#and creepy blurry spider

[nature-scares-me]

[honeygloom]

[luvmyoui]

her favorite (damsel in distress)

spiderwoman!ahn yujin x fem!reader GP!YUJIN

genre: fluff

warnings: cursing, violence (beating up bad guys), suggestive towards the end

synopsis: yujin was always an easy target for bullying and just couldnt seem to get her crush to notice her. what happens when she becomes a superhero and she starts saving her crush?

word count: 2,048

a/n: first time writing fluff, bcz i cant make my wife a bad person😞. also too lazy to proofread so pls ignore any mistakes😭😭

“uh- y-y/n, can i take a picture of you with the spiders?— for the school paper.”

“oh, of course!” you said in response to the question, happy that it was your picture she wanted.

you stood next to the spiders all in their respective cages and posed next to them. yujin put her camera up to her eye as she backed up so that she could get a full picture. 

“y/n, let’s go!!” you heard one of your friends call after yujin had taken a few pictures, they had already moved on to the next exhibition

“coming!” you called back out as you left yujin and went to approach your friends.

“wait- uh- thank you!” yujin called out to your back, smiling to herself. 

“ow fuck!” yujin exclaimed to herself as she felt a sharp pain in her hand. she had been bitten by a spider. she shook it off her hand and bent down to look at it. she watched as it crawled on the floor the colors of blue and red making it stand out. 

when it crawled out of sight, yujin stood up and looked at her hand. there were two holes there and a redness surrounding it. the spider looked like the genetically made super spiders, but not letting herself ponder on the thought, she left and continued inspecting the cages that contained spiders with her class.  

as the day went on yujin found that she could not simply ignore the spider bite on her hand. she started to feel the effects of the poison slowly becoming more intense. the school day went as a blur, yujin being half conscious for most of it.

when she arrived home, she was greeted by her aunt and uncle. she greeted them back as she walked up the stairs to her room. she could faintly process them asking her if she wanted to eat and she responded saying she already had. 

when she entered her room she locked the door and stripped off her shirt and her glasses which she threw somewhere in her room. she looked at her body in the mirror, her skinny frail body which made her the perfect victim for bullies. the spider bite on her hand had swelled up and turned purple.

she felt hot, but also incredibly cold. she was sweating bullets as she fell to the floor. she grabbed her blanket off of her bed and pulled it over herself.

what their guide told them about the spider that had bitten her replayed in her head as she slowly lost consciousness. 

yujin awoke with a groan, she slowly reached over from where she was on the floor for her glasses and picked them up. she stood up from the floor and went to put them on but when she held them up to her face she found that everything was blurry. she slowly lowered her glasses and found that she could in fact see better without her glasses. 

“weird,” she mumbled to herself as she put her glasses back on her desk.

yujin had to do a double take when she looked in the mirror, she had muscles and abs now. she looked in the mirror smiling to herself as she flexed in the mirror. she didn't know how this happened, but she definitely was not complaining about it. 

after hearing her aunt call out to her telling her that she’d be late if she didn't leave now, yujin turned to the side looking out her window hoping to see a certain someone. y/n l/n, her crush since before she knew what a crush was. this was her daily routine, to just watch as y/n did things. not in a creepy way though, more so in a longing way. her and y/n had been neighbors since they were six but yujin could bet on the fact that y/n didn't know. why would someone like y/n ever notice her. 

when she saw the time on her clock though, yujin quickly put on a shirt and left to try and go catch the bus. to her dismay it was yet another day in which she had to chase after the bus banging on it asking the driver to stop. after a while of running after the bus, yujin figured they wouldn't stop and today she’d have to walk.

her banging on the bus had somehow made the banner stick to her hand. as she slowed down, no longer keeping up with the bus the banner ripped due to it being stuck to her hand. she tried to shake it off but it wasn't leaving her hand, causing her to use her other hand to pull it off and thankfully it worked. 

that had all happened a month ago, yujin was now known to by everyone in her city as spiderwoman. she could shoot spider webs from her wrists, could stick to almost anything, and had super strength. after finding out she had these abilities she couldn't just stand around while innocent people were in trouble. so she decided to start helping out around the city under a disguise. 

“help!” yujin could faintly hear a call from a woman who seemed to be in danger. 

following the voice, she webbed around until she got to the place where the voice was coming from. she stayed on the roof of a building next to the dim alley as she looked down to see what was going on. yujin pumped her fists when she saw that it was you who was in trouble. she wasn't happy you were in need of help, she was just happy she could be of help to you. 

yujin swiftly swooped down and stood in between you and the 3 men surrounding you “what’s goin on here?” yujin said casually and watched as the men glared at her. 

“hmph, it's just a girl, she probably can't do too much.” the man who stood in the middle said to the other two in a smug voice. 

“you know it's not really nice to-” yujin was cut off by one of the men charging at her trying to swing. with ease she grabbed his hand and swung at his face, seeing how far the punch sent that guy the other two ran away trembling in fear.

“th-thank you spiderwoman,” yujin heard a voice from behind her say. yujin turned around when she heard the voice and responded by saying it was nothing.

“hey, uh- if you want i could walk you home. just to make sure no one else bothers you.” yujin said, if she didn't have the red mask covering her face she never would've said something like this, but being in her suit gave her confidence. 

“are you sure?”

“yes of course, it's no problem at all.” 

and thus this is how yujin now found herself walking her crush home and somehow she had managed the courage to put her arm around your waist too. It felt like she was dreaming, was she really walking home with y/n l/n in her arms?! 

when she reached the familiar house that was right next to hers, she let her arm around you drop and bid her goodbyes. as yujin sat at the top of a building she took off her mask and finally everything sunk in, she had never smiled this hard. by the time she got home her cheeks hurt from the smile that seemed to be tattooed on her face.

“what’s got you in such a good mood?” yujin’s aunt asked as she walked down the stairs and into the dining room. 

“uh- n-nothing.” yujin stuttered out and her face flushed as she recalled what had happened. 

her aunt just looked at her with a knowing smile and served her with the food she had cooked. 

“so, who’s the lucky girl?” 

“w-what?! n-no one!” 

“okay okay, just make sure to be careful, don't want any accidents to happen if you know what i mean.” yujin’s aunt said with a wink

“AUNTIE!” yujin exclaimed as her face flushed red, she did not want to hear this, especially not from her aunt.

yujin smiled as she heard the familiar voice calling for help. she knew she shouldn't be happy at the thought that you had gotten into trouble again but she couldn't help it. she always found herself looking forward to saving you. she followed your voice and found herself in the streets with 4 men running after you. she watched as the men cornered you and when they started to get in your face she shot out 4 webs and pulled them all away from you. 

when she jumped off the building the men one by one ran at her trying to attack. somehow, while fighting one of them pulled off her mask, too caught up in fighting them she didn't have time to put it back on. 

after she was done dealing with them she saw you start to walk up to her, it was too dark for you to see her face but she knew that if you came any closer her identity would be revealed. she quickly webbed up to the roof and put her mask back on. you walked over to the small alley she had previously occupied and looked around. yujin slowly descended from the roof upside down holding onto the web that was stuck to the top of the roof. 

“you have a knack for getting in trouble.” she said from behind you, you flinched when you heard the voice

“you have a knack for saving me,” you said with a giggle “i think i have a superhero stalker.”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“you are…. amazing.”

“Some people don't think so.”

“but you are.” you replied with, your words tinting her face with red from under her mask.

“It's nice to have a fan.”

“do i get to say thank you this time?” you said reaching your hands out for her mask. 

thinking that you were gonna pull off her mask yujin panics for a split second, voicing a ‘wait’.

hearing that you hesitated for a second before reaching out again and lowering the neck of her suit to pull out the mask. you slowly lift it revealing her lips, you stop at her nose and let the rolled up mask stay there. you slowly lean in towards her lips and let hers meet yours. yujin was screaming on the inside, this was her first kiss and it was being taken by you, y/n l/n. 

she could feel her heartbeat in her head, the way your lips glided along hers made her dizzy. yujin’s lips parted slightly allowing your tongue to slip in and explore the depths of her mouth. yujin couldn't stop the warmth from blossoming in her chest as she felt your tongue gliding along hers. was she in heaven? 

you soon parted from yujin to allow the oxygen to enter your lungs, yujin chased after your lips, missing the feeling. she was pulled out of her reverie from the sound of your small giggles. she looked at you questioningly wondering what you found so funny. 

“glad to know i have that much of an effect on you.” you said as you stared at her crotch. 

following your gaze yujin bent her neck to look up to see what you were staring at, when she realized she flushed red. she quickly reached up with one hand to cover the very visible tent in her pants, she wanted to die. yujin felt mortified. 

“I- uh- i- um-” yujin tried to say but nothing came out causing her to flush an even darker red. 

your giggles continued as you noticed that the bottom of her face matched the color of her suit. suddenly you were struck with an idea.

“hmm, let's make a deal. If you reveal your identity to me I'll take care of that little problem you have there.” you said while pointing at yujin’s groin. 

yujin’s jaw dropped at what you were insinuating you’d do. she fully descended, now standing on her feet in front of you and without any hesitation yujin pulled off her mask and said ‘deal’. 

[mutantbanner]

My new spiderverse OC!

He's a horrific amalgamation of Spot and Miles from another universe - the result of Miles jumping into the super-collider to try to stop Spot from doing his thing. This ends in an unholy fusion of the two, in an endless mental war with each other as they share a body.

First off, they hate each other. Spot still wants to ruin Miles's life and probably fuck up the entire multiverse, and Miles wants to stop Spot - and just be a hero who helps everyone. They are glitchy as fuck, somewhat of an eldritch abomination.

They have both Spot's crazy dimension and space-hopping powers, and traditional spider powers like web slinging, super strength, spidey senses, etc. They also have a combined power in which sometimes their webs turn to spots (or webby spots that allow visual into another dimension but not travel) and vice versa.

He's very unpredictable. Sometimes he's more Spot, sometimes he's more Miles, sometimes he's a blurry mix of both, and sometimes they're both in control. He wants to be a hero. He wants to destroy himself. He wants to annihilate Peter's dimension. He doesn't know what he wants. But he has the intelligence of both of them and can be quite the formidable foe to those who cross him.

He's extremely nimble, and has a great sense of humor, and maybe one day they'll learn to get along and become one of the most powerful heroes in the multiverse. But for now, they're a Mess.

A few things about their design:

Their webs are black and inky.

They often have multiple limbs/heads, more often than regular Spot does. Usually their head(s) have two spiderman-esque spiral eyes, but sometimes they get the creepy One Spot thing.

Their tendril things often take the shape of spider legs but not always

Anyways, I think I'll be calling him Spotter :) (Spot + Spider ig)

(I thought about making him an amalgamation of Miles and Spot but decided that would be too sad even for me. This Peter is an adult probably quite similar to Peter B Parker)

(Edit: NVM I forgot I love angst. He's Miles now)

EDIT 2: He has an ask blog! @ask-spotter

[shayyprasad]

my peter | peter parker

takes place during no way home, tw: cursing maybe, mentions of suicide

i dont i remember the movie, and i couldn't pull it up so enjoy this made up script that loosely follows that plot with multiple time gaps :)

ghostspider!reader (yall the ghostspider was researched for like 15 minutes and i have the most vague understanding of it)

summary: you end up in peter's world... just not your peter's. (takes place during no way home.)

word count: 2.0k-ish words

i didn't know how i ended up here. on second i was there... and then... i wasn't.

i remember falling, i think. from something tall? a building. yeah, a building. no. we were- we were on a clock tower? at the top. and the last thing i remember is a gunshot. shot directly at my webs-wings...?

i was falling, and then i wasn't.

i pulled myself up against the wall of the dark alleyway, shivering as the cold air wrapped itself around me, sending goosebumps down my skin. i simply couldn't remember how i'd gotten here, and it was killing me. i staggered out, my vision blurry. i hovered my hand in the air, faint blue sparks crackling.

my eyes widened when i heard loud honking, and bright lights seared into my line of sight. i opened my mouth to scream, but suddenly a blur of blue and red swung by me, and then my feet weren't in the ground. i buried my nose into the neck of whoever it was, and it only took one thing to figure out who it was.

his smell. he smelled like love and pinewood and all the sweet things. and as creepy as it probably sounded, he smelled distinct, like home. he was home.

he was peter.

even after he'd set me down somewhere, i still let my arms linger for a moment longer. or two.

"uh, ma'am? i-"

my eyes glazed over, because here he was. here was peter. but how? wasn't he dead? my peter was dead, right?

"peter, love, is- is that you? how-... oh my god. i- i thought you were dead- you have no idea how happy i am to see you. i'm actually going crazy, aren't i? you wouldn't believe it. because one second, i'm on the clock tower and then you're here and i'm in an alley. what happened?"

he was stuttering, and clearly struggling to piece together a sentence. "w-who's peter? i'm not- i'm not peter," peter said, laughing nervously.

"can you not, babe? i'm in a dilemma. like, dilemma dilemma. no joking right now. like... you're here. right now. in front of me... but... you're dead."

"i'm not peter, and not dead." he added.

"hon, we've literally been over this. i know you're spider-man. remember when i walked into you changing out of the suit? because, like, not to brag, i knew something was up."

"look, lady, i've got no idea who you are, but you need to chill. i don't know who you think i am, but i'm certainly not him. please let me take you home, or to your asylum, or wherever it is that you live."

"pete, this isn't funny."

"yeah, i get that. and i'm not peter."

"yes, you are. you're peter parker, age nineteen, you live with your aunt, and you swing around in speedos all day for fun. i think i know who my fucking boyfriend is, all right? now tell me what's going on, like, right now."

he was speechless, and i took that as an opportunity to rip his mask off his face, causing him to yelp in shock. i could see anger knitted onto his eyebrows, and tucked fiercely behind his eyes. "what the hell-!"

in every way possible, he was peter benjamin parker. except one.

i ran my thumb over his left cheekbone, brushing the spot gently.

my peter parker had a scar across that part of his skin, and i knew that because i kissed him there every morning. right? ...right?

so what on earth was going on?

"you- you don't..." i took a half step back, and i knew he said something, but i couldn't hear him. my heart was thudding so loudly in my chest, i could hear it in my ears. when i turned around, i saw a large building, and on it was a giant "a", lit up and shining like a christmas tree.

since when was that there? since when was...?

and the more i looked, the more i could pick things out. many, many things. like the fact that there was a delmar's? as far as i knew, that didn't exist. it didn't... it wouldn't- but then what was i looking at? what was happening?

my head was aching, and it felt like the migraine i had would kill me.

fuzzy images swirled around in my brain, pressed towards the back of my head.

"-under arrest."

"she can't-"

screaming.

"-murdered harry-"

"he tried to-"

"-killed peter.

"peter-... suicide-"

"no-"

fuzzy again.

more screaming.

"-doesn't justify her actions-"

"she-"

god, the screaming. it was drilling itself into my head, burning into my memory. and it wouldn't stop. it wouldn't- wouldn't stop.

peter was dead. harry was dead. and i was wanted for- no. no, no, no, this couldn't be happening. i was- i-

i took another step forward and i felt the the floor behind me disappear. only then did it hit me that i was on the high piller of a big bridge. i heard a thwip behind me. and i was pulled back, my back hitting something. tilting my head up, i saw peter's (was it even him?) confused expression, before it morphed into something of understanding. like he knew somthing i didn't.

"you're right. i am peter parker. but i'm not your peter parker. i, uh, i'm not really sure how to explain it, but this isn't your universe."

"i- i don't-"

"i know, i know. i can help you, but only if you trust me. can you do that?"

i didn't even comprehend the fact i was nodding, because not even a second later, i was holding onto him for dear life and swinging.

-

things had happened (not many) since i'd met him. met? was that the right word? because i'd met him before, and god, i'd done a little more than just love him. but i think this was different. maybe because i... i was in a different universe? multiverse? he tried to explain it to me, but my brain still hadn't caught up.

also, i cried.

a lot.

and then i stopped. because my tear ducts were dead, and it didn't feel real. so i ignored anything that had already happened, and focused on what was about to happen.

everything was hazy, and i couldn't figure it out.

for some reason, being near this peter made me feel safe. because he looked the same, talked the same, and acted the same. i pulled his hands to me, holding them in mine. my lips were pressed in a thin line, and my eyes were watering, briming with tears.

he could tell i was scared. i think he was, too, because he didn't let go. he stayed by me.

when would i go home? go back to peter? not any peter, my peter. was i even going to get to go home?

i wasn't alone here. we were in some... basement? it doesn't matter. anyways, there were other people. three were in some weird cell thing, and there was a boy, maybe around peter's age, talking to another man.

he was tall and had a fancy looking cape around him that i could only wish i had. he was awesome, i decided.

"hey, uh, girl," he nodded towards me, and on instict i sat up a little straighter. "do me a favor, yeah?" he asked me, but i got the sense that it was rhetorical, so i didn't answer. "go- go stand over there," the man squinted and pointed his finger toward a small corner, secluded slightly."

"dr. strange?" peter inquired, "what are you-"

"uh-bup-bup-bup. no talking, spiderling."

i made brief contact with the curly hair boy and dropped my hands, standing up to do what he was saying. at this point, i'd figured that it was better not to question cape guy. but the second i got there, i hear a whoosh of air behind me. turning around, i saw that they were trapped in the same translucent cage.

"hey!" peter yelled, "what the fuck did you do? does it look like she's of any harm at all?"

i paused. they weren't in it. i was. sucking in a breath, i stumbled backwards, hitting the wall. i just wanted to go home. i didn't ask for this. i didn't ask for any of this. i just wanted to go home. to peter. to my peter.

"what's the point, anyways?" strange retorted. "she can't go home, now can she? and she sure as hell can't stay here."

peter didn't say anything, so strange continued. "she's gonna die, peter, and there's nothing we can do." he looked at me, "i'm sorry."

"no," i murmured, so quietly i was suprised to hear myself. "you aren't sorry. don't shit yourself. you don't care. and why would you? this doesn't concern you, you selfish bastard."

"she can stay here," ned piped up. "with us. s-she can help us- an-and..."

"yeah!" peter exclaimed. my heart beat a little faster then.

strange sighed and shook his head, "i don't think you understand the consequences-"

"so what do i do then? go ahead, enlighten me. take her home to die? because, yeah, that makes me a great hero."

"kid, it's not about-"

"she's staying. she's helping us send them home... and then- and then she can stay." he looked over at me, "you do want to stay, right?"

i shrugged. what was left at home for me anyways? death row? maybe i could have a fresh start. here, with... peter. could he be my peter?

"yes. i do."

"then it's settled, let her out," ned declared.

-

pete and i were outside, on the roof. we weren't talking, but the silence between us was enough. i lit small blue sparks in my hand, playing with them. it was nice. it was comforting.

"so, uh- woah. that- that's awesome!"

i looked over at him. "huh? oh. yeah. i'm like you, but not."

he looked confused, so i took it upon myself to elaborate.

"well, you're spider-man. i'm- i'm ghost spider. long story. don't wanna go into it."

"it's okay. i can't do that. i can stick to walls," he grinned, making me snicker.

"oh, what a skill."

"how'd you get here?" peter asker, once the giggles died down.

i sucked in a breath, "harry osborne? i don't think you have one. he was my peter's best friend. got into an argument because harry was sick and he needed peter's blood to... i dunno, heal? get better? anyways, peter wouldn't give it to him because of the possible effects his blood could have, because of the spider bite."

he nodded, signaling me to continue, "harry pulled some crazy shit, turned into a crazy flying green man... and... he killed my peter." my voice cracked towards the end.

"i- i'm so sorry."

"it's okay. harry made it look like a suicide, but i knew. i knew and that was enough. harry owed oscorp, which is like the stark industries. who's gonna pin it on a rich white man? no one. i guess i had enough... and i killed him. the world found out and they all wanted ghost-spider dead. so... yeah. i don't really remember how exactly, but i fell from a clock tower. i know that if i tried, i could've saved myself. but i- i didn't want to."

"i'm sorry." he said again, because what else was there to say? "i lost my... you."

"what?"

"my mj. strange says there's a version of every person in every alternate universe. mj was you. i couldn't save her."

"that's the worst part of this job. you can't save the ones that matter the most."

"yeah," he murmured solemnly.

"i'm glad that if i'm stuck here, i'm stuck here with you."

he smiled, dropping his head onto my lap, and i quietly played with his hair.

-

"oh my god. we did it. we- we did it!"

"yeah," he said quietly.

"oh, peter, i'm so, so, so sorry. about- about all this. about may, and about the whole world, well, except me, forgett-"

"it's okay," peter smiled softly, pulling me close to him. "because... at least i got something good out of it," and with that, i'm proud to say, he kissed me.

yes, we were still grieving. but it would be okay. because we'd do it together.

my peter.

[therizino-ao3]

Hermit Horror Week 2023

Day one: Game Mechanics

Summary: Bdubs wants to sleep. Something deep and primal tells him no.

Read on ao3

Contains: Insomnia, general creepiness, sickness, weird time shenanigans

It is getting late.

And, if you know anything about dear old Bdubs, you’d know sleep is his thing! Wake at nine, sleep at nine. He is the Sleep Master, the Sleep King, the Sleep Champion, even. If someone has an issue with something sleep related, say, insomnia or sleep paralysis or pain in the morning, they come to him. He won’t lie and say sleeping is always easy – sometimes getting in the right mood for rest is really hard! – but he has a whole bunch of tricks just for that. There’s never been a night where he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

Until now.

It’s stupid, there’s nothing wrong. Well, there should be nothing wrong. He’s tried everything, but nope, no effect. He’s so tired it’s a struggle to keep his eyes open for longer than a few seconds, but as soon as he begins to drift off, a stinging, intangible fear grips him and jerks him awake. He feels almost sick – his body begging him for rest and not allowing a drop of it. Time feels weird. He stares at the clock on his bedside, his vision so blurry he can’t make anything out. Hours or minutes could have passed and he’d be none the wiser.

He does have a – well, calling it a theory makes it sound more concrete than it is, it’s really more of a hunch. He has a hunch what’s behind all this: Etho. The only thing that’s changed about his Monolith from last night to now, is Etho moving into his basement. Hah, what would Cleo think of that? She’d probably make some joke about how, of course he’d be staying up late thinking about Etho. Very fricking funny. Bdubs suspects it’s actually some evil redstone thing Etho has done, a weird prank. What better to mess with Bdubs with other than his favourite thing - sleep? Well, he’ll be having words.

It takes him a further five minutes to convince himself to get up, and as soon as he does, he regrets it. His legs can hardly carry him and the world won’t stop spinning. He heaves himself across the room to the stairs, just now beginning to understand the difficulty of his mission. Thankfully, the further he gets from the bed, the better he feels. But, it still isn’t easy.

He shuffles down the steps, one foot at a time. He must be several flights lower by now, surely? He didn’t bring any torches with him and he can hardly see a thing. The sky outside is dark and foggy and endlessly black. As he meanders his way past some crates (in a very inconvenient but very aesthetically pleasing location), he thinks. Knowing all things to know about sleep, he’s picked up some legends. One says that it’s physically impossible to sleep when you’re near something unsafe – something your animal brain recognises as bad, that is, like a natural predator. It’s stupid. Etho isn’t a scary beast, he’s just an insanely cool guy! Bdubs doesn’t even know if it’s true, he’s never had the chance to test it, y’know, being smart enough not to fall asleep when next to a creeper or whatever. Besides, there are some stupid legends out there. Like the myth you swallow seven spiders a year in your sleep. But, he can’t get the idea out of his mind. He wants to. He dreads to think about the questions it raises. Yet, deep in his gut, he knows it’s right. He can’t sleep because his body is protecting him; there’s danger lurking nearby.

And nearby he goes! He opens the door to the basement. He did some great work making it atmospheric, he thinks, though right now the atmosphere really isn’t helping. He sees Etho on the staircase down, the one with the big drop either side.

Etho is standing there, illuminated in the candlelight, his dark clothes soaking up the shadow and his pale skin appearing ghostly, pure chiaroscuro. He’s staring right at Bdubs, or, staring at the place Bdubs happens to be standing. His eyes are wide and glistening.

“Hey, um, Etho,” Bdubs stumbles over his words, “How’s it going?”

“Hmm?” Etho snaps to attention, “Oh hey Bdubs! What are you doing up so late? Have you given up on being the Sleep King?”

Etho’s familiar mannerisms soothe him, instantly, and he feels a tension ebb from his shoulders that he didn’t even know was there. He’s about to reply to Etho, with some false annoyance and silly voice, but, something’s still not right. Etho stands there, same place. He hasn’t moved. Bdubs thinks about how much taller Etho is than him, and how he’s probably a faster runner than he is, and how he could probably definitely take Bdubs down in a fight. He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about that. Etho is staring at him. One of his eyes are red, which is such a weird detail to think about. Etho got it blinded somehow – for the same reason he has a scar – and later replaced it with a redstone eye of his own design. Bdubs knows this. Redstone glows in the dark. The eye is glowing. It’s watching him.

It's been too long, he should have replied by now. With everything to say, he settles on, “I, uh, can’t sleep.”

“Alright,” Etho doesn’t blink, “And?”

“Well, I don’t know! I thought you might have something to do with it! It only started when you got here,” he’s back to playing with his usual fake temper. His voice is loud and echoes through the chamber.

“Not anything I’m doing purposefully,” Etho replies.

“Hmmph,” Bdubs feels like he should be saying more. He just really wants to leave, “Alright then.”

Etho doesn’t say anything as Bdubs turns around. Bdubs doesn’t hear him make any noises, either. Before he knows it, he’s back in his room. He can’t even remember the trudging climb back up the stairs. He should. Time feels weird.

He lays back in bed. If he could, he’d be sleeping over at someone else’s house tonight but, well, he’s the only one that’s bothered to build a bedroom. Most of the hermits are insomniacs. Including Etho, he supposes, who was standing there in the dead of night doing… What was he doing? It doesn’t matter. The point is, Bdubs can’t sleep, and he still doesn’t know why.

[jhilsara]

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Chapter 6

It’s late, or early. She isn’t really certain. She is more than sure she's exhausted.

MJ is dragging her feet trying to get home at three in the morning. She’s ready to pass out after the shift she'd had at the pub. It had been a long night and it doesn't help that she's been on edge at work since some creepy man had tried to attack her. Not the highlight of her time working as a bartender.

The police did eventually show up and apprehend the man. Andy and Lars had stayed behind to call him in and also explain what happened. Her lead manager that had been dismissive of MJ's worries was promptly fired after. The owner apparently was not made aware of any of her concerns. Lars also wasn't alone as the bouncer anymore. The owner had hired two security posts for every night now, hoping to dissuade another incident.  

MJ's therapist had more than enough to unpack with her that month. She did feel leaps better after the owner profusely apologized about the lead manager ignoring her worries. That made her feel more supported.

Truly after her long shift, she just wants to go home. She was making plans to herself to put on her big hoodie and crawl into her warm bed after the hottest shower. Maybe even have a little snack. 

She slides her key into the door and is almost drooling at the thought of her soft, plushy bed. She shuffles in and trips over something in the entryway. She looks down and almost screams when she sees Hobie leaning against her wall and bleeding out on her floor. It looks like a crime scene with the lights off.

She throws her bag on the ground and turns on her light. She squats down in front of him checking his pulse making sure he’s alive. She moves to grab his face, holding it gently to make him look at her. His face was dirty, caked in blood and grime. Blood dripping down his forehead and lips. 

“Hey, hey, Hobie. I need you to look at me right now.” She pleads, voice a little pitched.

He barely peels his eyes open, he’s looking at her, but not really. More like he’s looking through her. He grunts in response. His eyes are blurry and she doesn't think he knows where he even is. 

“How long have you been here?” She asks moving his hand to look at the wound he’s been clutching at his side. There’s a decent pool of blood underneath him that looks to have been sitting there for a while.

“Couple a minutes, an hour… I don’t know…” He murmurs, his head lolling off to the side. His eyes start closing again, clearly a losing fight to stay awake. Which she needs him awake because she has no idea if he has a concussion. 

“Hey, nu-uh, you can’t do that right now. I need you to be present with me okay? I don’t know where you’re hurt.” She whispers to him. She holds his head back up, forcing him to look at her. Her brows furrowed in concern.

He nods his head, struggling to keep his eyes open. He's only half listening to her, but he is doing as she asks. 

Since finding out Hobie was Spider-Man he had started a habit of using her home like a 24/7 clinic. The first time he rolled into her home she yelled at him as he tumbled face first into her rug. She had to learn how to clean and dress wounds on the spot. She chastised him all the way through it. He scared the living daylights out of her and on top of that he just sat there laughing like it wasn't a big deal.

This though, this is the worst she’s seen him. There's so much blood and he doesn't look okay at all. His eyes can't focus on her and the distant look in his eyes scares her.

She moves to grab her medical kit, “What happened?” she prods trying to figure out what trouble he got into. 

“Not a big deal,” He tries to shrug but hisses in pain, “just got nicked by the Goblin is all.” He replies slurring his words together.

She bends down next to him and gives a disappointed look. “It is a big deal if you’re bleeding out on my floor.” She tells him with a slight scoff. “Can you take your shirt off or do I need to cut it?” she asks him digging around for her safety scissors.

He gives a soft chuckle but does as he’s told. His top clings to his skin and it's sticky where his bloods dried. He groans in pain as he peels the dried blood off of him with his top. “We should go on a date before I strip for ya.” He teases.

She rolls her eyes, “If you’re coherent enough to joke I should be meaner to you.” She mumbles to herself.

She grabs some alcohol to clean up his injury with from her medical kit. She soaks up a soft hand towel to start cleaning around his wounds.

“Oh come on, ya love it.” He says reaching for her hand so she’ll look up at him.

Her fierce gaze flashes to him and his face falters a bit. She knows she's being harsh, but she's never seen him so beat up. It scares her. Maybe it's because she childishly believes he's invincible. This is a hard moment as she realizes he can get hurt.

“What I would love right now, is for you to shut up so I can clean you up enough for you to take a shower without bleedin’ all over my bathroom.” She states giving him a pointed look. 

He nods his head silently and lets her work.

She cleans the area surrounding his wound, he’s mostly stopped bleeding but it’s a nasty gash. Once it’s clean she can disinfect. She looks closer at his wound and assesses his face too. He’s got a few good scraps along his brow bone and one of his piercings definitely looks like it’s caused some damage. Almost like his eyebrow piercing ripped out.

She quietly continues to work, ignoring Hobie’s grunts and hisses of pain as she cleans his face. Her brow furrowed in concentration. She's afraid if she pauses and looks him in the eye she won't be able to finish. She wants to scream at him to be more careful, but she also just wants to hold him tightly and protect him.

“Anywhere else that was bleedin’?” she asks him softly.

He shakes his head no. She pats his thigh reassuringly. “Go take a shower and let me know when you’re done. I need to bandage you but you need a shower first.” She tells him.

He groans but lets her help him stand up. “Don’t leave a mess in there alright?” she teases him lightly.

“No promises, I’m pretty grimy.” He jokes as he shuts the bathroom door.

She smiles and turns to grab the discarded pieces of his suit. She throws them in her washer and waits to run it when she can grab the rest of it from the bathroom. She moves to set up the couch for him to sleep on.

There’s no way she was letting him go back this late after just dressing his injuries. She grabs her spare sheets and blankets, preparing the couch for him. She throws one of her pillows down for him as well.

She hears the bathroom door creak after a while and turns to see him poking his head out. He already looks a lot better. Relief washes over her and she relaxes a bit. She grabs the medical kit again and goes to wrap him up.

Hobie leans his weight against her bathroom counter. He's just in a towel wrapped lazily around his waist.

She takes a deep breath and adjusts her eyes up. She forgot to give him clothes. Her face is burning but she tries to refocus on bandaging him.

“You look better already.” She comments. She grabs the gauze and bandages to wrap him. She’s so close to him, eye level with his broad chest. She should be used to it by now but her ears are burning. She can feel his eyes on her, and he gives a halfhearted chuckle.

“I feel better that’s for sure.” He murmurs.

She starts to wrap him, eyes trying to keep focused on her task, and not lower to where the towel is barely hanging on his hips. She's definitely not looking over his toned body. She can keep her eyes focused, this is not the time to be checking him out. 

She’s so intentional with every motion. She’s slow and deliberate, making sure she treats his wounds correctly.

She doesn’t notice him move until she feels him brush her hair off her shoulders. The action has her taking a shuddering breath. She looks up at him questioningly.

His own face is in scrunched up in thought. He keeps her hair between his fingers as he looks lost in his own head.

She finishes wrapping his chest before looking back up at him. She gently uses her hand to make him turn to look at her.

“So serious, what’s rattling around in that brain?” She tries to joke, but it falls into more of a genuine question. Her voice quiet.

He looks at her face and meets her question with silence. Contemplating his own response. He stares at her and he’s doing that thing again. He’s looking at her in a way that feels like he’s peeling back layers of her soul, exposing herself to him. She feels barren and unguarded, it scares her.

“Nothin’. Just thinkin’. Brain got all rattle remember?” He says softly tapping his brow. He immediately regrets it, hissing as he hits his own injury.

She gives a soft giggle and lets it slide for the moment. She reaches up, “Let me bandage that, your piercing got pretty fucked right there.” She tells him focusing her attention on that.

He hums in agreement. His hands coming down to grip the counter edge. His grips is so tight it leaves small cracks along her counter. Clearly trying to hide how much he's been hurting tonight. He's a good patient in that he never complains, but sometimes she wished she did. Maybe he just has a high pain tolerance or maybe he just doesn't want her to worry. She'd worry regardless though.

At the end of the day, she'd still rather him crawl into her window every night regardless of his injuries. At least she'd know he was alive. See his chest rise and fall as he breathes.

When she’s done she looks at him, his eyes have just been burning holes into her. She flushes for a moment, she was so lost in thought she didn't notice him staring. Their faces are so close, too close. She swallows hard and takes a step back, “I’ll uh, I’ll grab some spare clothes you’ve left here before… I can just throw your suit in the wash.” She tells him softly, her face burning.

She turns to go into her room, grabbing his clothes and returning to shove them in his hands. He hands over his own dirtied and blood-stained suit to her.

“Thanks Mariana.” He tells her softly pulling her into him with a one armed hugged. For someone so injured, his grip was still strong. 

A chill runs down her spine at him using her name, “It’s no big deal.” She mutters returning the embrace.

She moves away to close the bathroom door and she leans against it. Her head hitting the door as she looks up trying to control her rapidly beating heart.

He can’t keep looking at her with those big brown eyes that crack her open. If he does she might have to acknowledge the fact she’s starting to like him.

She doesn’t think she can handle those far too big feelings right now. So, she shoves them down, under the surface. She can’t think about him like that.

[snock-ock]

Spider-Man: Octopus Girl Screenshots & potential Spoilers

Alrighty, I pretty much forgot about the release date of this manga- SORRY!

But it's available online and boy oh boy am I happy about it! It got an interesting story and it's actually kinda cute?

I was scared of it being a little creepy but I gotta admit that it's really good and funny.

The ending had a bit of a plot twist and I'm unsure if we'll get more or not?

I kinda hope we do!

Now here are some (blurry) screenshots of Otto and funny scenes because srsly they really did their best with this concept!

(Tumblr only allows 10 pics but I'll talk more about the manga in other posts!)

[parkerpeter24]

4 months post spell, reader is cleaning her room bcz she is moving to uni. She comes across a box labeled "open me when sad or just looking for happiness" she opens it leading to smack of memories and recalls the boy she meets almost daily in park at eve.

Take it over bro, i trust u with this piece. 😘

hope this turned out nice <3

pairing : mcu!peter x reader

nwh masterlist 🕸️

four months since the multiversal chaos. all it took was a few minutes to make everything go back to normal, as peter thought of it, but nothing was normal since.

he lost.

the one time spider-man didn’t fight, instead trying to heal all the bad guys he’d thought would die without his help, he lost the most important people in his life. he lost may, ned, mj and you.

he lost his own identity, now no one knew him as peter parker. he was just another face in the crowd and sometimes peter thought it all was for the better— everything was better now— but other times, he missed the days he used to go on those little walks with you. he missed them more than anything. you both had bonded over the evenings where you went on and on about your day, making silly jokes to get a little laugh out of the brunette, and he’d do the same.

what he wouldn’t do to have that again with you. now it felt like all peter could do was catch a glimpse of you whenever he was on a patrol, passing by your old apartment or your favourite coffee shop where you two used to sit for hours, completing your homeworks.

you were recently packing your stuff because you were finally going to move to a dorm at your uni. you couldn’t believe you got into the college of your dreams and even though it was a bit far from your friends, ned, harry and mj, it was still worth it.

peter had finished his patrol for the day and was sitting on a rooftop across your apartment with his favourite delmar’s sandwich in his hands. he watched down through your open window— not in a creepy way, he just liked watching the skyline from this roof, as the two of you did when things were normal— as you shuffled through your wardrobe.

you were searching for any more stuff to pack around your room when your eyes fell on a red, velvety corner of what you could only assume to be a jewellery box, except that when you pulled it out it looked way bigger for a jewellery box.

it appeared dusty, as if it hadn’t been touched in several weeks, or even months. four months.

you brushed your fingers over the 3-digit combination lock that was protecting the contents inside it and for some reason the numbers 108 danced before your eyes. it was someone’s birth date but you couldn’t really recall whose.

on the inside of the lid was a sticky note, inscribed on which were the words, “for when you miss me.” your brows furrowed as you plucked the piece of paper and examined it. whom was this note even refering to, you wondered.

the next thing you noticed were the two tickets to a star wars movie. you picked them up after placing the note down over your carpet, the material of the pink coloured receipt sparking a memory in your brain but it was too blurry.

“okay, my eyes are closed.” you smiled, holding out your hands as he sat beside you. the two of you had taken another trip down to the park in the evening. the weather was cloudy and you hadn’t brought an umbrella but he wanted to show you something special so you just sat on the bench and did as he said.

you sighed, not being able to recall who he was.

there was some shuffling as the brunette pulled out something from his pocket, holding it right it front of your eyes, “you can open ‘em now!” you could practically hear the grin in his voice.

“oh my god...” you mumbled, discarding the tickets right beside the note from earlier before going back to shuffling through the contents of the box until your hand wrapped around a weird device covered in webs

“come on, cheer up, (y/n)!” peter nudged your side as the two of you entered the huge opera hall behind the rest of your classmates.

“i don’t see a reason to cheer up, pete. it’s gonna be four hours of opera tonight, and we just missed the coolest carnival for it all!”

that night, peter had told you to stay in for the opera show as you saw your classmates sit beside each other in the, almost empty, theatre. you obviously hadn’t listened as you followed him outside through the exit.

not to your surprise, just a few minutes later you were witnessing a fight between a weird lava monster and peter, who was now dressed in a suit nothing akin to his original one. this one was black. you remembered betty had called for his help, refering to him as ‘night monkey’.

the piece of metal in your hands was a remnant of that fight in prague. those webs belonged to peter.

“peter..” you mumbled the name. it rolled off your tongue so easily, like you were used to saying it.

unbeknownst to you, peter had travelled down the roof of the opposite building as soon as he saw you pull out the box full of memories. his senses went into an overdrive as he heard his name pass your lips through the partly open window and all he wanted to do was reach out.

but he waited and watched you pull out a letter from the box. the envelope was torn from the sides and it looked like it had been read ages ago before being stored but it had just been four months.

“you’re going to forget me.” he mumbled.

“that’s not a possibility.” you chuckled, assuring him as the two of you looked at the stars above. peter had brought you to his favourite spot after a dinner date at your house– going out was not a preference after mysterio revealed his identity– and the topic had somehow rose, “i do think, however that you could forget me, now that you’re famous.”

you heard him chuckle at your comment, turning to look at the brunette and noticed his eyes were already on you. both of you leaned into a soft kiss, your hand caressing peter’s cheek as his lips moulded against yours.

peter was the first to break the kiss, taking a deep breath, “how about i write you a letter just in case you forgot me.”

“how about i do the same.”

you hadn’t even noticed that you were crying till you felt the tears fall onto the back of your hand. peter’s heart ached watching you wipe the tears off your face but he wasn’t sure what to do. he watched you place the letter back into the box and place the lid to enclose the contents, losing all hope that you could ever remember him.

but the next second, you picked up your phone and dialled a number. and peter recieved a call.

you had remembered his phone number.

taglist | masterlist 🕸️

@httphollands @the-girl-in-the-chair @spideyspeaches @prancerrparkerr @usergarfields @theglitterymess @quaksonhehe @lowkey-holland @starlight-starks @piscesparker @incorrectsourwolf @wildxwidow @blankspaceblankday @raajali3 @kelieah @arvinsvintage @parkersdahlia @icarusafety @uwiuwi @tommyfroggie @saturnpeter @ellabellabus07 @comfort-reads @holland-styles @glowunderthemoon

[nightmarish-fae]

spider, hiding in the corner (tara x reader)

this is a very short blurb inspired by my spider antics and the fact that there is not enough tara love. a gift for @prentiss-theorem who is my best thirsting buddy. 

(i literally wrote this in 15 minutes, it’s probably not very good. whatever.)

--

Tara shut the door to Emily’s office behind her with a smile, reaching for her phone as soon as it buzzed in her pocket. The case was nothing pleasant and she was excited to get home. To you. The two of you have known each other for years. The relationship, the living together was a fairly new development. The feelings, however, weren't. 

And Tara couldn’t be happier. Just a message from you made her heart jolt.

Hey T, are you getting home anytime soon?

Yeah, we just got in, about to leave. Why? How come you're up this late?

The chat was quiet for a while, bubbles popping up for a bit. What followed made Tara chuckle loudly.

BECAUSE THERE IS A FUCKING SPIDER THE SIZE OF THE HOUSE JUST SKEEDADLING OVER THE FLOOR AND I AM PRETTY SURE IT WILL MURDER ME IN MY SLEEP.

A second after, a blurry video of a suspiciously big something moving across their bedroom carpet appeared, accompanied by a decent bit of panicked shrieking.  Tara was glad it was late enough so nobody could hear her laughter.

Yeah, that seems like a serious situation. Hang on, I'll be there soon. ❤️

Yes please, love you T. 💖💖

—-

"Babe? I'm home!"

"In here!" 

Your voice was faint, coming from the bedroom. Tara quickly shrugged off her jacket and shoes, only to find you crouched on a chair in what had to be the world's most uncomfortable position, eyes trained on the bed. Normally, you would be all over Tara when she returned home from a case. But a giant home invader that got lost somewhere under the bed took importance.

"Great. You are here, brave and I need you to save me."

Now, Tara wasn't the greatest spider lover, but she wasn't terrified of them. And there was very little she wouldn’t do for you. And so she searched, very carefully. And thoroughly. For about thirty minutes. Except the spider was nowhere to be found. It just disappeared, in all it's fuzzy, creepy crawly glory.

And you weren’t thrilled. At all. Convincing you to get into the bed took all of Tara's power. Eventually, the fact that you haven't seen each other for a week won.

But even cuddled together, hands tracing gentle paths over each other's body, the spider threat didn't go away.

"Babe, just go to sleep. The spider won't climb over you, I promise. I'll protect you, hmmm?"

You tilted your face into the kisses Tara was brushing over your cheeks, nuzzling even closer to her.

"Mhmmmmm…okay. But only because I trust my strong, brave FBI agent to keep me safe."

Tara couldn’t help but laugh. She adored you, even with your penchant for dramatics.

"Sleep. Now."

"Yes ma'am."

[sablegear0]

Finally cracked into Metroid Prime Remastered last night. So far it’s been a mix of me whipping through the gameplay because I’m very familiar with enemy behaviours and gimmicks, and me standing around admiring the scenery and geeking out about the level of detail introduced. Played all the way up to the second visit to the Ruins after getting Spider Ball, utterly in my glory, before getting tired and having to stop.

There are some details that I miss, which I'm sure everyone has heard by now (beam lighting is a sore loss with the thermal visor changed to a blurry mess, the doors don’t look quite right, no reflection in the Ruins mirrors did make me a little sad), but some of the work put into visually sprucing up the game had me giggling with delight if not gobsmacked with awe.

Some of the things that stuck out to me were:

Parasite Queen got a makeover; she’s much more plated and creepy now.

Flaahgra got some texture upgrades; its flower is now distinctly fleshy and you can spot a new idle animation through the door rather than the bloom being a static model.

They actually animated Samus doing a proper roll in the Flaahgra intro cutscene, where it had been a brief duck into morphball mode previously. Both are good but the effort pleases me.

Stone and architecture textures look great, more distinct markings on a lot of stuff in the ruins, including a few new decorative textures. (Notably the base of the halfpipe in the Ruins plaza; it looks like they’ve taken some cues from the SkyTown aesthetic for their fill-in decorative textures which is a very nice nod)

Columnar basalt in Magmoor! Which may have appeared in some capacity in the original but it is lovingly sculpted and appears in a handful of rooms, flowing naturally out of the smoother lava-rock formations. Neat stuff.

Dynamic heat-shimmer in Magmoor. For an example, the room just before the first elevator to Phendrana abuts a room with magma in it; closer to the magma there is heat-shimmer, but further away there is not. Again, this may have appeared in the original and I just never noticed, but the effect is much more pronounced here and it looks good

Rain effects remain gorgeous on the visor. The artifact temple’s window has an animated ‘rain on glass’ texture that had me staring at it for a while.

Moving clouds! Notably in Phendrana but other areas may have them as well, the skyboxes have an extra layer so they’re not just static painted images but have some cloud movement to them that looks decently realistic.

The snow-on-stone texture looks great. I don't know how to describe it but it has a realistically wind-scraped look, which adds a lot of life. GC Phendrana had very neat snow-caps on everything, which to be fair has aged well, but the gradient shown by the new textures feels very real.

The Switch appears in the options menu. Maybe this is a silly thing to marvel at but there’s a very detailed model of a Nintendo Switch where once was a GameCube (Or whatever was in he Trilogy version, I don’t actually know.)

Will report more as I go through. Needless to say I am deeply enjoying myself.

[palmofafreezinghand]

request by @acewardcullen "Can I have fic Edward and Esme goofing around back when it was just the two of them while Carlisle was at work?"

Edward had wanted to hate Esme from the moment Carlisle had first thought of her, fleetingly,  one stormy night when Edward had dared ask if there was anyone he had ever considered changing before him. He really wanted to hate her when she showed up cradled in the doctor’s arms, her spine crooked, and thoughts grating. He told himself he hated her those first few weeks when she took all of Carlisle’s attention with her curiosity and forgiveness. 

Edward Masen had failed, miserably, at hating Esme Platt. 

She had been in their lives for less than two months and had quickly wormed her way into Edward’s affections. With Carlisle working night shifts at the hospital, Edward and Esme spent most evenings alone together. 

“What was that?” Edward exclaimed, halting his piano playing to hone in on the quick thought of an easel and paint set, sandwiched between memories of her childhood. Her thoughts jumped to creepy bugs she knew would make him itch. 

“Stop thinking of centipedes!” Edward squirmed. 

Esme attempted to respond, her thoughts jumbled, her words cut off by her uncontrollable laughter. She had found his aversion to bugs with too many legs — centipedes, millipedes, silverfish, pillbugs, spiders — entirely by accident. She had found a centipide in the attic and promptly tried to show it to him which sent him screaming out of the house, like a little toddler she had thought in the moment while she chased him with said centipede, like a toddler he had thought. 

“It was nothing,” she said when she finally caught her breath. 

“It was an easel. You paint?” 

“No,” she said, but her thoughts gave way to hazy memories of blurry doodles in the margins of books, framed images on her bedroom wall, sitting in the branches of an apple tree with a heavy book in her lap and a piece of charcoal staining her fingers. 

The past two months had been spent simply trying to keep her alive and get her through every twenty-four period as stable as possible, they failed often. There simply hadn’t been time or energy to ask about her past hobbies, she was slowly working her way through Carlisle’s extensive library but could be most often found turning over her own thoughts while listening to Edward play the piano. He never played the piano more than in those past two months desperately trying to distract her from some more horrifying memories. 

“You like art,” Edward stated as he rushed out of the room. He came back a second later with an empty leather-bound journal from Carlisle’s study and a pencil and shoved the materials in Esme’s lap. Her arms were crossed over her chest, an unthreatening glare on her face as she looked up at him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, looking down at the book. ‘This is far too nice. Did he steal this from Dr. Cu– Carlisle?’ 

“He’ll forgive me, it’s for you. Draw.” 

Esme’s frown deepened, upsetting Carlisle, really anyone but especially Carlisle, was unfathomable to her. Her thoughts were racing a mile a minute, fantasizing about the disappointment on the doctor’s face — a sight she had yet to ever see but was convinced was only a matter of time — as he chided them for stealing his things. 

“Fine,” Edward sighed. “Sit here all night bored beyond belief, your choice.” He took a seat at his piano, he made it six bars into his song of choice before her theatrical sigh and loud thoughts interrupted him. 

“If I draw will you stop playing that god awful screeching?” 

“It is frankly comical how much you hate jazz,” Edward smiled, turning on his stool to face her. 

‘Is that what you call it?’ She thought with scorn. “I don’t know what you want me to draw.” 

“Anything you want. The world is your oyster, Esme.” 

Her frown was going to become permanent at this rate but she eventually opened the journal to the first page. Edward went back to his playing, an original composition this time, as she thought over her plan of attack. 

Three minutes later he was once again stopping his playing, watching her page – through her mind — and his keys turned out to be quite a challenge, especially when the image she was blocking out was of him. 

She continued chipping away at the image as he took a seat on her armrest, watching the page over her shoulder. Her thoughts indicated she did not even notice he moved. 

The image forming on the paper was clear talent. It was like the first time he looked at his mother’s needlepoint for the first time, or watched Carlisle operate — through memories he had yet to work up the strength to sit in an operating theater — or listened to the Chicago Symphony live. 

He likened those moments to church, the reverent revelation, the moment everything in life made sense. Edward was still waiting for this moment for himself. 

When she finished the sketch of Edward at the piano she moved onto attempting to sketch Carlisle’s face. Edward let out a bark of laughter before he could stop himself. 

Esme startled and looked up to the piano stool and then quickly corrected herself and looked at him on the armrest. She slammed the journal turned sketchbook closed. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” Edward smiled. “Just find it amusing who you decided to draw.” 

“You.” 

“Who was that other guy?” Edward teased, trying to grab the book out of her hands  to look at the sketch of her infatuation. 

“No one. Hush up,” Esme said defensively, clutching the book to her chest. 

“Mhmmm.” He elbowed her lightly. “You don’t like him at all and you’re not an artist.” If Esme could blush her cheeks would have been red as her eyes.

‘Don’t tell him, please,’ she mentally begged. 

“You know I won’t tell him about the crush,” Edward affirmed, wrapping his arm lightly around her shoulders, she only flinched slightly, progress. 

“Or the drawing?” She asked, book still clutched to her chest. 

Edward saw no reason to hide it from Carlisle, he would be overjoyed Esme had an interest in anything. Perhaps that was precisely the reason she wanted to hide it. Her thoughts were already imagining an overzealous Carlisle bringing home every art supply known to man, just like he had done with her clothing, and books, and anything she had shown a mild interest in over the past two months. 

“Fine,” Edward smiled. “Our secret.”

[naavispider]

Nooo the Twitter message from Quaritch was so creepy 💀 I was half expecting there to be a blurry picture of Spider taken from behind a bush or something…

Has Spider ever actually talked with his dad, or are interactions like these all he’s known?

Hdjdjjd I’m glad the vibes were right! This is my first time trying to actually build tension in a slow burn. trying to leave enough breadcrumbs to make things interesting without being too vague about the plot is difficult! I don’t want people to be confused but I do want to reveal things slowly, if that makes sense? Idk I’ve not done this before 💀

More details about their history are revealed in chapter 3, but for now I will say that yes, spider and Quaritch have talked before, but only when spider was very little and still living with him (ie a toddler). Spider’s memories are cloudy and he can’t remember much…

Since then, Quaritch has not been allowed to see Spider. Things will be revealed why eventually! 🙌🏻

[bloodytoxicnigntmare]

System Introduction

Hello and welcome to our first introduction post. This is going to talk about the system collectively and to give you a bit of information as to who we are as a whole. I know we did a little information on the pinned post but that is about the body. Here is some information that will help you learn who we are.

Basic Information System Name: The Chimeric Hoard Collective Name: Chimera, Shade, Shadow Collective Pronouns: they/it/dark/monster/freak/black/creep Collective Gender: nonbinary, genderless, gendervoid Collective Orientation: demisexual demiromantic Bodily Age: 20 years old

System Information System Type: Highly Complex Dissociative Identity Disorder (HCDID) System Count: 600+ including fragments System Heavy In: nonhuman, queer, god, introjects Host Count: 6 hosts; 3 brain made 3 introjects Co-Host Count: 5 co-hosts; 3 brain made 2 introjects

Disorders Borderline Personality Disorder, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder, Paranoid Personality Disorder, Histrionic Personality Disorder, Dependent Personality Disorder, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Obsessive Love Disorder, Autism Spectrum Disorder, Dyslexia, Dyscalculia, Dysgraphia, Social Anxiety Disorder. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Highly Complex Dissociative Identity Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Severe Depression, Speech Disorder (stuttering), Nonverbal Learning Disorder, Intermittent Explosive Disorder, Maladaptive Daydreaming, Alexithymia, PICA Eating Disorder, Anorexia Eating Disorder, Binge Eating Disorder, Separation Anxiety Disorder, Auditory Hallucinations, Visual Hallucinations

Disabilities Scoliosis, Chronic pain, Chronic migraines, Blurry vision, Asthma, Gender Dysphoria, Body Dysphoria, Snow Vision

Fears/Phobias Atychiphobia - an intense fear of failure Autophobia - fear of being alone or lonely Haphephobia - an intense, irrational fear of being touched Philophobia - fear of love Pistanthrophobia - fear of trusting others or being hurt by someone you love Genophobia - fear of sex or sexual intimacy Animotophobia - the fear of any emotions, both pleasant and unpleasant Scopophobia - fear of being watched or stared at Acrophobia - fear of heights Arachnophobia - fear of spiders Illyngophobia - fear of dizziness and spinning Asthenophobia - fear of passing out/fainting Thanatophobia - fear of dying or the dying process

Otherkins Angelkin, Black Catkin, Cute Dollkin, Creepy Dollkin, CelestialKin, CelestialKin (space), CelestialKin (planet), CelestialKin (stars), DayKin, DragonKin (fire), DragonKin (ice), DragonKin (earth), DemonKin, DemonKin (incubus), DemonKin (succubus), GodKin, GodKin (god of pain), GodKin (god of light), GodKin (god of lust), GodKin (god of blood), GodKin (god of death), Gothic DollKin, Guy DollKin, GhostKin, NatureKin (dryad), NatureKin (Forest spirit), NightKin, PuppetKin, White CatKin

Do Not Interact (Privately) With Alter List Coming soon

[spaceacethespookypansfanfics]

Not Alone

An angsty fic set when Kevin is literally fucking stabbed?? And you know, is left alone. I dunno. I projected way to hard on this man. Enjoy.

(Edit - realised this might need content/trigger warnings, uhhh, blood, panic attacks(?) and I guess stab wound, but nothings like graphically described)

If you were to ask Kevin on any other day, he’d probably say kids are fine. Not great. But fine. Sure they can be loud, obnoxious and just downright heartless sometimes but that doesn’t mean they don’t have some good points to them.

Sometimes kids are nice. They spill their collection of stupid—ahem—cool Halloween decorations (rubber spiders, plastic skeletons and even severed hands with actual (fake) blood coming out the stump) all over your pristine glass counter cause they just wanna show it all to you. That’s cute right?

Well, if you ask Kevin today, he’d adamantly tell you kids can go to hell and they can take their creepy-ass fuckin’ murder dolls with them.

God! Damn! It!

. . .

Blood’s slippery. Kevin always thought it was sticky, he didn’t realise it could be this slippery. Guess that’s what you get for thinking coloured cornstarch would be at all identical to the real thing.

Still. This seems really slippery? Worryingly slippery? Is there something wrong with him?

His hand keeps sliding down his leg when he presses down. Pressure right? That’s what you’re supposed to do to stop from dying right? Well he’s pressing and it’s not working; his hand just keeps moving like his leg’s a damn slip’n’slide or something.

Kevin looks over at the discarded, clearly ineffectual bubblegum Bandaid (that has no doubt introduced a ton of bacteria to his exposed system) and glares at it.

Those damn kids.

This is all their fault. Every bad thing that thrusts itself upon Kevin’s unsuspecting life is always their fault.

If it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t be a living demon detector (can’t go to movie theatres anymore because his eyes glow in crowds now, it’s really distracting at the movies) if it weren’t for them, cops and dealers alike wouldn’t occasionally drop by the store for random drug busts and hold him at gun point (those do wonders for Kevin’s anxiety).

They’ve really outdone themselves this time around. Those two kids will be accredited with Kevin’s tragically and untimely but ultimately very boring death via murder doll.

Terrific.

The adrenaline has faded now. The blood just keeps going though, and Kevin doesn’t think he move anymore. Otherwise he’d be making his way over to the counter to grab his phone (he’d left it charging when he was attacked) to call for help.

He tries a subtle little shimmy to test the waters. Nope. Nope. Not happening. His entire leg is cold and hot and it’s throbbing and his hand keeps moving, it just keeps moving and moving and oh god it’s cold—it’s hot—and I’m alone— oh god I’m alone—no one’s going to find me—I’m going to die here—I’m going to die here cold and alone in a goddamn confectionery shop—I don’t even like candy—

“Kevin? You in there?” The jingle of the bell pulls Kevin from his torrential thoughts. The lights are still off and his vision is too blurry with tears and sweat, he can’t see who’s there. At least it’s someone. “Kevin?”

Wait? Is that Streber?

“Stre—Streber? I—over. . . over here.” Kevin wants to raise his voice, he wants to definitely be found but he also doesn’t want Streber to know he’s been crying either. Still that might not matter in the end of he dies here because his pride wouldn’t let him be loud enough.

There’s a quiet little gasp, the jingle of the bell, and hurried footsteps rushing towards him. Kevin wants to cry even more. Relief. Cry from relief. Not from pain. He’s not like, a baby or anything you know?

“Is—is that—is that blood?” The alarm in Streber’s voice mimics the alarm Kevin’s been feeling since he was stabbed. It makes him want to laugh. He doesn’t. Too scared it’ll hurt.

“Y—uh—yeah. It’s . . . blood. . . Was kinda stabbed. What—what are you doing here?” Kevin is slowly making out Streber’s silhouette hovering over him.

“Me? I’m—I was looking—wait nevermind that! You need to get to the hospital. Can you stand?” Streber doesn’t come any closer from what Kevin can tell, in fact, he takes a half step backwards.

Kevin places both palms flat on the floor and tries to push himself up. His right palm slips a bit on the smooth floor. Cold hot flashes run through him, the throbbing in his leg intensifying. Screaming in front of Streber would be way too embarrassing so Kevin practically shreds the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. He stops trying to get up. “Not really. Help?”

Streber hesitates again. He’s already abnormally stealthy but with the lights out and Kevin’s blurry vision, he’s especially hard to spot. Kevin would almost be scared he’s left him for dead if not for the bell staying silent.

“Streber?” Kevin knows he and Streber aren’t exactly close (they’re just barely friends through a mutual friend group) but surely Streber won’t actually leave him here?

“Right. Right. Okay. Hold on.” Streber sounds urgent and concerned. There’s a rustling of clothes and Kevin can just barely make out Streber’s quiet little muttering of effort. His muttering is replaced with the bright flash of his phone screen. Streber must be calling for help.

Good. Because the idea of only having Streber to move him to the hospital seems like cruel and unjust punishment, all that moving and jostling and bleeding, oh god it’s still bleeding—I’m still bleeding—this is it I’m going to die—

“Kevin, what’s wrong? Hey—hey! Stay with me here. Ke—Kevin, hey.” Something frigid is on Kevin’s face. It shocks his system back into order. Streber’s hands are so much colder than should be humanly possible. On any other day Kevin might hate the feel, but right now, it’s a welcomed change to the cold hot flashes he’s been experiencing.

“Breathe Kevin, it’s okay. Help’s coming.” Has Streber’s voice always been this comforting? There’s something strained about it though, like he’s clenching his teeth. Maybe he’s scared of blood.

Streber starts breathing exaggeratedly and it takes Kevin’s brain a full second to catch on that he’s supposed to copy him. But it gets there and he follow’s Streber’s example.

Once the fog clears, Kevin just wants to shut down. The throbbing in his leg hasn’t subsided but it’s numb. His eyelids are too heavy and everything’s blurry anyway so Kevin let’s them fall. He just barely hears Streber talking as he drifts.

“That’s it. Okay. It’s okay Kevin. Help’s coming. You’ll be okay.”

There’s a siren in the distance but Kevin doesn’t pay any mind to it. He’s too focused on the refreshing chill of Streber’s hands on his face and the sound of Streber’s quiet voice spilling words of comfort.

It’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s not alone.

[quietly-by-myself]

Shadow By My Fireplace - Chapter 3

Masterlist

Thank you for all the support on this story! Still in an angst-writing mood, so here you go.

CW: past slavery whump, conditioned whumpee, past intimate/creepy whumper, medical whump, noncon drugging and explicit descriptions of side effects from the medication including but not limited to sedation, paralysis, anxiety, and prolonged panic attacks, chemical restraint, begging, long-term noncon drugging, withdrawal, bone breaking, dubcon drugging by caretaker (whumpee agrees twice but the reason is dubious), mention of electrocution, whips, and nausea

===

When had Sacha first learned fear?

Of course, everyone thinks they know fear. It’s only natural to believe that fearing spiders or snakes or getting sick is knowing fear.

Sacha begged to differ.

He hadn’t known fear, not really, before he met Master. 

At first, he didn't know Master’s power. He knew that Master was powerful in the traditional sense - he had a lot of money and connections all over the world. That wasn’t the true power that Master had. No, his true power was something much more terrifying. 

He could control the mind.

He could bend it to his will and make someone do whatever he wanted, one way or another.

It was coming back to Sacha now, the day that he learned fear. He’d tried to escape, hadn’t he? He’d tried to fight back in some small way.

Oh, Master had been furious. He looked like an angry bull, ready to charge. Perhaps not a prey animal - that was Sacha. Master was closer to an angry lion that day, ready to claw apart whatever had infringed on his pride. 

The needle had taken only an instant to find purchase in Sacha’s skin. He didn’t feel it immediately, but the medication was quick to take effect. He didn’t feel anything but an overwhelming anxiety. He wanted to rip his skin off. 

However, there was an unmistakable heaviness in his limbs. When he tried to stand, he found himself so dizzy that he couldn’t move. Master ended up needing to carry him. Within minutes, his vision was blurry. He couldn’t see a damn thing.

His heart was beating so quickly that it quickly brought on a panic that just couldn’t come through. He felt like screaming, but every bone in his body was too tired to even let out a noise.

Sacha spent a day, alone, in the basement, riding wave after wave of panic that never came to pass. He hated it. He wanted to tear his clothes apart and find new ones. He wanted to run a marathon and never look back. More than anything, he wanted to let tears out. He wanted to have a panic attack - let it be done and over with instead of the constant prolonging.

How his heart sank when he saw Master with a preloaded syringe the next day.

“Please. Please. Please. Please. Don’t. Don’t do that to me again. I can’t take it.”

Back then, Sacha thought that a human plea would get through to the monster in front of him. He thought he wouldn’t be given the medicine again.

“Why, Sacha? Tell me why,” Master cooed. “Why shouldn’t I continue your punishment when you explicitly went against my rules?”

“It’s unbearable.” Sacha had not even the strength to stand and meet Master. “I’ll take anything else instead.”

“Anything else, you say?” Master had a wicked smile on his face.

“Anything.”

“Well then.” Master threw the needle in the bucket where Sacha used the toilet most days. “Let’s make sure you don’t use those feet again for a while, hmm?”

Sacha’s eyes went wide as Master took his foot in his hand. As he pulled his ankle at a terrible angle, Sacha found himself wanting to scream, but not having enough air in his lungs to make anything above a whisper. Master smiled at his silence while a giant crack filled the room.

“I like you like this.” He took the other foot and repeated the same action. Sacha wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight but the pain in his ankles was so, so bad. “We’ll do this again.”

From that day forward, when Sacha saw a needle, he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with that true fear he’d learned from Master.

Those twenty-four hours had taught him true fear.

---

Cyril knew something was wrong with the man when he got back from his hunt. It was an instinct he’d developed years ago that watched the shaking, sweating mess on his bed and knew something else was going wrong.

Immediately, Cyril took his pulse. His heart was racing. From the way the man was breathing, Cyril knew he was in pain. 

Cyril took the man’s foot in his hand and bent it a little. The muscles in the man’s leg started to contract and spasm rapidly. The man flinched away from his touch, but Cyril couldn’t tell if it was because he was scared or in pain.

I didn’t give him anything that acts on serotonin. The only other thing it could be, really, considering the circumstance is withdrawal.

Withdrawal made sense given what he'd seen so far. Who knew what the man had been given to make him stay wherever he’d been kept?

“It’s okay. I know you’re in a lot of pain right now. We can do something to ease all these horrible things you’re feeling.”

The man looked at him, afraid and reluctant. 

“These meds are going to make you feel sleepy, but they’ll relax the muscles in your legs.” Cyril bent down to his level before the man could put up any sort of protest. 

“Listen. I know your type.” Technically a lie, but Cyril was going on his best guess of what the man would say in response if he could speak. “You don’t need to suffer like this. I don’t know what you’re withdrawing from. I wish you could tell me, but it’s okay that you can’t.” Again, a lie. “I know you could get through this on your own, but you don’t have to. I won’t do anything unless you nod your head. You don’t have to walk this path alone.”

A look of consideration flashed over the man’s face, before he nodded very slightly. Cyril considered getting additional confirmation from the man, but decided against it. Just that small nod itself must’ve been difficult for him.

Cyril remembered a small bottle of lorazepam he used to have for situations like this. He drew up a very small amount in the smallest syringe he could find.

The look of horror in the man’s eyes when he saw the needle hurt Cyril’s heart.

“Are you sure?”

This time, the man nodded a bit more frantically and looked away. Cyril nodded a little to himself before he pumped the lorazepam through the man’s line. 

---

By the third day, the man’s condition was getting much better. He was responding well to the therapy with lorazepam and the antibiotics were working quickly to clear the infection. Thankfully, the man hadn’t been septic when Cyril found him. Cyril assumed that he’d been severely dehydrated, not septic, at the time, and the fluids had revived him. Cyril still had no clue what the man was withdrawing from, but he figured that he could wean the lorazepam in about a week’s time.

The man was complacent when Cyril changed his bandages. Things were looking up for the man. Cyril was relieved beyond words. He’d done the right thing. The man would survive. He didn’t let another one die.

The nights were growing colder. It was only normal for the time of year. Cyril started building fires once the man’s fear had come down.

On the second day, Cyril had come back from outside to see the man huddled by the fireplace instead of in his bed. Cyril had removed his IV line, but still worried about the injuries being shifted so much.

However, even after he kept putting the man back in bed, he always found him back by the fireplace.

The entire time, other than the little yelp of the first day, the man hadn’t made a sound. Instead, he sat there and watched the flames quietly. 

Cyril wondered what shapes the fire took on in the man’s eyes. Was he replaying memories? Did he see where he came from? What Cyril would’ve paid to know what was going through his rescue’s head.

After three days of silence with another person in the house, Cyril was really struggling with not knowing what to call the man. 

He knew absolutely nothing about him, other than he was clearly hooked on something. Cyril thought about the type of person who would do something like what happened to the man to someone. Maybe the silence was something that was trained into the man? Maybe he was taught not to give any details away?

Cyril had a sneaking suspicion that the medication that the man was withdrawing from was, in reality, an antipsychotic. Probably one of the older ones. Thinking over the behavior of the man from before and the withdrawal with the twitching and dizziness and nausea, he thought that whoever kept him probably used it as a sort of chemical restraint.

He absolutely hated the idea. It made him beyond angry. The shock collar, the chemical restraint, the scars from cuffs and whips, all of it. All of it made Cyril hate people more. It reminded him of why he’d left people behind for good.

Fucking sicko. 

One thing was clear to Cyril, though. He had a duty to protect the man who he’d found dying in the forest. 

If he was going to do that successfully, he needed to figure out a few things. First things first, something to call the name in absence of a name. It felt wrong to not use the man’s name directly, but Cyril had a feeling that he wouldn’t get a name out of the man for a long time. Thus, he wanted to call him something more human than just… “his rescue” or “the man he’d found dying who was now living in his house.”

Then, he needed to figure out whether or not he could talk in a mechanical sense. Cyril had no doubt that mental trauma was playing a role, but he needed to know if it was a brain injury that prevented him from talking - whether from electrocution or blunt force.

Lastly, he wanted to figure out where to return the man to. He didn’t want to just drop him off at any police station he found. They’d surely interrogate him and make him horribly uncomfortable, if not completely retraumatize him.

No, he needed to figure it out on his own. 

As he brought dinner over to the man, Cyril noticed that he’d fallen into a deep sleep. Reluctant to wake him, Cyril sat beside him at the fireplace, eating his fried meat and vegetables.

As he ate, watching the oddly calm visage of the man bathed in the warm light of the flames, he began to wonder if he’d even have a home to go back to. After all, he ended up with his captor somehow. Would it be cruel to try to bring him somewhere he didn’t want to go?

Cyril concluded that he wouldn’t worry about it until the man was talking to him. It would be much easier than speculation.

His dirty black hair flowed around his face, obscuring his eyes a bit. Cyril didn’t even realize when he woke up until he moved ever so slightly. 

“Shadow.”

The man looked at him, confused.

“You’re like a little shadow, here, by the fireplace.”

The man looked terrified at Cyril’s explanation. Probably afraid he did something wrong, poor thing.

“It’s a good thing, I promise.” Not exactly the truth, but not exactly a lie, either. “I’m trying to figure out what to call you.”

The terrified expression didn’t leave. Cyril frowned. Speculation of what had upset the man rushed through his head, all of which he quickly pushed away. Instead, he handed the man his dinner. The portion was a little bigger than the last - a gradual reintroduction to food.

“Here, eat.”

The man took the command well. 

Shadow really does suit him.

He watched Cyril carefully, mimicking his actions and eating how he ate. It made Cyril a little sad, how desperately the man was trying to please him.

“Hey, uh.” He would’ve used a name if that wasn’t what he was trying to figure out. “Can I, uh, call you Shadow? Until I know your name. You’re just, um, very, uh shadow-like. Like I said, not a bad thing. Just something I’ve noticed. I don’t want to call you something you don’t want to be called, though. So, is Shadow, okay?”

After a moment’s consideration, the man nodded a little more strongly than before.

===

Tags (always open!): @whumpsday, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @pigeonwhumps, @darkthingshappen, @pumpkin-spice-whump