem implied reader (referred to as “unsuspecting girl”), lottie is vaguely hurt

The Yellowjackets had been spreading their theories about Spider-Man since he was first spotted in New York, just across the river.

It was actually Misty who came up with the theory that he was actually from Jersey City, after how many times he’d been spotted on the ferry that takes you across the Hudson from Midtown. Nat had disagreed, stating that he was probably in Jersey City so often because of the amount of freaks patrolling the streets.

Most of your teammates think it’s stupid—with Jackie saying it’s just some asshole trying to get on Subway Creatures, and Tai saying the guy in the suit just wants to piss off J. Jonah Jameson. Laura Lee thinks he’s devilish. Nat indulges in the fantasies after having witnessed one of Spider-Man’s fights firsthand (and also because she likes to piss off Jackie.)

The girls are all over at your apartment tonight for the regularly scheduled movie night. Everyone takes turns— last time it was Tai, and now it was you.

You’re in the bathroom washing your hands when there’s a THUD! from the fire escape outside the bathroom window.

You frown, wondering if you should check. Is it your neighbors, smoking a blunt? Or is there maybe a cat that needs help?

You yank up the blinds to check, deciding it’s better to know than risk it distracting you the rest of the night.

It’s not your neighbors, and it’s definitely not a stray cat.

It’s Spider-Man.

You can’t do much but freeze and mumble, “You’re shitting me.”

He stares back at you with comically wide, unblinking eyes. He points at the windowsill and mimes pushing it up before silently pleading with his hands.

You sigh. Of course this would happen. All you can do as you unlock the window is pray that it’s actually Spider-Man, and not some douche in a costume looking to take advantage of an unsuspecting girl.

You push the window up and he tumbles to the ground of the bathroom, somehow remaining inhumanly quiet.

In the process, though, he aggressively knocks a (glass) bottle of perfume off of the counter.

“Shit!” you hiss.

“Are you okay?” someone calls. Maybe Nat? It definitely could’ve been Van.

“Yeah!” you call before turning back to the masked vigilante. “You have 30 seconds to explain yourself.”

Spider-Man holds up a finger, chest heaving, before reaching up under his mask and yanking it off.

It’s not a man at all. It’s Lottie, your best friend who was conveniently missing from tonight’s get-together.

Your jaw drops. “What the f—?”

You don’t get the chance to finish your exclamation as she bolts up to clamp a hand over your mouth. “Shh!”

You frown back at her, trying to convey your emotion with your eyes.

“I’ll explain, I promise,” she assures you. “But I’m hurt. I just got my ass kicked. I need you to help me, but you can’t tell the others.”

You don’t respond. Her hand is still over your mouth.

“Promise me!” she hisses, begging.

You nod frantically, and she slowly removes her hand. “I can’t believe you’re a girl. I was betting major money with Nat that Spider-Man was Jeff Sadecki.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “Jesus Christ. Are you going to help me or not?”

“I can’t do that if you don’t tell me where you’re hurt!”

She swallows, unable to meet your eyes. “Under my suit.”

You sigh at her. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.” She manages to stumble to her feet, and you help her unzip the suit, both of you flushed bright red.

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed, Lot,” you tease as she collapses onto the closed toilet. “We’ve changed in front of each other a billion times.”

“These aren’t ideal circumstances,” she groans.

Her wound isn’t too bad, but it probably hurts like a bitch. Sliced across her leg, the cut slowly oozes blood. Her knuckles are scraped up, too. There’s already green-yellow bruises forming around both wounds.

“It’s not awful,” you assure her. “They just need to be cleaned and get bandaged.”

You dig out isopropyl alcohol and a rag before a apologizing for the pain you’re about to cause her.

She whimpers as you clean the gash on her leg and wrap gauze around it, and you have to pray that she doesn’t see the way your face burns.

Someone rattles the door handle. “Are you still in there?”

Laura Lee. With a start, you realize you didn’t lock the door.

You and Lottie lock wide eyes with each other before you’re yanking her up and shoving her into the shower. She shoots a web to seal the curtain to the wall, tucking herself behind it.

The door swings open, and Laura Lee peers around from behind it. “Hey, we were thinking about ordering pizza—is that your blood?”

You look down at your hands, but it’s not yours. It’s Lottie’s, from where you had wiped it from her leg. You need to think of a lie, and quick.

“Oh,” you shrug in a hopefully nonchalant manner. “My nose started bleeding, and I put my hand over it while I got the rag.”

Laura Lee, of course, steps in to investigate. “Did it stop? We should say a prayer.”

You gently swat her prodding hands away. “Yeah, I’m fine. It stopped. I just didn’t get the chance to wash my hands.”

“Really,” Laura Lee insists. “We should say a prayer. This could be a sign of something.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, “of a ruptured blood vessel.”

You indulge in Laura Lee’s plead anyway, and pray that Lottie can resist her urges to laugh during Laura Lee’s prayer like she always does.

Lottie knows she doesn’t have much time.

She carefully slides the suit back on before slipping out of the very window she’d come through. From there, she makes a Pink Panther-esque getaway a few feet away from that window to the one that leads to your bedroom.

She carefully slides the bedroom window shut before flinging open a dresser drawer in hopes for some clean clothes. She digs out a Kean University pullover and plaid pajama pants. It’ll have to do.

She stashes the suit in the spot that she’d swiped the clothes from, and just as she shuts the drawer, she freezes. Someone’s coming.

There’s nowhere to hide. Your bed sits atop a wooden bed frame, meaning she won’t—can’t—fit underneath. Your closet isn’t big enough either. That only leaves…

When Nat swings the door open, she completely expects to find someone in a striped shirt with a sack of money over their shoulder. Something is being very noisy in your room, and she’s intrigued to know what could possibly be causing such a ruckus.

Instead, she finds… nothing.

She checks under your bed, even though nobody besides a small child could fit between the planks of your bed frame. She checks your closet. Hell, she checks the fire escape.

Nothing.

“Hm,” she decides, but there’s something… not right. There’s an itch under her skin that won’t go away.

When Nat leaves, Lottie can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

She carefully lets herself down from the ceiling with a breath of, “Holy shit,” and a hand pressed to her chest.

There’s still work left to be done, though.

Quietly this time, she swings back out onto the fire escape.

There’s a knock on your front door, and you frown. Everybody’s here, and Misty didn’t say that they had already ordered the pizza, just that they were thinking about it.

You quickly rinse your hands of Lottie’s red blood before following Misty to the door.

Low and behold, the new guest is Lottie fucking Matthews.

You feign surprise at the sight of her. “Hey, I thought you weren’t coming!”

She walks over to you, arms open wide, limping ever so slightly as she engulfs you in a hug. “It’s a long story.”

Through a faux grin, you growl, “Tomorrow, we’re going to get coffee, and you’re going to explain everything.”

“Deal.”

KITTY MEOWS! I kept seeing Spider!Lottie edits on TikTok and there was an itch in my bones that could only be satisfied by writing this…

[richiekirschs]

KARMA — Lottie Matthews

spider-boy, king of thieves!

warnings— no use of y/n, fem implied reader (referred to as “unsuspecting girl”), lottie is vaguely hurt

The Yellowjackets had been spreading their theories about Spider-Man since he was first spotted in New York, just across the river.

It was actually Misty who came up with the theory that he was actually from Jersey City, after how many times he’d been spotted on the ferry that takes you across the Hudson from Midtown. Nat had disagreed, stating that he was probably in Jersey City so often because of the amount of freaks patrolling the streets.

Most of your teammates think it’s stupid—with Jackie saying it’s just some asshole trying to get on Subway Creatures, and Tai saying the guy in the suit just wants to piss off J. Jonah Jameson. Laura Lee thinks he’s devilish. Nat indulges in the fantasies after having witnessed one of Spider-Man’s fights firsthand (and also because she likes to piss off Jackie.)

The girls are all over at your apartment tonight for the regularly scheduled movie night. Everyone takes turns— last time it was Tai, and now it was you.

You’re in the bathroom washing your hands when there’s a THUD! from the fire escape outside the bathroom window.

You frown, wondering if you should check. Is it your neighbors, smoking a blunt? Or is there maybe a cat that needs help?

You yank up the blinds to check, deciding it’s better to know than risk it distracting you the rest of the night.

It’s not your neighbors, and it’s definitely not a stray cat.

It’s Spider-Man.

You can’t do much but freeze and mumble, “You’re shitting me.”

He stares back at you with comically wide, unblinking eyes. He points at the windowsill and mimes pushing it up before silently pleading with his hands.

You sigh. Of course this would happen. All you can do as you unlock the window is pray that it’s actually Spider-Man, and not some douche in a costume looking to take advantage of an unsuspecting girl.

You push the window up and he tumbles to the ground of the bathroom, somehow remaining inhumanly quiet.

In the process, though, he aggressively knocks a (glass) bottle of perfume off of the counter.

“Shit!” you hiss.

“Are you okay?” someone calls. Maybe Nat? It definitely could’ve been Van.

“Yeah!” you call before turning back to the masked vigilante. “You have 30 seconds to explain yourself.”

Spider-Man holds up a finger, chest heaving, before reaching up under his mask and yanking it off.

It’s not a man at all. It’s Lottie, your best friend who was conveniently missing from tonight’s get-together.

Your jaw drops. “What the f—?”

You don’t get the chance to finish your exclamation as she bolts up to clamp a hand over your mouth. “Shh!”

You frown back at her, trying to convey your emotion with your eyes.

“I’ll explain, I promise,” she assures you. “But I’m hurt. I just got my ass kicked. I need you to help me, but you can’t tell the others.”

You don’t respond. Her hand is still over your mouth.

“Promise me!” she hisses, begging.

You nod frantically, and she slowly removes her hand. “I can’t believe you’re a girl. I was betting major money with Nat that Spider-Man was Jeff Sadecki.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “Jesus Christ. Are you going to help me or not?”

“I can’t do that if you don’t tell me where you’re hurt!”

She swallows, unable to meet your eyes. “Under my suit.”

You sigh at her. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.” She manages to stumble to her feet, and you help her unzip the suit, both of you flushed bright red.

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed, Lot,” you tease as she collapses onto the closed toilet. “We’ve changed in front of each other a billion times.”

“These aren’t ideal circumstances,” she groans.

Her wound isn’t too bad, but it probably hurts like a bitch. Sliced across her leg, the cut slowly oozes blood. Her knuckles are scraped up, too. There’s already green-yellow bruises forming around both wounds.

“It’s not awful,” you assure her. “They just need to be cleaned and get bandaged.”

You dig out isopropyl alcohol and a rag before a apologizing for the pain you’re about to cause her.

She whimpers as you clean the gash on her leg and wrap gauze around it, and you have to pray that she doesn’t see the way your face burns.

Someone rattles the door handle. “Are you still in there?”

Laura Lee. With a start, you realize you didn’t lock the door.

You and Lottie lock wide eyes with each other before you’re yanking her up and shoving her into the shower, tucked behind the curtain.

The door swings open, and Laura Lee peers around from behind it. “Hey, we were thinking about ordering pizza—is that your blood?”

You look down at your hands, but it’s not yours. It’s Lottie’s, from where you had wiped it from her leg. You need to think of a lie, and quick.

“Oh,” you shrug in a hopefully nonchalant manner. “My nose started bleeding, and I put my hand over it while I got the rag.”

Laura Lee, of course, steps in to investigate. “Did it stop? We should say a prayer.”

You gently swat her prodding hands away. “Yeah, I’m fine. It stopped. I just didn’t get the chance to wash my hands.”

“Really,” Laura Lee insists. “We should say a prayer. This could be a sign of something.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, “of a ruptured blood vessel.”

You indulge in Laura Lee’s plead anyway, and pray that Lottie can resist her urges to laugh during Laura Lee’s prayer like she always does.

Lottie knows she doesn’t have much time.

She carefully slides the suit back on before slipping out of the very window she’d come through. From there, she makes a Pink Panther-esque getaway a few feet away from that window to the one that leads to your bedroom.

She carefully slides the bedroom window shut before flinging open a dresser drawer in hopes for some clean clothes. She digs out a Kean University pullover and plaid pajama pants. It’ll have to do.

She stashes the suit in the spot that she’d swiped the clothes from, and just as she shuts the drawer, she freezes. Someone’s coming.

There’s nowhere to hide. Your bed sits atop a wooden bed frame, meaning she won’t—can’t—fit underneath. Your closet isn’t big enough either. That only leaves…

When Nat swings the door open, she completely expects to find someone in a striped shirt with a sack of money over their shoulder. Something is being very noisy in your room, and she’s intrigued to know what could possibly be causing such a ruckus.

Instead, she finds… nothing.

She checks under your bed, even though nobody besides a small child could fit between the planks of your bed frame. She checks your closet. Hell, she checks the fire escape.

Nothing.

“Hm,” she decides, but there’s something… not right. There’s an itch under her skin that won’t go away.

When Nat leaves, Lottie can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

She carefully lets herself down from the ceiling with a breath of, “Holy shit,” and a hand pressed to her chest.

There’s still work left to be done, though.

Quietly this time, she swings back out onto the fire escape.

There’s a knock on your front door, and you frown. Everybody’s here, and Misty didn’t say that they had already ordered the pizza, just that they were thinking about it.

You quickly rinse your hands of Lottie’s red blood before following Misty to the door.

Low and behold, the new guest is Lottie fucking Matthews.

You feign surprise at the sight of her. “Hey, I thought you weren’t coming!”

She walks over to you, arms open wide, limping ever so slightly as she engulfs you in a hug. “It’s a long story.”

Through a faux grin, you growl, “Tomorrow, we’re going to get coffee, and you’re going to explain everything.”

“Deal.”

KITTY MEOWS! I kept seeing Spider!Lottie edits on TikTok and there was an itch in my bones that could only be satisfied by writing this…

[richiekirschs]

I LOVED UR SPIDERMAN!LOTTIE FIC ♥♥ i've been getting those edits on my fyp too and im obsessed! have you even considered ghostface!lottie 👀

Thank u!! Also no I haven’t omg… I’ve seen GF!Nat and GF!Misty but Lottie is news to me… I will have to keep this in mind thank u…

[richiekirschs]

SHE’S MY BABY — Spider-Man!Lottie Matthews

spider-boy, king of thieves…

warnings— no use of y/n, fem implied reader (referred to as “unsuspecting girl”), lottie is vaguely hurt

[part 2]

The Yellowjackets had been spreading their theories about Spider-Man since he was first spotted in New York, just across the river.

It was surprisingly Misty who came up with the theory that he was actually from Jersey City, after how many times he’d been spotted on the ferry that takes you across the Hudson from Midtown. Nat had disagreed, stating that he was probably in Jersey City so often because of the amount of freaks patrolling the streets.

Most of your teammates think it’s stupid—with Jackie saying it’s just some asshole trying to get on Subway Creatures, and Tai saying the guy in the suit just wants to piss off J. Jonah Jameson. Laura Lee thinks he’s devilish. Nat indulges in the fantasies after having witnessed one of Spider-Man’s fights firsthand (and also because she likes to piss off Jackie.)

The girls are all over at your apartment tonight for the regularly scheduled movie night. Everyone takes turns— last time it was Tai, and now it was you.

You’re in the bathroom washing your hands when there’s a THUD! from the fire escape outside the bathroom window.

You frown, wondering if you should check. Is it your neighbors, smoking a blunt? Or is there maybe a cat that needs help?

You yank up the blinds to check, deciding it’s better to know than risk it distracting you the rest of the night.

It’s not your neighbors, and it’s definitely not a stray cat.

It’s Spider-Man.

You can’t do much but freeze and mumble, “You’re shitting me.”

He stares back at you with comically wide, unblinking eyes. He points at the windowsill and mimes pushing it up before silently pleading with his hands.

You sigh. Of course this would happen. All you can do as you unlock the window is pray that it’s actually Spider-Man, and not some douche in a costume looking to take advantage of an unsuspecting girl.

You push the window up and he tumbles to the ground of the bathroom, somehow remaining inhumanly quiet.

In the process, though, he aggressively knocks a (glass) bottle of perfume off of the counter.

“Shit!” you hiss.

“Are you okay?” someone calls. Maybe Nat? It definitely could’ve been Van.

“Yeah!” you call before turning back to the masked vigilante. “You have 30 seconds to explain yourself.”

Spider-Man holds up a finger, chest heaving, before reaching up under his mask and yanking it off.

It’s not a man at all. It’s Lottie, your best friend who was conveniently missing from tonight’s get-together.

Your jaw drops. “What the f—?”

You don’t get the chance to finish your exclamation as she bolts up to clamp a hand over your mouth. “Shh!”

You frown back at her, trying to convey your emotion with your eyes.

“I’ll explain, I promise,” she assures you. “But I’m hurt. I just got my ass kicked. I need you to help me, but you can’t tell the others.”

You don’t respond. Her hand is still over your mouth.

“Promise me!” she hisses, begging.

You nod frantically, and she slowly removes her hand. “I can’t believe you’re a girl. I was betting major money with Nat that Spider-Man was Jeff Sadecki.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “Jesus Christ. Are you going to help me or not?”

“I can’t do that if you don’t tell me where you’re hurt!”

She swallows, unable to meet your eyes. “Under my suit.”

You sigh at her. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.” She manages to stumble to her feet, and you help her unzip the suit, both of you flushed bright red.

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed, Lot,” you tease as she collapses onto the closed toilet. “We’ve changed in front of each other a billion times.”

“These aren’t ideal circumstances,” she groans.

Her wound isn’t too bad, but it probably hurts like a bitch. Sliced across her leg, the cut slowly oozes blood. Her knuckles are scraped up, too. There’s already green-yellow bruises forming around both wounds.

“It’s not awful,” you assure her. “They just need to be cleaned and get bandaged.”

You dig out isopropyl alcohol and a rag before a apologizing for the pain you’re about to cause her.

She whimpers as you clean the gash on her leg and wrap gauze around it, and you have to pray that she doesn’t see the way your face burns.

Someone rattles the door handle. “Are you still in there?”

Laura Lee. With a start, you realize you didn’t lock the door.

You and Lottie lock wide eyes with each other before you’re yanking her up and shoving her into the shower. She shoots a web to seal the curtain to the wall, tucking herself behind it.

The door swings open, and Laura Lee peers around from behind it. “Hey, we were thinking about ordering pizza—is that your blood?”

You look down at your hands, but it’s not yours. It’s Lottie’s, from where you had wiped it from her leg. You need to think of a lie, and quick.

“Oh,” you shrug in a hopefully nonchalant manner. “My nose started bleeding, and I put my hand over it while I got the rag.”

Laura Lee, of course, steps in to investigate. “Did it stop? We should say a prayer.”

You gently swat her prodding hands away. “Yeah, I’m fine. It stopped. I just didn’t get the chance to wash my hands.”

“Really,” Laura Lee insists. “We should say a prayer. This could be a sign of something.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, “of a ruptured blood vessel.”

You indulge in Laura Lee’s plead anyway, and pray that Lottie can resist her urges to laugh during Laura Lee’s prayer like she always does.

Lottie knows she doesn’t have much time.

She carefully slides the suit back on before slipping out of the very window she’d come through. From there, she makes a Pink Panther-esque getaway a few feet away from that window to the one that leads to your bedroom.

She carefully slides the bedroom window shut before flinging open a dresser drawer in hopes for some clean clothes. She digs out a Kean University pullover and plaid pajama pants. It’ll have to do.

She stashes the suit in the spot that she’d swiped the clothes from, and just as she shuts the drawer, she freezes. Someone’s coming.

There’s nowhere to hide. Your bed sits atop a wooden bed frame, meaning she won’t—can’t—fit underneath. Your closet isn’t big enough either. That only leaves…

When Nat swings the door open, she completely expects to find someone in a striped shirt with a sack of money over their shoulder. Something is being very noisy in your room, and she’s intrigued to know what could possibly be causing such a ruckus.

Instead, she finds… nothing.

She checks under your bed, even though nobody besides a small child could fit between the planks of your bed frame. She checks your closet. Hell, she checks the fire escape.

Nothing.

“Hm,” she decides, but there’s something… not right. There’s an itch under her skin that won’t go away.

When Nat leaves, Lottie can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

She carefully lets herself down from the ceiling with a breath of, “Holy shit,” and a hand pressed to her chest.

There’s still work left to be done, though.

Quietly this time, she swings back out onto the fire escape.

There’s a knock on your front door, and you frown. Everybody’s here, and Misty didn’t say that they had already ordered the pizza, just that they were thinking about it.

You quickly rinse your hands of Lottie’s red blood before following Misty to the door.

Low and behold, the new guest is Lottie fucking Matthews.

You feign surprise at the sight of her. “Hey, I thought you weren’t coming!”

She walks over to you, arms open wide, limping ever so slightly as she engulfs you in a hug. “It’s a long story.”

Through a faux grin, you growl, “Tomorrow, we’re going to get coffee, and you’re going to explain everything.”

“Deal.”

KITTY MEOWS! I kept seeing Spider!Lottie edits on TikTok and there was an itch in my bones that could only be satisfied by writing this…