#spider god

[son1c]

Idea for Boscage Maze!Eggman's name: Shroom-man (kinda lame, but Eggman got the name from his egg-shaped devices, so naming an Eggman with a mushroom on his head "Shroom-man" makes sense in a way)

can't call him shroom-man because "funguy" is literally right there

[voidpants]

peter benjamin parker with the venom symbiote... 🤔

[orlaite]

ngl if covid was good for anything it was that it allowed me to sit inside and sweatmaxx world of warcraft for like an entire expansion cycle. i keep getting ads and cinematics for the new expansion recommended and like dude its not covid anymore and i'm in grad-school and actually care about uni now😭 i would die to be a neet who who could grind The World Within 24/7 if i'm honest

[death2you]

julie’s so pretty in the comic, i absolutely love her <3

[nothomegal]

HIII I MISS YOU :(( straight to the point, I need a yandere pyramid head fic!!

I´m sorry for the disappearance ;v; Can't post much due my studies.

Anyways, I ADORE your suggestion! And boy if our little (Y/N) is going to have a rough time with a yandere creature like Pyramid Head ._.)

Welp, let's start the story!

"Innocent lamb"

(Yandere!Pyramid Head x GN Reader)

Summary: the entity's realm was hell for some, heaven for others, and an inconvenience for the rest... But when one of the creatures encountered you, he made it everyone's problem, even the entity's that brough him there in the first place. But he meant no harm to you. He likes you. He wants you. He needs you. And he wͦ̀ͯi̸ll̩ͩ have Y̛̗̰͇͚͓͈̣͕̰͓̗͛ͤ̀̇̍ͥ͒̓͝Ơ̵̔_̰̅U̵̷̡̧̡̨͖̟̹͙̙͓̥̗̫̣̙͉͕͉̣̬̇ͭ͗̉͂̅̍͗̇̇́́̈͟͞

Warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, violence and violent acts, quite angst(y) mood in general, (understandably) terrified reader darling :(.

Word count: 4.2k

The moment they entered the trial, all four survivors knew right away who the killer was. Either its the dread they all felt as soon as their feet made contact with the ground that gave it away, or the fact that the entity had placed all of them in the same spot next to two generators just to have any chances to make it out alive.

But they know it's in vain, they know they're doomed for a long long death by bleeding out.

They know it... Because (Y/N) is with them.

Said survivor had to bite their lip to avoid crying, as guilt and terror embraced them. Just because the monster had this unholy obsession with them it didn't mean they were okay with it, if anything it scared them more.

He, Pyramid Head, the Executioner... Or however you want to nickname him, is said to be one of the most powerful creatures the entity had the pleasure to bring, so powerful in fact that the spider-like being had to make a deal to bring him.

So it's not surprising that they are absolutely horrified, but who wouldn't? This monster, an embodiment of pain and punishment, almost a god, has been hunting them relentlessly ever since he laid his gaze or... Helmet? On them.

At first it was all jokes and gags;

'Aww look, (Y/N) has a boyfriend!'

'Watch out, here comes your crush (Y/N)!'

'Uh-oh, the triangle man seems jealous, look how pissed he is at Nea for healing you!'.

But the jokes stopped when it got clear how truly messed up and sinister said 'crush' is.

They still remember it, it was a regular match against that one masked knife wielding guy that runs a lot, he's called 'Legion' they think. The trial was going relatively well, just like many previous ones. Until it suddenly got an 180° turn when one of the walls to the realm was literally destroyed by a hulking mass of muscle and a giant knife. To say both (Y/N) and the killer nearly had a cardiac arrest was an understatement, things got so ugly that the entity had to intervene and cut the trial short.

That incident could be a fuel for a new wave of jokes, could... If it didn't happen again. And that next time was even worse, the beast nearly made his way into the survivor side of the realm, somehow bursting through the barrier the entity had created to keep the survivors separated from the killers to avoid any pity fights after trials.

Ever since that event, Pyramid Head was strictly kept in 'his' realm, aka Midwich Elementary School.

Sometimes, after escaping through the gates and running back into the camp through the fog, (Y/N) could swear they can hear the monster roar in the distance. Loud, distorted and fierce howls resonating somewhere behind the dense fog, as if the creature was desperately trying to yell out their name. Either to let them know how badly he wants them or a promise to break free and get them... Both possibilities giving them chills.

The entity of course wasn't okay with this, it was pissed! But it also could do so little... The great deal now had turned into a major curse. If the deal is broken, the Executioner won't hesitate to damage the realm to get what he wants. But if it remains, the monster will find new ways to bend the rules and make it everyone's problem.

Why the entity doesn't just give (Y/N) to the beast or gets rid of them ones for all? No one really has the answer. Some think it's due the entity's pride, or the possibility of the executioner going ballistic. For now, it's more of a silent (and petty) battle between two stubborn beings, each of them refusing to back away from their goal.

Goal. The entity's goal, though still confusing, is more or less clear; force people and creatures to play these twisted games and feed on those who get sacrificed. But the executioner's goal? It's straight up a mystery. (Y/N) know it has something to do with them, but... Why them exactly? Why not Cheryl? Didn't she come from the same place as that beast? What the monster even wants them for?

What will he do when he finally gets his hands on them? Wh-

A rough shake snapped (Y/N) out of their internal break down.

They blink a couple of times, tears of fear nearly sliding down their cheeks as their body shivers. They were scared, more than the other three survivors combined.

The survivor holding them by their shoulders, David, sighs when he finally notices them react.

—"Look, I know you're scared..."— he starts talking, his voice surprisingly calm.

—"I'm-... I- I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry-..."— you choke out in a weak wobbly voice, guilt eating you from inside.

—"No no. Just listen for a sec. I... Well, we all can tell that you aren't enjoying it neither. So, let's not break down into a soap opera, okay? Don’t think of this as hopeless match, but as another chance to woop that asshole's ass and escape."—

—"And also leave him empty handed!"— Feng announces from her place while already working on a generator.

—"Yeah, screw that triangular piece of shit! Let's try out Dwight's strategy this time. You remember it, do you?"— he asks you, not letting go of your shoulders yet.

The surprisingly positive and reassuring words of their teammates towards them really soothed and even cheered (Y/N) a bit. With a small smile they quickly wipe their eyes before nodding.

—"Good, see? We're already starting on a good note!"— he lets go to then pat your back, basically pushing you forward. —"Now go help with a gen before putting the 'plan' into work."—

Though the push hurt a bit, (Y/N) didn't care at all about the pain, too focused on keepings all the negative and pessimistic thoughts away.

For the first minute and a half everything was going well, (Y/N) and Feng were working on one generator while David and Jonah were working on the other one. The four of them were dead silent, straining their ears for any of the sounds the creature makes, such as heavy footsteps, the scraping of his gigantic knife or their own heartbeat. Weirdly enough, everything was calm... Too calm.

(Y/N) nearly choked with air when a cold chill ran through their spine.

Spine Chill. The beast... Is watching them.

They attempt to subtly alert Feng by carefully tapping her leg, but as soon as their fingertips touched the other girl’s skin, their heartbeat started to get louder and louder, until…

—“WATCH OUT!”—

(Y/N) exclaimed as they pushed Feng, just in time to dodge a bunch of sharp and rusted metal pieces coming out the ground.

—“Holy-...”— she mutters.

Now that the monster is here, the four survivors decided to put in action the mentioned strategy.

They all let go of the generators and run away in different directions, (Y/N) being the most desperate while running since they know exactly who the beast is targeting.

His pattern is always the same; chase after until sending them into a cage to then down all of their teammates and then come straight back to all caged and helpless (Y/N) and then… Stare or touch them until the others bleed out or the entity has enough.

The difference in the current case, is that (Y/N) is not playing just cat and mouse. In fact, chasing them is the worst the killer can do. All of their abilities are chase oriented, another teammate lurking around has all the boon ones, while the last two have all is needed to rush through the generators. If everything works out, the monster will get himself in a situation where he's be forced to leave (Y/N) alone.

The chase was intense, at least for (Y/N). Despite never catching a clear view of the Executioner, they could feel him close behind, following them methodically like a wild animal on a hunt, waiting for the right moment to strike while keeping up the tension.

It was hard to maintain the focus, every single hallways in The Game looked the exact same. Did they vaulted that window already? Didn't they pre-dropped that palled over there? Did Feng placed it up again? Are the other two working on the generators? Have they taken this left path before?

So many questions where swarming their mind as their legs kept carrying them on, only momentarily relaxing when two generators finally made that distinguish noise.

Two done! Tree left.

A breathless laugh escaped from them. Great! This is already going better than all of their previous encounters with the Executioner, which would always end with the first generator barely reaching 30%.

However, their smile was quickly swept when they realized they no longer hear their heartbeat or thundering footsteps tailing behind. It was silent, dead silent, with no other sounds that their own breathing.

A wave of anxiety flushed through (Y/N) like a tsunami wave and started to drag and drown them deeper into their own worries.

What the?... Okay, this was not part of the plan. The Executioner had never left the chase with them, never. So the fact that he finally did, and apparently a while ago, made them shake.

With nothing else to do, they gather the courage to start moving again. Where? Somewhere! Anywhere but to stay in place and be an easy target to the beast that so desperately wants them.

They keep running, stopping only for a brief moment before turning a corner, making sure they don't hear any muffled breathing that at times resembled growls. They learned the hard way with the Shape that some killers like to wait around corners, and they don't want to commit the same mistake right now.

Their heart jerked when they heard a scream resonate from their left, and a faint reddish aura in the shape of a human gleamed for a second before disappearing.

David is down.

And it seems like he's not getting picked up, which could either mean that the monster is setting up a trap or chasing someone else. Whichever the case is, they shouldn't go-

They hear a bunch of footsteps come their way, and in a set of panic they crouch behind a bunch of boxes, silently praying that their disguise is mildly good.

They can't see much from their spot, but they can clearly recognize the shape of Jonah running away from something massive.

As soon as the two figures passed by, (Y/N) gets up and takes off running towards David to check on him.

After some wondering around the labyrinth-like place, they finally reach their injured teammate, who was still on the ground and groaning from pain.

—"{David!}"— you whisper-yell as you start running towards him.

He weakly lifts his head just enough to see them. When he recognized who it is, he starts to frantically shake his head.

—"NO! GET THE FUCK OUT!"—

Huh? What-

As (Y/N) is about to reach David, a path of sharp metal pieces and razor wires had emerged right in front of them, just when they're about to make contact with the floor again, making in impossible to dodge.

The second their leg got tangled into the sharp metallic mess, everything went too fast. They don't even have time to pull away as something sliced them on their side, sending them directly on the ground.

They send a guilty and ashamed glance to David, who had an frustrated expression.

—"{Sorry...}"— you mouth.

(Y/N) has no chance to see David's answer as a massive hand suddenly curled around their throat and forced them to look away from the other man.

Their eyes wide at the sight of the beast menacingly hovering over their helpless form, holding their body in place between him and the ground. The muscles of his extended arm were tense, his breathing heavy, almost like he's holding back the anger and displeasure caused by them giving attention to someone else.

Their heart skipped beats, their breath uneven, their eyes watered as they tightly closed them, not wanting to witness whatever this thing was about to do. They can feel the warmth coming from his body, his breathing slowly stabilizing, as if staring at them and watching them slowly submit was enough to calm the monster. Ironically, it did the complete opposite to (Y/N), as their own heartbeat raised from the anxiety of having to face the unknown, attempt to predict the unpredictable and prepare to witness another massacre unfold around them at any second... Just to then end up caged and at the mercy of this-

—"LEAVE THEM ALONE ASSHOLE!"— David angrily yells from his place, struggling and trying to stand up. —"You're fucking terrifying, of course they don't want to look at you!"—

They can feel Pyramid Head's hand tense and start shaking, his fingers twitching and pressing further into their skin. (Y/N) was beyond terrified now, just a little bit of pressure and the creature could crush their throat like a cardboard tube.

David, though clearly using all of his strength, ended up falling back on the ground, as if some invisible weigh is actively pushing him down.

—“You freak! Absolute sick fuck! Let them go already!”—

As the waterfall of profanities continues, (Y/N) slowly places their hands around the monster’s wrist to attempt to push his hand away, unfortunately he didn’t budge at all.

Suddenly, David’s stops screaming and the very next second (Y/N) feels something warm and slippery press against their cheek.

They jerk in place at the uncanny sensation and shoot open their eyes, a breathless gasp escaping them at the sight of a… Wh-What even is that? A freaking tentacle? A tongue?…

The dark pink muscle wiggles in front of their face for a moment before licking another stride, wiping some of their tears and blood in the process, making (Y/N) shiver in discomfort.

They shoot a confused glance to David, desperately wanting to know if he’s witnessing this too. The man had an expression of pure ‘what the fuck’; eyes narrowed, brows furrowed and mouth slightly gaping.

This eye contact was brief though. (Y/N) got startled for a loud growl that reverbed from the beast's chest and helmet. The hand finally leaves their throat as the beast stands up to his full height and starts making his way to David, leaving them alone, as well as his knife?

(Y/N) throws their teammate a scared look, but David responds with a forced smirk.

—"Ah, now you decide to drag your big ass towards me."— he mutters through gritted teeth.

The monster seem to not react to his taunts. With each step that he takes towards David, his mask of confidence seems to crack.

Nevertheless, the man didn’t back out from his insults, he never does.

—“What’s wrong? Why so pissy, huh?! Jealous that (Y/N) prefers us?!”—

Saying their name was a sore spot to hit, and the way Pyramid Head reacted confirmed that.

The monster roughly grabs David by the neck, completely ignoring the fact that he’s not even holding his weapon. Instead he uses his bare hands to silence him.

Nasty, wet and crunchy sounds resonated through the room and hallways as the creature began to tear the man’s body limb by limb, piece by peace, unbothered by the pained screams of his victim or the low groan of displeasure that resonated from above for again not playing by the rules.

(Y/N) froze in horror at the sight in front of them. Blood, chunks of flesh and bone pieces where flying everywhere, never before they’ve witnessed this type of gore, not even during the ‘mori’.

Though it felt like the massacre lasted hours, it was actually second. The monster threw the whatever remaining he had in his hands and slowly turned back to (Y/N), who was still frozen and unable to look away from what was left from David. They know they will meet again in the fire camp, in one piece and alive, but god they felt sick...

Their shock breaks only when the thundering footsteps began to resonate again, shaking the ground underneath them with each the creature took. He grew closer, and closer, with them being able to do absolutely nothing aside from attempting to crawl away.

But that pity attempt was stopped when the same sharp wires and rusty metal pieces emerged from the ground and wrapped around their body, pulling them slowly underneath and sinking them further into the ground. And before they realize it, their body is already trapped in that rotten metallic cage.

Cold metal spikes just inches away from their flesh, so close to penetrate their skin, a wrong move and they would undoubtedly get hurt. But even if they wanted to move, they couldn't really. The space in the structure was small, claustrophobic even, each spike perfectly adjusted to keep their form in place. In some twisted way, it felt like a hug, a very cold, unwelcoming and unnerving hug.

They flinch when they hear a scream resonate from somewhere, which was cut by a loud slam.

Feng was caught.

It seems like the Executioner didn't bother to down her, rather getting rid of her directly, most likely because he's aware that Jonah is not keen of going for rescues...

And speaking of the man, there is his aura flashing before (Y/N)'s eyes as his body fell on the floor.

He's down... Which means that-

Before they even finish their conclusion, the tall figure of the monster appeared. Just by looking at them his behavior seemed to change; movements more erratic and pace uneven, almost like he's hypnotized.

He makes his way to them, slowly, as if purposely building up the tension.

(Y/N) wanted to look away or close their eyes, but whenever they did so the cage felt painfully small. It hurt, literally, so they stare at that beast grow closer with wide shaky eyes that struggled to keep their focus on him. This is something Pyramid Head was always good at, he could always make you fear, even the toughest bravest ones would inevitably succumb to the terror his presence brings.

Ones in front of them, the creature stops in place and simply stares, like he always did.

(Y/N), though still scared, was a tiny bit relieved that this is what the rest of the trial would be; them being pinned like a butterfly with the monster observing.

It would be just that.

Just this bizarre staring contest.

...Right?

WRONG.

The creature suddenly let go of his weapon and grabs the edges of the cage with both hands quite violently.

Now the little hope and comfort (Y/N) had was thrown out the window, as now they realize they no longer have any idea of what will happen next.

And by what it looks like, the entity is not planning to intervene, as if curious itself to see what will happen next.

Pyramid Head remains like this, his big hands tightly squeezing the imperfect metal bars, bending them slightly and making the already miserable looking material groan from the pressure he was applying.

It looked like he wanted to destroy that cage, rip it apart and get to them, but didn't do it by holding himself back... Why? What's even the point of this build up? What's even the point in wanting them?!

—"{Wh-...Why?...}"— you choke out in a very quiet voice. —"{Why a-are you d-... doing this?...}"—

(Y/N) knows is stupid to ask, Pyramid Head can't even speak! But they can't help themselves, they're too scared, their anxiety is unbearable and their thoughts are too out of control. They need answers, anything that could even hint for a possible explanation of the killer's intentions.

They began to second guess their decision to speak when the creature froze in place, even his breath was now inaudible. This was the first time (Y/N) spoke directly to the monster, but they didn't expect him to react at this fact, not like this, or at all.

But he did, he did acknowledged that little detail, and he will make sure they acknowledge it too.

The creature soon moves again, by slowly leaning closer and slightly tilting his head to the side, almost like trying to get a better look at them.

His breathing got heavier, low huffs and growls resonating from that metallic helmet of his. It really looked like he was actively holding back some major urge or desire, but what it is?

(Y/N) wanted to ask again, but decided against it as there is little Pyramid Head could do to answer, and even if he could, why should he? Maybe it's more amusing to him to see them helplessly wondering in the dark and unable to comprehend what's going on.

Or maybe, there is simply nothing to explain?... Maybe he does what he does just because? Human mind is way too used to seek for reasons and explanations for anything and everything, often forgetting that sometimes the answer is way too simple or straight up null, could that be the case?

The same groan coming from the cage bars pulled (Y/N) out of their thoughts. They forget how to breathe at the sight of the structure slowly collapsing as the monster starts to rip the bars with his raw strength.

A scared yelp escaped them as they try to back further into the cage as much as they can, ignoring the sharp edges that scratched or pierced their body. They barely felt pain, none at all actually, the adrenaline and basic survival instincts keeping their body resilient and ready to run. The sad part is, is that there is nowhere to run, nothing to do. It's sweet that their body tries so desperately to keep their hopes up and reassure their survival, but their mind is more than aware of the cold desolated reality...

The front part of the cage was eventually ripped off and thrown against the floor violently. (Y/N) can only cover their eyes with their hands and quietly sob as they wait for whatever the monster had planned to do next.

Even when no further actions are made, they refuse to look. They no longer want to face this thing, they no longer want to suffer this torment. Regardless if they believed in any religion or no, they mutter silent prayers under their breath, but not no save them, but to make it end and to know how sorry they are for any evil or harm they've did in their life that leaded to such tragic conclusion.

But this is where the catch is... They've committed none. At least from the Executioner's perspective.

Despite their whispers being so silent to a non-existent point, Pyramid Head heard them loud and clear. And the more he heard their voice, the more he felt the inside of his chest burn and the desire for them grow even more. (Y/N) is not perfect, they're human after all, and all humans have their fair share of flaws and defects... But unlike the rest, (Y/N) has the ability to acknowledge said imperfections and genuinely try to make up for them, to fix them... Regardless if they get something in return or not.

This, this is the true purity in a human being. An innocence and kindness so genuine that it would be a sin not to worship and protect... And who is a best fit to take care of it other than the fearsome Pyramid Head?

(Y/N)... So pure... So innocent... So kind... He must keep them save.

He must keep them...

He wants them...

W̴͕̳͈͔̭̝͠ͅ a̶̩̰̲̎̓͊̈̓̕ ǹ̴̢͇̬̘̗̯̜̍̋͊͠͝͠ ṭ̶͇̃̔͝ s̶̭̩͔̹̝̼̅̍̆̉͌͝

As the monster is about to reach them, a spider like legs burst out through the floor and wrap themselves around (Y/N).

The trial... Is over.

And while the absolutely livid roar gets overshadowed by the groans of the entity as the black fog surrounds the whole place. (Y/N) only keeps quietly sobbing as they cling to the spider leg sticking out of their chest. And though they knew the entity is the main responsible of their current torment, they were too overwhelmed with emotions to properly process their actions.

Surprisingly, the spider-like being didn't disappear right away, probably feeling pity for their situation and allowing them to cry for a brief moment, most likely to compensate this unplanned mess they have to deal with.

To everyone's surprise in the camp, when (Y/N) finally arrived they where unconscious, either passed out after such emotional roller coaster or the entity wants them take some genuine rest. Whatever the case it, it didn't matter, what matters is that their fellow friend is back save and sound, right?

As one of the survivors decided to take them closer to the bonfire for warmth and comfort, they could swear they heard some weird noises from afar.

It resembled a demonic cry filler with rage, so distant yet menacing. Everyone instinctively shivered.

And though (Y/N) successfully 'survived' yet another trial with the executioner, almost everyone had the gut feeling that the next encounter they have with the beast, it will not end good...

They all take a glance at their still unconscious form.

Poor (Y/N)...

[serialreporter-a]

thinking about how hype danny must have been when he entered the fog for the first time and noticed the strips of fabric on his cloak were floating in the air all dramatic like

[thenightling]

For those keeping score here are all the TV shows based on the work of Neil Gaiman from the last ten years. Lucifer - Loosely based on the version of Lucifer who quits ruling Hell and opens a piano bar, from The Sandman comics by Neil Gaiman. Originally aired on Fox and then moved to Netflix for seasons 4 through 6. Neil Gaiman also got to play God in a bonus episode for season 3. The full series can be watched on Netflix. And is available on DVD. The plot deals with Lucifer, the ruler of Hell, up and quitting and moving to Earth where he opens a night club called Lux and takes up playing piano. In the TV series he befriends (and eventually falls in love with) a woman homicide detective named Chloe Decker.

_______________________ American Gods - Based on the novel by Neil Gaiman. Aired on Starz. The plot deals with a man called Shadow Moon who gets dragged into the strange world of Old and New Gods vying for power.

________________ Anansi Boys - Originally written by Neil Gaiman as a spin-off of American Gods, the TV series version was filmed for Amazon Prime and is currently in post-production (Not yet released.) The plot deals with the sons of Anansi, the African trickster Spider-God.

__________________ Good Omens - Showrun by Neil Gaiman and based on the novel by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. Also Neil Gaiman has a small cameo in the first season. Available now on Amazon Prime. Seasons 1 and 2 are complete. Season 3 has not yet started filming and will very likely be the final season. Season 1 is currently available on DVD. The plot deals with two "differently competent" entities, an Angel and a Demon, who have come to love life on Earth and each other. And now must work together to prevent the apocalypse.

______________________________ The Sandman - First episode was co-written by Neil Gaiman, based on the stories and original characters created by Neil Gaiman with a few borrowed DC comics characters. Currently on Netflix. Season 2 is in production now. Neil Gaiman also voiced a ghostly bird in the bonus episode segment Dream of a Thousand Cats. Season 1 will be available on DVD and Blu Ray at the end of this month. The plot deals with Morpheus, the King of Dreams, who accidentally gets summoned and captured by occultists who had been trying to capture The Grim Reaper. After over a hundred and six years in captivity Morpheus finally escapes and has to track down his tools which had been taken from him when he was captured. He also comes to realize he had made many terrible mistakes in the past and struggles to set those wrongs right.

_________________________________________ The Dead Boy Detectives - First official spin-off of The Sandman. The Dead Boy Detectives were originally planned as an HBO Max series (now just Max) but moved to Netflix after the success of the first season of The Sandman. Based on characters who first appeared in Neil Gaiman's The Sandman: Season of Mists, Neil Gaiman is involved in the production. The plot is a pair of ghost teenagers decide to become detectives and are really bad at it. These two characters made a previous appearance in Doom Patrol on Max (Formerly HBO Max) but had been played by different actors.

[redjademilktea]

Last night's episode of 4 Sided Dive was absolutely wonderful in terms of the amount of insight and perspective we got. Not only the Crown Keepers interlude, but also for campaign 3's themes as a whole.

Specifically what fascinated me though, was the incredible analogy Aimee drew between the Ruidian culture and colonial influence on indigenous/colonized spaces in real life (around the 1h32m mark for reference). It was amazing question to ask and I'll love Aimee endlessly for it because it touches on am interesting parallel between the discourse surrounding the Exandiran gods and what they thematically can represent to us as an audience.

Before I dive into my thoughts, I want to preface this by saying this is my specific perspective as a queer woman of color and daughter of a refugee. While my year-5-in-a-PhD-program brain may just be over analyzing this too much, what Aimee brought up just deeply resonated with me in a way that I don't really see talked about in discussions around the themes of campaign 3. Additionally, the ideas I'll be talking about borrow heavily from Christine Taitano DeLisle's Placental Politics: CHamoru Women, White Womanhood, and Indigeneity under U.S. Colonialism in Guam (2023). Its an incredible piece on indigenous knowledge production and political action that importantly looks to decenter colonial perspectives and history (and more importantly recenter indigenous histories, knowledge, and perspectives in a way that allows us to dislodge the idea that colonialism is something that is immutable and inevitable.)

To quickly summarize Aimee's point/follow up question, she pointed out that the way Ruidians have engaged with, repurposed, and were resentful towards Exandrian cultures mirrors some of the real life experiences of colonized/marginalized communities in relation to colonialism. It was such a powerful comparison to make because in a lot of ways, the struggle of the Ruidian people over the course of the campaign along with the looming question about the gods and whether or not to save them is (intentional or not) deeply resonant with the idea of colonialism and the ways it is deeply ingrained in the even mundane aspects of our life.

In a lot of ways, the Exandrian pantheon can be seen as a colonial force. One that came in and displaced a preexisting order of things and entrenched itself in the new way of being it established. Ashton and Laudna have repeatedly pointed this out throughout the campaign. There was life and existence before the gods. The gods are merely a different mode of being, not the only and inevitable mode of being. Life, society, and being can and did exist without them.

And its important to recognize that aspect of the gods, because it helps us understand their motivations that much better. Aabria in her description of what Opal saw in the Spider Queen as she tried to take Opal as her champion was poignant. Opal did not see an omniscient, unknowable entity. She saw a woman. A woman who was frustrated, angry, and most importantly frightened. They keep Predathos chained away not to protect life on Exandria nor because they feel a moral obligation to do so. They are doing so because they are afraid. Their mortality is at stake. And, as Aabria keenly pointed out, their pride is as well. Every action, every move is out of self preservation. An attempt to save themselves because Predathos demonstrate that not even the gods are a permanent thing.

You'll find (as Anne Stoler writes about frequently) that colonial systems are much the same. They are vehemently intent on self preservation. Any action they undertake and any narrative they create about themselves is solely done to preserve the way things are currently. And that includes narratives that the way things are currently is somehow inevitable. That things were always coming to this moment. Often, this is done at the expense of framing other modes of being as somehow antithetical to the way things are now. That it needs to be this way. And that this way is right and forever.

To me, its important to recognize these parallels. While Ruidians may engage with, adapt, and innovate off of Exandrian ideas, culture, and art, it is only because - as Aimee aptly phrased it - Exandrian culture as a direct result of the gods actions has "sucked all the air out" everything. What is there to engage with, if not the looming orb in the sky that has shaped every aspect of their existence?

It really brings the campaign-wide question of "should we save the gods?" into new light, at least in my opinion. Because its suddenly not about "saving the gods in a morally righteous act to preserve all life." It becomes a layered and complicated network of issues that makes the answer to that question incredibly difficult to answer. Is preserving the status quo because its how things operate now worth it at the expense of the suffering of others? What would saving the gods and the Ruidians look like? Is it even possible to save both? What changes to how things operate would be a result of that? How would those changes be handled?

I bring this up because there is a tendency in some discourse that I've seen to frame questioning the validity of saving the gods as inherently the "wrong" choice to make. When instead, when you see the cast struggling over the question, its because the answer is not straight forward. The gods are not necessary for life. They never were. They just are necessary for life the way things are now. And the question of what disrupting that means is such a fascinating one to engage with.

[cherubfae]

better keep quiet || {l. kennedy x reader ft. ghostface}

what better way to test if your boyfriend can stay silent by sucking him off in the middle of a trial with a killer on the prowl? things do not go as planned.

tags: nsfw, smut, gn!afab! Resident Evil verse!reader, dubcon (just in case!!), descriptions of afab anatomy, degradation/namecalling (ghostie), forced blowjobs (ghostie), public acts of indecency, voyeurism (ghostie likes to watch), dry humping (Ghostie x reader), established relationship, slight ghostface x reader x leon, brief mentions of anal play, allusions to puppyboy!Leon, leon is a bit of a freak lmao he's def a closet perv, breeding kink (previous mentions about potentially having kids), Leon and reader are not good teammates x3, this got vulgar aaaaa

The Macmillan estate was vast, cluttered in useless machinery, old rusted tools, and many nooks and crannies for you and Leon to find a temporary safe haven in. The Ghostface had already successfully hooked an injured Meg, who had struggled enough to summon the Entity early, unfortunately, everyone knew they wouldn't make it in time to unhook her. Her sacrifice would soon be claimed by spindly inky spider-like legs. With one practically in the bag, the killer continued on his vicious pursuit of both Vittorio and Sable.

Crouched down into a squat with his back to the silent generator, Leon winces at the jingle of his belt, quickly unfastening the buckle and tugging down the zip. "Are you sure you can keep quiet?" The rookie teased. He looked smug, one dark brow raised, and his thumbs hooked into the loops of his uniform pants. The waistband of said pants sag around his hips, a sliver of skin revealed above his blue plaid boxers, looking oh so tantalizing.

Scoffing, you shoot him an incredulous look, unimpressed. "Leon, baby, every time one of the killers strikes you it sounds like you're practicing for a porno, you little masochist. This was your idea. Don't make me gag you." He knew full well you'd find whatever you could to shove in his mouth-- and he secretly hoped it would be the underwear you're currently wearing.

Whining, Leon's head dully thuds back against the generator. "Fuck, that doesn't sound half bad. Wanna try without first, baby, please. Promise I'll be your good boy." Giving you that signature grin you love so much, Leon easily swayed your opinion. He really was just like a puppy, always begging to be praised, and you were more than happy to oblige your boyfriend.

You missed all the toys you liked to use on him back home in Raccoon City. The way his ass stretched around the silver plug you oh so kindly fucked into him. Leon would just about die if any of his comrades ever found out that almost every night after his shift his partner was fucking his ass with a wolf-like tail butt plug or a pretty, glittery blue strap-on. He would never mention he had the ears, the studded collar, and the paw print gloves to match. All in an adoringly cute silvery-grey.

And when you weren't pounding into him? He had you folded in half beneath his strong body, ever so eager to prove just how much he's physically improved, humping into you in the deepest mating press possible. Never fully satisfied, much less satiated, unless you were dripping in his seed. He loveeeeed watching your hole clench with the absence of his dick, cum staining the sheets below. Like a doting, caring boyfriend, he'd push back all of his cum inside. You'd talked about it before. Maybe he wanted it to take this time.

You two were insatiable, like rabbits.

Now, trapped in this eternal purgatory, things were certainly no different. You two continued on as normal as you could in this hellscape. You thanked whatever god, probably the Entity, thank you were sent here with your boyfriend. True hell would be to never get to see one another again.

Deciding he is taking too long; you yank them down yourself. A gust of wind ripples across the ground, making the two of you shudder and huddle in even closer.

His erection is hard and hot, flushed red and thicker than your wrist, and visibly twitching in your grasp. You've barely touched him yet and already Leon gasps like he's close to cumming.

"Fuck, baby, need you. I need you, please." Leon begs, shuffling closer. He claims your mouth in a passionate kiss, parting with a heavy whine. Gently lowering you to rest between his legs, he parts your lips gently; always so sweet and kind to you. Tapping his cock against your lips, you open wide, tongue lolling out to lap at his tip. His moans are delicious and it's clear there was never any intention of him staying quiet. He'd already failed.

You take him in as far as you can go, swallowing around his head once he hits the back of your throat. His fingers curl around the back of your neck to keep you in place, idly toying with the ends of your hair. Too deep in your element, you fail to hear a rustling noise several feet away from you.

Leon, drunk on pleasure, snapped his head up. Through ashen blonde bangs he makes out the unmistakable shadowy outline of the Ghostface's shroud billowing in the wind. Although straining, he can hear the muffled, heavy breathing rasp from behind the killer's mask. Yet, the cloaked murderer makes no move to stop for the couple.

Narrowing his eyes, he watches Ghostface with confusion. Watches as the killer sheaths his knife into the ground with a dull thud. Despite the distance, Leon doesn't miss the jerking motion Ghostface does with his hand now between his crouched legs.

Leon's hand cards through your hair, stroking the silken strands lovingly. A gasp catches in his throat when your eyes tilt up, peering at him through your lashes, with your mouth full of his thick cock.

Smirking, he caressed your cheek. "We've got an audience, love. The Ghostface," he hummed. "But he's not trying to attack us. Guess he likes watching my pretty baby suck their boyfriend's dick." He gently taps your cheek, a signal to continue. "Whaddya say, wanna give him a better look? Want him to touch you? Yeah? Atta baby." Leon waves his hand. "Go ahead then, Mr. Ghostface. Do what you will."

Now you hear it. The uneven, raspy breathing. The crunching of heavy boots on dead grass, the cracking of twigs as the predator creeped ever closer. There was the undeniable scent of steel, of faint cologne, and the tang of copper. Blood.

Heat pools in your abdomen at the lewdness of this whole scenario. There was something undeniably sexy that both your boyfriend and some masked stranger, a serial killer, were getting off to such a display of indecency.

A gloved hand, sleek against your soft hair, roughly pushes your head down forcing you to take Leon to the back of your throat; Leon crying out in ecstasy. You gasp and gag, sputtering and coughing around the length, your nose buried in Leon's pubic hair. Unable to look to see what's happening, you do what you can to focus on pleasing your boyfriend. The strong hand on your hand is a heavy reminder that the roles have now been switched.

Something warm and hard pressed at your ass. It didn't take you too long to guess as to what it may be. A second later, you're being pushed tightly into Leon's chest, your hips harshly gripped between gloved hands as Ghostface drags his bare, flushed cock along the seam of your jean shorts. He's long and thick, that much is evident, with every drag of his cock along your clothed cunt. Precum clings to the light blue fabric, staining it.

Ghostface humps his cock at your backside like a mutt breeding a bitch. His larger frame has you caged between the two males, thighs pinning yours in place and gloved hands groping any skin he can touch. You yelp as Leon's cock falls out of your mouth with a wet pop. Spit and saliva connect the two. You wrap your hand around him, sticking out your tongue to lap at his head moaning low.

Slipping his hand beneath your waistband he alternates from grinding his gloved fingers along your slit and grabbing a handful of your tits. The texture was rough. It rubbed your skin raw, massaging your velvet walls in such a way that you saw stars. You didn't care how fucked out you looked anymore, you rode Danny's fingers eagerly.

"Suck his dick like a good little whore," came the raw, deep voice of the Ghostface. "You like your mouth being used as his little fuck hole, don't you, sweetheart?" Feigning sweetness, the killer cards his fingers through your hair. Tears prick your eyes, but fuck, it was so hot. It felt so fucking sexy to be used like this.

Gripping you at the scalp, Ghostface roughly forces you to bob your head up and down on Leon's cock. Your boyfriend frantically tries to give you some semblance of peace and security by gripping and massaging your shoulders with his warm hands. His eyes squeeze tight, rapidly inhaling and exhaling.

"F-fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Leon yelps, hips gyrating. Borderline fucking your throat with every hump of his hips to your face. He hoped you would forgive him. It felt too damn good to stop now.

Ghostface cackled, forcing you back down. His large hand greatly obscures the back of your neck. He holds you in place, all the while laughing at your tear-stained face desperately trying to swallow down all of the rookie's cum; white essence spilling out of your mouth as you're overfilled.

"Such a slutty, slutty little mess, hmm?" Ghostface grumbled. He yanks you off Leon's dick, forcing you to face him. Leon instinctively wraps his strong arms around your tummy. Ghostface kicks your legs apart to crouch between them. His leaking, bare cock now visible with his shroud hiked up to his waist. Long, hard and visibly throbbing for attention. He cups at your sex, mocking your pathetic whine. "Think you can fit two dicks in there, sweetheart? Whaddya say, rookie cop? Feel like sharing?" As if Leon had any choice.

Collecting the cum trickling down your chin, Ghostface pushes two leather-clad fingers into your mouth. The digits press down on your tongue, noisily slurping on them. Red eyes, as red as blood, stare down at your wanton expression with faux kindness. There is only sadistic mockery in his tone. "Show us your hole, then, sweets. I think it's time I deserved a treat. I'll go easy on ya. I'd hate to make Kennedy pissy." He hissed, his hand going to his cock, jerking himself directly over you. "Unless you'd rather be hooked?"

|| please don't repost, reuse, or edit my works in any way! I do not give permission. Tumblr is the only site where I post. All characters belong to their rightful owner and the story belongs to me © CHERUBFAE 2024 ||

[utilitycaster]

An ongoing theme, with regards to the gods (as opposed to Predathos and the Imperium) is that of free will. The gods are stringent in collecting on promises made, and the Betrayers will use initial consent as license to act freely, but it’s notable, in a campaign where nearly all the main player characters are shaped by entities that never once gave them a choice, the gods require an invitation. Except, worryingly, Predathos, a being of nigh-divine powers who does not seem bound by this limitation. And, of course, mortals can do as they will.

When Lolth overtakes Opal, the fact that Opal assumed both the crown, and the title of champion, willingly, is repeatedly mentioned, in DM narration and by Lolth herself. Lolth also mentions to Dorian, (perhaps untruthfully, though the events of EXU indicate this might be genuine), that she wished for him to become her champion instead - but he did not put on the crown, so she can’t have him. Obviously, Lolth takes many liberties with Opal once given entry, but she can only speak to people or act through someone who has permitted her. We see this too with Asmodeus: it is ultimately Zerxus’s choice not to walk away and face his death, but make good on his pact; some degree of initial consent is needed. K’nauth and Judicators are also both explicitly described as voluntary: once permission is given, they are bound, but this is no different than the contracts of warlocks and notably, with the gods, while we’ve seen them make deals under dire straits, we’ve never seen such unwitting participants in their pacts as Fjord with Uk’otoa or Laudna with Delilah among the gods. All entered in control of their faculties, to our knowledge, though not necessarily with the full knowledge of what it entailed.

The Prime Deities are differentiated from the Betrayers in that they continue to provide free will to their champions and their faithful. The Raven Queen accepts Vax’s trade of his life for Vex’s, given without any direct communication from her, but she quickly does begin to communicate clearly; when Vax communes with her in Duskmeadow, she tells him what she wishes, putting him much more at ease. Later, after his death, she gives him an option to either remain dead, or to have a little more time left with Keyleth, Vex, and the others of Vox Machina before he completes his task and returns to her, and he makes a choice. When Morrighan asks for guidance, the Raven Queen’s response is to ask “why are you fighting, and what are you fighting for?” and stresses that she wishes to lay out the exact terms before Morrighan agrees to anything. When Percy asks her what to do she, ironically enough for a goddess of fate, tells him he possesses the capacity to do great things of his own accord. All of Vox Machina’s divine favors come willingly, only after a conversation; the Wildmother first reaches out to Fjord before he decides to accept. And mortals have the capacity to resist even these promises; Opal is only partially successful but she does not give the Spider Queen two deaths and she does not leave alone. Fy’ra Rai finds herself able to go against Lolth’s wishes even when the Wildmother does not wish to intervene; it is her choice not to kill Opal but to go with her.

When mortals express doubt in the gods, it’s typically not their actions. It’s because they don’t think they meddle in the matters of mortals enough. As mentioned, Percy struggles with the open-ended nature of the Raven Queen’s advice. Essek, frequently considered an “anti-god” character is actually quite mild in his doubt and ultimately more frustrated at the clerics of the Kryn Dynasty than the Luxon itself (put a pin in that). Ludinus Da’leth states the gods should have prevented the Calamity, despite us knowing that the Prime Deities avoided intervention and that ultimately, while the Calamity had a number of causes, mortals (Vespin, Laerryn, much of the city of Avalir) were at the root. Ashton and Imogen’s frustrations with the gods have both ultimately been that they asked for assistance and did not receive it.

The extension of the Prime Deities’ belief in the free will of mortals is sufficiently strong that even during the Age of Arcanum, when many mortals rejected them, and when they did not require mortal intermediaries, they still chose to preserve it until the Calamity began. Each major action by the gods as a group is ultimately one to preserve themselves (the sealing of Predathos; the destruction of Aeor; the current campaign’s truce) or to preserve mortals (the Primes during the Schism and in creating the Divine Gate).

Contrast this with Delilah, who seizes control of Laudna and who is never stated to have asked permission for any of her actions. Compare to FCG, designed by Aeorians to lose control and kill. Compare to Chetney, bitten by a werewolf in the wilderness (and the others of the Gorgynei as well) - indeed, what control he has is the legacy of magic granted by the Raven Queen and by a nature spirit tied to the Wildmother. Contrast this now with Predathos, whose Ruidusborn had no say in this connection and indeed, many are motivated in service to Predathos with the goal of freeing themselves. Enforcers within the Kreveris Imperium refer to themselves as The Will, and Elder Barthie refers to those who oppose them as being made “pliable”. Chetney’s loss of control under Ruidus is deliberately triggered by the Weave Mind, with whom he made no deal.

If we (in my opinion, rightfully) reject any argument that denies the right of sentient entities to self-preservation, we are left with the following accusations of the gods: failing to stop wrongdoing by mortals (both in their name and unrelated); and acting in accordance with pre-existing agreements. The latter we can also reject; it is not perhaps kind of the gods to hold people to their contracts, but this is not unique to them and as discussed extensively above, they do require that, at least initially, the promise be made willingly.

The former, unfortunately, will not be stopped by destroying the gods. Ultimately, such people as Tuldus, Bor’Dor, and the people of Hearthdell were oppressed by their fellow mortals. In-world, we have seen zealotry in the name not just of the Prime Deities but that of countless lesser ones, notably Uk’otoa; if only the Prime and Betrayer gods are at stake, this simply creates a power vacuum to be filled by other entities vastly more powerful than mortals. On the other hand, should all power-granting entities be devoured, setting aside the upheaval this will cause in society, this leaves no shortage of room for oppression on the basis of race or political affiliation, both of which we’ve seen. The Tal’Dorei Campaign Setting’s original incarnation, prior to the further development of Wildemount for Campaign 2, even stated the Dwendalian Empire forbade all religion and was still an authoritarian one. Colonization is the end goal of the Weave Mind and indeed the motivation for killing the gods per Edmuda. It also is not unheard of on Exandria for reasons not attributed to religion, notably the settling of the Menagerie Coast by Marquesians, and Tal’Dorei (formerly Gwessar) by human settlers from Issylra. And, of course, as we know in our real world, you do not need provable deities for religion to develop nor for colonization and oppression. Mortals do these things in reality and Exandria, whether or not the gods exist, and destroying the gods in Exandria achieves no prevention, only carnage.

Returning, finally, to Essek: when we look at the major characters who are PCs or are aligned with them who have expressed frustration with the gods, the only one who has much of a case for being influenced by the actions of a deity is Percy, who is staunchly on the side against Predathos. One could split hairs and note that Vecna was not a deity at the time of the murder of Percy’s family, his own torture, and the destruction and occupation of Whitestone, but rather merely a power-hungry wizard extending his lifespan via unscrupulous means, but Percy’s own choices render this moot. Meanwhile, the gods simply did not alleviate Imogen and Ashton’s experiences, both of which were in part due to powers caused by entities the gods, in fact, failed to sufficiently destroy (Predathos and Ka’Mort specifically) and mostly perpetuated by mortals reacting to Imogen’s abilities or Ashton finding themself orphaned on the outskirts of a notoriously rough city and later, caught as the fall guy in a failed heist by a morally questionable wealthy collector.

It is my belief that Keyleth’s anger is, on some level, extended towards someone who can’t respond nor change and who she feels she cannot be angry at, and that is Vax. Vax made the deal and the Raven Queen collected; Vax decided to take the Raven Queen’s second offer. He was forced into neither, and as discussed later, he likely would have responded poorly to a True Resurrection attempt given his faith. Vax is dead because of Vecna, but neutralizing Vecna didn’t fix it. I think Dorian’s anger at Lolth meanwhile is valid, but it’s also something I’d imagine he feels he cannot direct towards Opal, even though her actions are a part of it. And I’m sure both Keyleth and Dorian blame themselves, to an extent, whether or not that is rightful. The gods make just as convenient a scapegoat for those hurt by mortals as they do an excuse for cruelty.  But I don’t think killing them will bring back Vax, and certainly not Cyrus. Much as Derrig and Will and four other Ashari lie permanently dead at the hands of Otohan Thull despite her demise, and Orym’s trauma remains, killing the gods will not undo what happened to Imogen or Ashton. And since their main crime is considered to be inaction, killing them does not end suffering (and, indeed, should we dig into the infrastructures of Exandrian society and cosmology, may very well drastically increase it). It merely confirms that no one will receive their favor rather than only some; a bringing everyone down to your misery rather than striving to elevate all. An apt, if slightly tongue-in-cheek comparison to the real world is the fact that the cause of student loan forgiveness has been hamstrung and neutered by people furious that, since they didn’t receive help, no one else should - it is a self-centered and retaliatory mentality to lash out so far in jealousy that one would willingly destroy the life of another with the goal of increasing universal suffering.

Sources:

Timestamps available upon request but here are the episodes I’m drawing from. Printed works include pages.

Lolth, Opal, and Dorian: see 3x92-93; see also EXU Prime episode 8, EXU Kymal episode 2 for Opal willingly accepting and EXU Prime episodes 5 and 7 for the Spider Queen trying to get Dorian to put on the circlet.

K’nauth: EXU Calamity episode 2

Asmodeus and Zerxus: EXU Calamity episode 4

Judicators: 3x43

The Raven Queen and Vax: notably 1x44 (initial deal), 1x57 (Duskmeadow communion), 1x103 (her offering him the choice to pass or to become a revenant). Percy is also in 1x57.

The Raven Queen and Morrighan: 3x93.

Vox Machina’s divine favors: 1x104-1x106

Fjord and the Wildmother: 2x65; powers granted in 2x76.

Fy’ra and the Wildmother: 3x93

Essek’s feelings: see the final portion of this excellent post from essektheyless

Ludinus on the gods: 3x45

For causes of the Calamity, see EXU Calamity in its entirety, but Vespin specifically is episode 4, many of Avalir’s actions (including ignoring the hall of prophecy) are episode 2, and Laerryn denying the Arboreal Calix needed energy and casting Blight are in episode 3).

Ashton on the gods: 3x65

Imogen on the gods: 3x79

See page 12 of The Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount regarding the Prime Deities’ choice not to enforce their will during the Age of Arcanum.

Sealing of Predathos: 3x43; destruction of Aeor: EGTW 121; Truce mentioned in 3x67 and has appeared in 3x89 (Vezoden) and 3x92-93 (The Wildmother and Lolth).

Schism: EGTW 12; Divine Gate EGTW 13-14.

Delilah seizing control: 3x23

FCG’s design: 3x32 and 3x45

Chetney and Gorgynei (history and control): 3x40-41

Weave Mind control of Chetney: 3x91

Goals of Ruidusborn: multiple but see 3x48 and 3x89, 3x92 for a strong example with Liliana.

Imperium practices: 3x84

Tuldus: 3x44. Bor’Dor: 3x63. Hearthdell: 3x60-61.

Actions of Uk’otoa: much of Campaign 2 but notably 2x98 and The Mighty Nein Reunited.

Original description of the Dwendalian Empire: Tal’Dorei Campaign Setting (not Reborn) page 99

Goals of the Weave Mind: 3x85

Colonization of the Menagerie Coast: EGTW 17 (largely a peaceful one); Colonization of Tal’Dorei: Tal’Dorei Campaign Setting Reborn page 18 (explicitly stated to be against the wishes of the elves; led in part to the rule of Drassig and Scattered War).

Percy and Vecna: Vecna ascends in 1x106; the events of the Whitestone Occupation begin prior to campaign 1. Percy is in multiple war councils against the Vanguard and notably appears in the plans for a distraction to allow Bells Hells to take the Bloody Bridge in 3x81.

Imogen and Predathos: the revelation that Predathos may be within exaltants comes in 3x92; 3x83 and 3x87 both have involuntary experiences due to Predathos and see Liliana’s arguments in 3x48 as well as Imogen’s discussion of Gelvaan.

Ashton and Ka’Mort: emotional fallout most notably in 3x78; Evontra’vir’s description of what happened with the shard in 3x74. Memories of the Hexum Manor heist can be seen in 3x35.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi! I have been reading you for a long time and would like to ask you something for the first time… The last message flow to the Lethal Company from the Nutcracker was WILDLY SWEET, however, it hurt me from the bracken that was shot through the lytic…. May I ask the bracken and the reader where the bracken constantly goes behind the reader's back…. JUST TO HUG! Someone from the team warns about the danger and the bracken gently takes the reader in his arms to his lair for even bigger hugs!

Bruh you have no idea how soft i am for brackens hfghhs (when I first started playing LC, they were ALWAYS killing me...but now they just like to pop out and scurry away when I look at them, so I consider us to be pretty chill)

Anyways woe Bracken fluff be upon ye <3

.....

Of all the creatures you've encountered during your time with the Company, Brackens were certainly the most complicated.

Even though there's been countless documents and reports of employees scanning, studying, and dying to these aliens...they were still seldom understood. The data on the terminal said so.

There was one in particular who had such a unique behavior pattern that remained a mystery to you.

And he lived on Experimentation, which was supposedly the "safest" moon to land on and gather scrap from.

Most of the time, however, that was a load of bullshit...as you and your crew had many encounters with aggressive lifeforms such as hoarding bugs, Thumpers, spiders, and turrets that were placed in the most inconvenient spots...

Hell, even an Earth Leviathan showed up and nearly consumed your entire ship.

As of right now, though, you were on-track to making the third profit quota's deadline. So a trip to Experimentation was an order, as you could grab minimal loot and still gain enough leftover money to buy some much-needed ship upgrades and tools.

Or maybe new suits or jack o'lanterns.

None of you were good at managing your budget.

But during this trip, you were less focused on getting loot and more eager to see....a certain someone.

Hopefully, he hasn't forgotten about you or mistook you for another random employee.

While two of your coworkers headed into the facility's main entrance and one stayed behind on the ship, you ascended the stairs leading up to the fire exit--armed with nothing but a flashlight and a walkie-talkie.

[Nearby activity detected!]

"Oh come on...can you be anymore vague?" You huffed, slightly annoyed that your scanner displayed the message before you could even touch the damn door.

"Activity" was awfully broad and could mean literally anything was waiting for you on the other side..

It could be a bunker spider or snare flea waiting to drop down on you and catch you by surprise.

It could be a Hygrodere spreading itself all over the floor, anticipating you setting one foot into it before drowning in its slimy body.

It could even be a simple turret ready to turn you into swiss cheese.

However, there's the possibility that it could also be the one entity here who didn't wanna give you a painful death, and you hoped to god you were right.

So you took a leap of faith and entered.

Surprisingly no danger was immediately present, although you did find a lot of good loot inside the room and smiled. "Oh sweet!" You grabbed the rubber ducky and Rubik's cube in the nearest corner, pocketing them. "This should set us way above-"

"Something's behind you!"

"Huh-?!"

All of the sudden, a pair of large arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you back and causing your oxygen tanks to be pressed against the creature's chest-

Wait.

You only knew one Bracken that did that, and you couldn't help but laugh. "Oh my gosh, you scared me! You know you can't keep doing that!"

"Krrrrrr.." The entity purred softly, nuzzling his face against your neck as its leaves rustled with happiness.

With a chuckle, you patted his arm affectionately. "I've missed you, too, buddy. I told you I'd be back."

Knowing it was this Bracken, you felt safer than ever. He had a habit of greeting you this way: by sneaking up behind you like the rest of his species typically did, and attacking you.....not by snapping your neck like a twig, but by embracing and nuzzling you.

Of course, nobody in your crew believed that you've got a dangerous alien predator on Experimentation who always waited for you. Who loved you like a dog and would kill a Thumper for you.

If only they could meet him...but then again, he was shy.

"Don't tell me it's that damn Bracken again...did you tame it or something?"

The staticky voice of your coworker over the walkie-talkie startled the poor Bracken out of the hug, as it dropped you and flared its leaves out, wondering where they were.

"Relax, we're cool." You huffed, annoyed that they spooked your friend. "I gotta conserve my battery so...signal me when it gets close to midnight."

"....fine. Just don't die. Over and out."

After switching off the device, you turned back to him and smiled apologetically. "Don't worry. They're far away, so they won't bother us." You removed your helmet for the moment.

He nodded in understanding, crouching down to get a better look at your human features.

For some reason he never minded prolonged eye contact with you--and that was a good thing....otherwise, you would've been dead a long time ago.

You smiled and patted the top of his head, before he suddenly sprung up and scooped you up into his arms, lifting you completely off the ground. "Woah! Hey! Where are we going?" You asked as he carried you out of the room, taking you somewhere further within the facility.

Considering the Bracken knew his way around, you weren't too concerned with getting lost.

On your way to this unknown destination, you spotted a hoarding bug skittering down the hallway, eyeing the brass bell attached to your belt.....only to freeze as the leafy entity glared at it.

Luckily it understood the appropriate time to make eye contact with a Bracken, as it eventually looked away from him and decided to leave for another part of the facility.

It seems most of the creatures were knew who was the alpha.

'Man, whoever's tracking me must be so confused right now..' You thought to yourself as he continued walking.

Eventually you both arrived at a place many employees dubbed the "Bracken Room": a large open illuminated space with yellowish walls that looked out of place in the facility.

After setting you down on the floor, you looked at the Bracken with confusion, wondering why he decided to bring you here....until he brought you into another hug, wanting to sit down and have you in his lap.

You just smiled and wrapped your arms around him, giggling as he tucked his head underneath your chin, wanting to listen to the sound of a human's heartbeat.

Now you understood.

All he wanted was to take you to a quiet, safe place away from all the other monsters and employees. A place where he could have you to himself...at least for a couple more hours, anyways.

You knew the ship wasn't leaving anytime soon, so you didn't mind keeping him company.

While other Brackens are among the top three reasons employees hated their job...this one made you love it.

You feel so lucky, you'll consider buying a lottery ticket if you ever returned to Earth.

[the-kr8tor]

Oh my god i was scrolling through instagram and now i want lifeguard hobie x reader or lifeguard reader x hobie. Like either would be cute and imagine they start talking more and more. Think of how cute itd be. Maybe itd both be when they were teens and now they are looking back on it. Young summer romance and love? And now it could be fast forward where they are at the beach together instead of the pool one of them had worked as a lifeguard at. Heksndnekdksjeabandsk

I chose the first one! Thank you for requesting, bestie! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You've been up and down the same whirly slide for at least an hour. It's not even that special, the slide, it's just an ordinary one that has a drop and a short loopty loop. It's so common that there's only a handful of people lining up for it, they prefer to go down the most popular one that has the strobe lights and a hundred feet long tunnel.

You've been going on it for how many times that you've lost count and going down the slide isn't even as fun anymore. The number of times you've gone up and down has significantly made it less thrilling. You're sure that your friends might think you're crazy because you've left them for a water park slide. But they don't know that it isn't the slide that you've grown fond of, it's the hot lifeguard that keeps smiling and making conversation at you while you're in line.

Your hair clings to your wet face and you stink of chlorine but the lifeguard that you only know from his nametag still beams at you like you're the only person in the entire water park. ‘Ned’ once again greets you at the top of the slide, chiseled face shining in the late afternoon sun. It's that late and you have no idea or concept of time anymore because of the fit bloke talking to you about how Olympic synchronized swimmers need to put gelatin in their hair so it doesn't mess up their routine and thermodynamics.

“A bit weird, innit?” He taps the yellow floatie in his arms, rubber squeaking as the familiar rush of water filters in your ears. “Imagine me using that instead of hair gel before a show. Less mess I bet,” he blinks, the cogs in his head turning. “Huh, I guess it's not that bad. It'll last longer too.”

You look behind you, expecting a few people waiting their turn, to your happiness, you find no one. You've got the slide all to yourself, or him for that matter. “I guess so, but wouldn't it be hard to take it off?” You're intrigued by the word ‘show.’ Your new friend has a side you never knew in the last two hours you've been chatting with him.

“I might buy one of those little shovels to get rid of them.” He shrugs, and you tilt your head, wanting to get to know eachother better especially now that the water park is about to close. “Just scoop it out y’know.” He gestures like he's digging in his head.

“Or you could ask for help.” Your heart hammers in your chest, hoping, praying to any entity out there listening to you that he wants to know you too.

He chuckles, piercings shining, laugh rumbling in his throat. “You volunteerin’?”

You inhale, trying to act nonchalant by leaning over the mouth of the slide. Arms crossed on your torso, you finally ask. “If you want to, I'm curious about those shows you're in.”

Nodding, his heart pounds with excitement. “I'm in a band, love. If you'd do me the honour.” Your hands are getting sweatier and sweatier, you don't notice your body slowly sliding downwards. “Do I have to dunk my hair in gelatine so you'd come to our show next week on Friday at the white horse pub at eight pm?”

“It's not a prerequisite. And that was very smooth, Ned, very smooth.”

His loud laugh echoes, you're sure that the entire park heard it louder than the thrumming of your heart and your big fat crush on the lifeguard. “Thanks, love, but uh,” he leans forward, you can see every green speck in his hazel eyes. “My name isn't Ned.”

“W-what?” With one wrong foot over the other, you slip and fall inside the slide, ‘Ned’ gets smaller and smaller by the second you're inside. “What's your name then?!” Your voice echoes inside the plastic, warbling as you go down the slide. “Fuck!” You plunge into the pool, water in your ears and eyes as you swim up and cough out chlorine filled water. “Goddamnit,” you splash the water with your hands, frustrated that you might've lost who could've been the love of your life. At least you know where his band would be playing.

“It's Hobie.” His voice suddenly appears above you, hand reaching downwards to help you. Chest noticeably heaving, sweat dripping down his temple. He ran down the long steps to get down to you as fast as he could.

“What?” You splutter, not the most attractive thing to do.

“My actual name, it's Hobie.” ‘Hobie’ points at his nametag. “I nicked this from a friend so I could get in for free, the manager found me so now I had to work a shift. But I could think of one good thing that happened to me today though.” His smug smile makes you hide under the water.

“You could've started with that, Hobie.” You reach towards his helping hand. “You do not look like a Ned—!” With a pull, you yank him inside the pool. You laugh, and he resurfaces drenched from head to toe.

“Cheeky.” He wipes his palms on his eyelids and he blinks at you standing over him.

“I'll see you on friday, Hobie?” You saying his name is music to his ears, or that might be the water in his ears. But the sight of you with the backdrop of the cotton candy orange sky makes his thwarted evil plan all worth it. “I'll bring the gelatine.”

“And I’ll brin' the little shovel.” Hobie smiles up at you. Maybe he should bring something nice to Ned as a thank you and compensation for almost getting him fired.

[vonev]

Hey there! Can you do a Miguel x spiderwoman reader where during a mission Miguel accidentally hurts you pretty badly while trying to get you out of the way of the anomaly, leaving you in a medically induced coma for a couple days while you heal? I wanna see an incredibly gentle, guilt-ridden Miggy visiting you when you wake up and treating you like you’re made of glass

Calling (just to save you, I'd give all of me)

Miguel O'Hara x reader Oneshot

Words: 6.06k (yeah i know)

Warnings: Graphics depictions of Violence, Angst, Blood and Violence.

Summary:

A mission gone wrong, some crying, more suffering, rocky relationships (emphasis on the rocky part)

And after all of it, you prevailed. With him.

Tl;dr: Miguel is a crybaby

It was a normal Tuesday night at the headquarters. 11 pm to be exact.

God knows why you stayed as long as you did—having to juggle missions upon missions the entire week because Miguel decided to loosely throw them at you.

Capturing what seemed like an endless sea of anomalies.

“You’re our most capable.” He had said, not even facing you when he once again sent you off on another job to fend for yourself. 

Trying to ask to be replaced was met with a sounding “No.” from the big guy himself, so you stopped trying altogether.

Less questions, more work.

Even if the side of your ribs were bruised from the last encounter with a previous anomaly.

Whatever. Bringing your injury up would just have you end up being demeaned and insulted like a school kid who skipped last week’s homework. At least that was what you assumed.

You grew tired of it eventually, wanting to have more than 6 hours of sleep per day and being able to actually live your life—the birthday cake for a friend sat comfortably inside the fridge of your apartment lingers on your mind as you swung through the familiar sight of the city; another rendition of New York, another variant of an anomaly. 

That wasn’t to say you didn’t enjoy the thrill and adrenaline that came with the job—no, you loved it. No one ever told you how fun being a superhero can be (aside from the decades of trauma you had to go through) and being able to propel yourself into the air with webs as the people below you gawked at your presence. 

The New York breeze hit your figure like a welcomed embrace, the moon winked at you behind fading beds of clouds. You continue slingshotting yourself down the streets, deja-vu splashed in your face with how eerily similar the roads were to the ones back home; shaking your head, you let out a soft sigh and relish in the cold night’s wind. 

Today’s mission: an unknown entity that plagued Earth 1610, the only information you were given via a loosely thrown together email from Miguel was that the entity could possess powers greater than we all understood—but with a limited amount of time, you would (hopefully) capture it just in time before it discovered its full potential. 

You’d think with how smart the boss-man was, he wouldn’t send a sleep-deprived Spider into such missions with how severe things could turn if everything went wrong.

“I’ll send him an email to complain later, for sure.” You promised yourself; because you were supposed to do just that days ago when tasks started rolling in for you without breaks.

Solo-tasks, might you add.

A cherry on top of the already spoiled cake, salt on the wound, a slap to the face. You grunted, and an alarm sounding from nearby caught you by surprise amidst the (somewhat) quiet of the city. In the snap of a finger, you flung yourself in a different direction, changing the tides in the waves while the wind that hit your face came to a halt once you landed on a roof belonging to a rather tall building. 

The viewing angle from above gave you a clear look into what had transpired underneath.

You squint, arms folded neatly in between your thighs as you crouched over the ledge of the building; from what you could see, nothing was amiss—everything looked to be in place. Letting out an annoyed scoff, you were about to turn on your tail before the ear-piercing sound of glass shattering into pieces hit your eardrums. 

You immediately snapped around, and panic ensued when the people on the streets started screaming, running amok like wild animals scattering away into their safe spaces. You, on the other hand, now have to clean up the mess—you had no clue where this universe’s Spiderman was, nor did anyone brief you on it.

Nonetheless you approached the bust-up shop with a wavy heart, praying to something out there that there weren’t any critically injured persons. As you stalked near the front of the shop, you could hear loud banters inside; curious, you stare into the messy excuse for an interior: broken decors, smashed up shelvings, and items sprawled out across the floor inside.

You took the opportunity and shot yourself up to the ceiling, both your soles and fingertips clutching onto the surface, cautiously crawling further into the shop. 

“Please—” a voice yelled out, “Just let me steal your ATM machine!”

Your lips part, dumbfounded.

“No! Ey! Get away from—” You finally managed to grasp the scene that played out in front of you.

The store manager was running around with a bat in his hands, and the other person that seemed to be wearing a costume with black spots, a jean jacket slung over his shoulders and a rather cute bucket hat. To your surprise, the man evaded the attack when a black hole had been summoned under the manager’s feet, causing him to fall into the portal and out of another one…

…Right above you.

You yelped at the sudden contact on your back, the manager’s weight had you both falling face first into the shards-filled floor; his body cushioned by yours.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” 

The man behind you rolled off, allowing you to take a step and collect yourself as you slowly stood up. Debris started filling up your senses, and the pain from having been cut by thousands of glass shards made you wince in response. You pushed it all down, needing to finish the job as soon as possible so you could flee from more missions when you go back to the headquarters.

You even considered retiring from your spot in the team.

Speaking of spots…

You peered up, eyes catching onto the odd appearance of the man in front of you, who was still attempting to find a way to escape with the ATM. If you hadn’t been as irritated and grumpy as you were, you’d have found the situation hilarious.

“You gotta let that go, big man.” He whipped his head around, eyes darting around before locking in on you. “I’m sorry, I can’t—wait, you look different from my Spiderman.” His head tilted in confusion; you only rolled your eyes in retort, not wanting to drag your already long day out. Webs shot out of your wrists, launching them toward the direction of his foot.

Watching in disbelief as another hole appeared right where his foot would’ve been, the webs flinging into the black void and you felt the substance land on your back, knocking your balance forward.

“What the,” confused, you feel around for it, your fingers finding the source, tracing the substance behind you. “How did you fucking do that?” You glared him down, seeing his stature falter and hands thrown up into the air in defense. 

“Whoa whoa, language!” He wagged a finger at you, giving you his head shake of disapproval. 

“Shut up.”

“That’s just plain rude, young lady—hold on, you’re a lady right?” Your eye twitched in annoyance. 

“Has anyone ever said you’re way too chatty?” 

He was fidgeting with his hands, looking away and feeling nervous, unsure of how to respond to your jab. Before he could get another word out, the bottom of your feet connected with his chest, sending his body back against the wall with a loud ‘thud’ watching as he fell on his backside.

“Oof.”

 He let out a soft grunt, rubbing the sore spot on his butt; right before you did a chain-attack, he caught your foot with another one of his black holes, your foot now appearing on the other side of the store and out of sight.

“That wasn’t very nice. Listen, I just need some money, let me go and—” He threw the ATM onto a pile of cans and started rolling it out of your way, pushing the huge machine as fast as he could. Pulling back your foot in time, your calf connected with his face, making him trip over the cans comically with his arms flailing in the air.

You quickly reached down to fetch your trap to secure your win.

That would be too easy, though. 

Side-stepping a portal of void that almost ate you up, you winced at the pain that shot through your ribs due to your rapid movements. Biting through the pain, you maneuvered to where his body laid and tackled him to the ground once more when he tried to stand up; from then on, it was a cat fight. With you trying to get him detained and him attempting to pry you off of him.

Suddenly, another hole manifested beneath the two of you, watching in horror as you both fell through and landed harshly on top of the rooftop you originally occupied prior; the back of your head collided into the concrete ground; a poor excuse for a cushion.

It fucking hurt.

You were pretty sure you smelled blood.

He tried to get up, but you tumbled the two of you near the ledge of the building; in the midst of all the actions, he found dominance over you when he had your upper body hanging off the ledge with his grip on the collar of your suit. Blood thumped through your eardrums along with the loud horns of traffic, your heart racing in a million miles, if anyone looked up, they'd think you were insane for getting yourself in the situation. 

Maybe you are. 

Call for backup.

It would be so easy; the gizmo hugged your wrist, just one push of a button and someone will be here—

Too late, his grip on you wavered and you plummet into the air.

Fuck.

You quickly attempt to shoot more webs to find purchase on something, anything. 

But terror washed over you the second you realized you had conveniently run out of webbing fuel—being the dumbass you were, you had completely forgotten to get it refilled before the mission at the station back in headquarters.

Closing your eyes, you braced yourself for the impact; your body going limp to soften the blow.

You let out a loud yelp when something flew out of the air beside you and clashed against your body, but you don’t feel the shock at the contact—instead, the warmth of a large arm wrapped around your midsection and you feel the cold wind whiplash you.

Opening your eyes, you were (pleasantly) surprised to find that Miguel caught you just in-time, right before you could suffer any more blunt injuries. You almost cried at the sight of him, his name teased the tip of your tongue, wanting to wrap your arms around him for a hug; you pulled yourself back just in time before you could react on your impulse.

You were still mad at Miguel, you have to act like it.

Before you know it, he came to a halt around a corner into an alleyway and swung down to place you down gently on the ground, your feet now free from the feeling of being dangled in the air. His eyes flickered over your face, then down your body; his arm still pressed into your waist as he squeezed your flesh out of instinct. 

Bad move, the squeeze, no matter how gentle, pressed into your bruised rib. The pain sending a wave of shocks throughout your torso, you immediately pushed him away with a small hiss. You couldn’t see it, but hurt flashed through his eyes when you forced yourself out of his grip, his arm falling back to his side; unknowing of its purpose.

He wouldn’t willingly admit it, but the rare moments he would get to feel the heat of your body against him sent him to heaven: like that one time your shoulder pressed into his at the cafeteria, the times your naked fingers would brush over his skin, when your back used to press up on his during missions back in the days he went with you. Sinfully, he would recall that specific time your chest pushed into his torso during a stealth mission, the temptation to take you right there and then a devilish thought that circled his mind.

(Don’t ask what he had done in the shower after the mission debrief.)

That was part of the reason he had stopped frequenting jobs with you, even when you came into his office and invited him; you were met with rejections after rejections, soon enough, he noticed that you stopped trying—and the painful gnaw at his chest reminded him of your growing distant attitude with him, too. Miguel refused to let his personal life interfere with his business, and the last person he would want to hurt was you. 

Unknowingly, he had done exactly that whenever he would gradually push your presence away.

Having meals weren’t the same anymore, not when you stopped showing up to his office everyday with his favorite food like a routine, he’d eat less and less as the days passed by; without you there to continuously pester him, he found himself reverting back to his old habits—working after late hours, not sleeping enough, not eating enough, barely talking to anyone unless absolutely necessary. 

He had came to the realization that somehow, long ago, your presence had become such a grounding part of his life; the gentle yet persistent reminder that he deserved love and care too, to stop hogging all the responsibilities alone and share his burden with someone who he can trust, and it all manifested into you.

Miguel recognized he royally fucked up when you both barely see each other face-to-face anymore, you stopped showing up to debriefings, the only time he’d get to remotely speak to you was when he sent you off to missions.

He knew he was harsh, yes, but he fully believed in your capability to handle yourself—but while he was relentless, he still cared. 

Hence why he arrived and interjected your mission, wanting to extend a helping hand.

“Fuck—what are you doing here?!” You shouted over the loud traffic, emotions taking control of your mind, before Miguel could protest, screams broke out from beside you both. “Shit, let’s get this over with, big man.” 

You paused, momentarily forgotten that your webbings ran out of fuel and mentally slapped yourself in the face.

As if he read your mind, he fished out a tube from behind him and threw it your way. You caught it just in time and practically rushed to throw the lid off, tipping the mouth over to allow the liquid flow into the web gadget integrated into your suit. You threw a mumbled “thanks” his way and chucked the tube out of sight.

“Come on,” you nod toward the opening of the alleyway with an arm raised and pull yourself upward with your web. 

It was supposed to be an easy job: brawl with the anomaly, win the brawl, capture it.

But this one was starting to grate your nerves—and you were sure Miguel felt the same too, you could sense the rage radiating off of his huge stature like sirens; chasing down the guy who had re-introduced himself as the Spot when you caught up with him earlier, unintentionally finding himself falling in and out of accidental portals he materialized. 

“Stop running!” Yelling, you proceeded to jump into the portal he went through, he was always barely a hair away; yet as clumsy as he was, managed to get away every single time.  

“Stop chasing me!” Spot shouted back, tripping over the back of his foot and almost falling into one of the portals entirely. 

He managed to barely swerve out of the way when Miguel lunged at him from behind, his claws swooping in the air where Spot used to be. It became a constant back-and-forth; you would shoot yourself closer to him and Miguel would come from his back, essentially cornering him, then Spot would narrowly escape; rinse and repeat. Exhaustion crept up on you eventually, nagging the back of your mind as you tapped into your adrenaline to stay awake and alerted of your surroundings. 

Miguel noticed it, too, and he went even harder—the intensity of his ferocity grew when he realized he had to end things soon before someone gets injured; he prayed to God it wouldn’t be you. 

Somehow, more portals had opened up, and all you could do was avoid falling into them; the possibility of coming face first into the asphalt roads were too high for you to take the chance. Miguel almost got caught in one; hardly dodging a portal that conjured on the wall he stuck to. But unlike you, he was willing to test out his theory, reeling his body back to prepare launching himself into the portal. And he did just that—his reward? A high-five of his face with another set of walls. 

He grunted, out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted you latching onto Spot’s back; desperately trying to push him down onto a solid surface. You both spun into another portal and crashed on a different rooftop, Miguel rushed over with claws ravaging the innocent bricks he crawled on; when he went up, he saw the two of you gasping for air on the ground. 

You clutched the side of your rib, an indescribable amount of pain overtook your senses; you were pretty sure your ankle was broken when it was caught on a pole. Spot got up earlier than you, and was about to speed off before he felt a large hand tugging at the back of his shirt. 

It all happened so fast: reeling in a punch, the adrenaline pumping in Miguel’s veins, Spot’s utter shock at the face of Death himself, the supposed impact of the fist with the other’s face…

…Only for the force to be directed to you in the heat of the moment when a portal happened to manifest where Spot’s face would’ve been.

It was an accident, really, an unintentional line of actions from Spot— he was way too out of it when he figured he was about to go through his final moment; his portals shot out in panic, lucky for him, it was the reason he evaded Miguel’s death fist.

Unlucky for you, the other end of the portal had been right in front of you the whole time; yet in the midst of you processing your surroundings, you hadn’t realized quicker that your senses were screaming for you to dodge out of the way.

The conclusion? You, having just been punched in your guts, falling down a building amongst the New York you shouldn’t have stepped a foot in if you knew the outcome at all. The gust of wind pumped in your ears as you fell, and fell.

No worries—you’ve got your handy-dandy webs, right? 

Oh how you wished you hadn’t been wrong.

Miguel had snatched a random refill off of his own shelf when he was about to depart, not bothering to check for its content after his recent use; just shy of a quarter, barely enough to last an average Spider’s fill an hour of webbing. In his defense, he had been distraught when Lyla popped in earlier to warn him of your vitals: most specifically your injuries. He would’ve never sent you out in the first place if he knew you suffered from broken ribs.

But all you knew was that you somehow fucked yourself over.

Panic ensued.

And now, you suffered the consequences of his actions.

“Miguel!” A call for help; he was your last hope.

The fall wasn’t a particularly long one, and you normally would breeze through the impact and pain like a champ—except you have never fell from a building with ribs that squeezed your organs tight, ankle that would most likely not support your landing even if you tried, the adrenaline you lived off of now benched on the side leaving you stranded for some form of strength to pull yourself together in the span of a few seconds.

Your shoulder hit the ground first, then your head; the harsh impact created a string of reactions to your already abused body: pain shooting up your nerves, the corners of your eyes dimming despite the bright lights flashing around you.

Unbeknownst to the three of you, policemen started showing up once someone reported a supposed break-in at the shop you investigated; the sound of blaring sirens filled your eardrums like honey whilst the flashing of red and blue assaulted your blurry sight. 

Barely able to distinguish what was happening in front, you attempted to prop yourself up on your elbow; but the more you tried, the more lights started diminishing in your vision. Breathing has never felt so difficult, either.

Miguel was a step too late when he came to you; after having realized what had occurred, he dropped Spot in an instant like a hot potato, prioritizing saving you instead of proceeding with the mission’s objective. He was aware of the policemen being present at the scene when they started noticing your slumped body in the middle of the road, crowding together to watch as you struggled to lift yourself up—they all stood and observed, no one reached out to help, none.

He was by your side right away, his one hand supporting the weight of your head while the other clutching at the hem of your mask, lifting it over your eyes.

His hand felt…wet.

As if things couldn’t possibly get worse: he watched the stiff expression on your face contorted with pain, you seemed to have recognized him as you slowly reached a weak arm out to caress his face, your thumb gently glossing over his cheekbone, your touches light like feathers. His mask concealed the despair in his features, the hues of red and blues still shone on his back as everyone else stayed aside and spectated. 

Your hand soon dropped to your side, unmoving, your head now heavier than ever in his hand.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

Miguel held your small, delicate hand into his, the tears teasing the corner of his eye as he watched your life slipped by those eyes of yours he’d grown to adore.

-

“You can’t live like this, Miguel.” 

Lyla crossed her arms over her chest, trailing Miguel’s tiny movements on the desk. His fingers delicately move across the keys on the keyboard, imputing password after password for locked files. 

“Seriously,” Lyla sighed, rubbing her temple. “You’re starting to worry me.” 

“Nothing to worry about, Lyla, get me the decoded files from yesterday.” Miguel ignored her pestering, choosing to focus on his work and his work only.

That was his routine for the past 5 days or so.

After the entire slip-up in Earth 1610, Miguel had been busting his ass to hunt down the anomaly for every hour he was awake; granted, he did take care of other responsibilities too—babysitting Mayday on Monday, depatching teams to bring back more anomalies, and visiting you every day. 

And also dealing with that kid he found out to be the Spider-man from Earth-1610.

He hadn’t missed a single day of visiting you, who still laid in the hospital bed at the infirmary he cleared out for you. 

Everyday. On the clock. 5 am when he woke up, when lunchtime struck, and in the late hours of night when he should be spending on getting enough rest.

Lyla had been there through it all, watching Miguel’s tormented back every single minute he was awake as he continuously starved himself off of the bare minimums. 

Food, water, sleep, you name it all. 

And as his assistant, his well-being was her number one priority—hence the constant pestering that would be swatted away, food that went cold despite Peter having brought them in hours ago upon Lyla’s request and his growing concern for his friend in the chair. Jess’s occasional visits to check up on Miguel, wondering if the day she stepped in would be the day she would see his lifeless body on the desk with how much neglect he reflected on himself. Even the new recruits dropped in to say hello, just to see that he was doing…okay in his book: which was not okay in everyone else’s.

Everyone was worried. 

About you, of course, and him too.

The situation had clearly taken a heavy toll on him.

But Lyla understood more than anyone else that it wasn’t because of his work, his dwelling traumatic past, or how he barely had any rest for the past 120 hours. 

No one else knew of his infatuation with you except for her—and that was only because she snooped through his things, finding the little knit-knacks he kept from all those times you came and dropped it off: the tiny Miguel plushie you made when you impulsively decided to take up knitting that one time, the shirt of yours you had forgotten to take back when you visited his office at late hours, soaked from the rain outside and sneezing everywhere. 

“Hey Mig—“ sneeze. “I came to see y—“ sneeze. “I—“ and you sneezed. 

“For the love of God,” Miguel turned around, seeing your soaked clothes that cling to your body, and having to turn away for just a tiny moment to compost himself when he caught sight of your curves. 

Groaning, he pulled out one of his drawers and shuffled through and fished out a new shirt—undoubtedly his with how large it was. 

His shirt was a sight on you, fitting perfectly yet still draping over your thighs just slightly when you went to get changed. 

The image of you that night burned into his head, forever engraved in his brain. 

Then there was the polaroid picture of the two of you when you had forced Miguel to “take a selfie with me!” when you picked up a weirdly shaped camera from a thrift store in your universe (something something you saying to be smart and conserve money). “It’s called InstaX, it—here, let me show you” and snapped a picture. 

In the picture, his expression was one of annoyance, and you were squeezed against his shoulder with a toothy grin on your face. 

Lyla saw how Miguel would come back with tiny frames that he thought would frame the film perfectly, but ultimately was defeated when he decided to just stick it in-between the pages of his files labeled: Classified.

She was the only one ever to know the content inside: mostly pictures of Gabriella’s (poor) baking, first day at school, when Gabriella won her first competitive soccer match; and then there was you.

She knew how important you were to him; yet to her complete and utter confusion, Miguel always kept to himself about his little (big) crush—even though she could clearly tell you were just as interested as he was, too. 

He was the densest man you had the pleasure of knowing. 

He never made a move; and now, he might never get another chance to.

Now you were reduced to a sitting duck, once a shell of what you were; your body laid in the bed he frequented more than his own, the lively demeanor that you carried with you before turned into a tune of stable heartbeats beeping from the machinery installed next to you: the only indicator you were still alive. 

Guilt was the only thing he knew for a while; when he’d step into the shower as the cold water bit the skin of his back, like he was willingly punishing himself for allowing that incident to happen. 

Everywhere he went, whatever he did, he was only reminded of your face.

“If only I had been there sooner.”  

He’d say to himself while he peered down at your figure, not there but, there. You were barely hanging, and part of him knew that it was your determination to fight through whatever battle was going on inside your head during the coma. 

“Por favor,” his hand held yours, careful to avoid the IV’s that pricked your skin, forehead sticky with sweat after having just come back from a specifically tough mission that day.

“Concédeme este deseo.” 

He would whisper sweet-nothings to you, praying to himself at night by your bedside that you’d wake up one of these days with that smile he yearned for. And for someone to finally share the extra empanadas he would always bring in, to hope that one day, you’d get to share this joy with him. 

The joy of eating together again.

So imagine his surprise when he walked into your room tonight, and found you sat up with the metal frame supporting your back. 

You were awake.

And most importantly, you were alive. 

He had never sprinted so fast in his life; the warm pack of empanadas he brought from the cafeteria drop to the floor, the gentle ‘thud’ catching your zoned out self by complete surprise, your face softened once your gaze landed on Miguel; who was frantically patting your face and checking your vitals to confirm that yes, you are here. 

Your hand reached up to palm his that lingered on your cheek, his eyes finally settled on you, slowly taking in the fact that you were now right there in front of him. 

“Miguel,” a small knowing smile tugged at your lips, your eyes the most gentle he’d ever seen. “It’s okay, I’m right here.”

He was still so afraid, so afraid that you would just slip by his fingers again; so he held onto you for dear life, fingers gripping your one cheek and hand with the others. 

“Estoy tan contenta de que estés aquí,” You whispered. 

A soft quiver of his lips; barely there—that was when the dam broke, and his tears started flowing down his sullen cheeks. 

You panicked, wondering if you had butchered your Spanish so bad you shamed him to tears.

“I’m…I’m sorry?” You tilt your head in confusion and worry. Miguel only shook his head, a small chuckle emitted from him; as if he knew what you had been thinking. 

“Don’t be sorry, silly.” He looked up at you with those earnest eyes of his; ones that melt your heart and warm your soul. You’d taken a liking to him early on; though you weren’t sure when it started, only where it started: during a mission, when the two of you grew physically close, so close.

His breaths fanning down your face, your breathing grew heavy with each and every second; that was when you knew you were in too deep. 

You would know it’d take heaven and hell to pull you apart from this man. 

There he kneeled, lips on the back of your hand as his thumb gently caressed your cheekbone, enjoying the way hues of red spread out on your cheeks. 

There was no way of escaping it now: the pent up tension of a confession teasing the air around you both, and soon, one of you was bound to crack.

“I have something to tell you—“

“I have something to say—“

Only that you both did it at once, together.

Miguel stared at you, lips slightly parted with the ghost of his words and eyes widened, then he cracked into a fit of roaring laughter—and you joined in.

Laughter filled what was once a room only occupied by the sound of your heartbeats on the machine, the two of you clutched each other’s hand, the high soon dying down to mere giggles; as if you two were high-school sweethearts with muffled chuckles thrown at each other in the back of the class. 

You two were in your own little world, a bubble that secured around your bodies, forever molding the shape of what once was and what will be. 

Wiping away the happy tear in your eye, you stared at Miguel’s devilishly handsome face, and the gorgeous smile you oh-so-rarely get the privilege of seeing. The muted rhythm of his chest rising and falling, in sync to yours, like two lovers on the dance floor—not even the sky could stop your love for each other. 

“I love you.” 

You blurted out; sure, you were 98% certain Miguel reciprocated your feelings, but that small node of anxiety still tugged at the back of your mind, terrified that you misunderstood his gestures all these times.

But wouldn’t the words he whispered to you during your sleep be all washed away if that was true? 

It was a risk, and you took it; it was now or never. 

“I—“ Miguel stammered, his heart screaming at him to just lean in and—

—kiss you.

His lips were nothing like you’d ever imagine; it was all the best parts multiplied by infinity: soft, full of all the love he had to give, and passionate. 

The kiss lasted for what felt like eternity—part of you wished it did, and you’d be content to die like this, your lips forever engraved on his. 

Miguel swore he heard the choir sung to him, albeit with crooked notes; but maybe because he did.

He slowly turned around, and you, who also does the same.

His colleagues had been quietly watching all this time from behind the doors: Peter with Mayday in tow as she cooed at the sight, Jess and that motherly smile of hers—Miles, Gwen, Hobie and Pavitr all stood with heads peeking through the gap of the doors. Even Lyla was there, although she simply floated over Peter's shoulder, joining in on the choir; their mouths agape with barely harmonized tunes of a holy song slipping out of their mouths. Amateur at best, unbearable at worst. 

Pavitr carried with the vocals, as always. 

They only stopped once they realized they had been caught; thinking that you two were in too deep to notice that there were more guests coming. 

“What…are you guys doing here?” Miguel asked, his tone more of a threat than a genuine question.

“We got some food—“ Peter perked up, but was instantly cut off by Hobie.

“‘o watch some sappy romance, ‘ey boss man?” Hobie high-fived Lyla's glitchy hologram, the latter wearing a smirk too wide for her face and nodding aggressively.

“Do the shoulder trick!” Miles yelled out; Gwen looked at him in horror then back to Miguel, this time, it was her who was shaking her head aggressively while crossing her arms into a giant X shape. 

Miguel snarled at Miles, not appreciating the cheesy suggestion of a pick-up line while everything went so well for him before they all busted in. 

“Remember to host a Sangeet bro! Oh Gayatri is super good at doing Henna—“  

“Hey I wanna be the flower girl!” Gwen piped up. 

“No, Miguel told me long ago Mayday would be—“

“She’s not even old enough, Peter, can she even throw a fistful of flowers?” Gwen crossed her arms in protest.

“I’ll have you know she’s an extremely capable baby, right, Mayday?” Peter looked down, only to see that Mayday had once again been chewing on his pink robe like always, blabbering with spit foaming at her mouth. 

“Oh Christ—“ Jess chuckled at the absurdity of the sight, a hand on her hip and the other tracing soothing circles on her belly; just as Miguel had been doing it with your hand the entire time.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh knowing that the special moment between the two of you had been ruined by a bunch of nosy gremlins. 

Your hand went up to remove his hand from his face, and even with how (incredibly) noisy the room became with banters and bickering thrown around; it was all quiet with him, only the stable heartbeats of you both reached your ears.

For once, your life was complete.

Miguel glanced into your eyes, the adoration swarmed your orbs; behind them, he could see far into the future where you both exist, always beside each other like glue to a paper—with you on his hips and his on yours.

And at last, Miguel had found what he had been missing from his life. 

------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note: Thank you so much for this suggestion Anon, it's my first one ever and I hope i did not disappoint u.u, I LOVED writing this and it got me tearing up reminiscing some fictional (sexy) mexican man. Hope u enjoyed!

ps: pls excuse the spanish i only have spanishdict as my holy grail (pls also DO correct me if needed!)

[kathegoose]

the compane i think

lineup of every (at least somewhat) biological entity (aside from earth leviathan) in lethal company!!!

again, non-VHS version under cut with some wacko headcanons and allat!

WOOHOO!!!!!!! so here are my extra headcanons and other minor changes because i am allowed to ramble about my art if i want to👍👍 (Those without any HC dumps here are pretty much as they are already, nothing to talk about them!)

Tiny bugs: the locust, bee and wasp are made to faintly resemble their real life counterparts aside from the reused fly model as in the game.

Manticoil: i will get either praised or executed for this but i made the extra wings.... leg wings. like a microraptor. but it does come with a reason, yes! it is practically impossible to evolve a new pair of limbs, it's either remove or change existing parts when it comes to evolution, and the manticoils are just evolved corvids in canon!

Hoarding bug: made to resemble hymenoptera more, as they are - again - canonically in this order of real life animal :]

Spore lizard: back scutes and more toes added to, you guessed it; resemble their earth relatives (in this case alligators) more.

Bunker spider: spider pitter patter feet :D

Thumper: more earth-relative (chondrichthyes) resemblance, especially the mouth is more shark-like.

Baboon hawk: earth thing again and also made the 'wings' the brightest, since i believe they pose no other purpose than social display.

Bracken: i've been WAITING to talk about my brackens' symmetrical, two-thumbed hands. PERFECT (i think?) for grabbing a victim's head to do a little snappin'. also the claws are just on the hands to really make sure they have a firm grip, and not on the padded, almost mitten-like feet for silent sneaking! (even though they are usually quadrupedal)

Eyeless dog: okay fellas but... that's no actual mammal (as we know) i think. the in-game head shape is too ridiculous to have evolved from anything and the class saeptivus doesn't even exist! what i think is a re-evolving of mammals at play, say.. synapsida 2.0 perhaps. so i took creative liberties and made the dog a taaaad bit more fish-like with a line of sensory pits on their sides kinda like a fish's lateral line. suits the blind critter :]

Nutcracker: some little paint job changes and added some hinge doohickeys to accentuate the mechanical properties of the nutcracker itself that the meaty-eye-hermit-thing is operating.

Jester: i am simply here to say that i would like to bite a chunk off of the jester's meat gluppo.

Forest keeper: ok so there is the cool octopus-style beak yeah and i gave it tiiiiny little silly pinky-thumbs as they're probably canonically related to the brackens but MY GOD!!!!!!! I HATED COLOURING THAT THING!!! what colour is it even if I HAD TO FNAF 3 BLAST IT. that's how you know that i didn't like doing it sorry giant enjoyers i didn't enjoy colouring large jonathan (my fan name for them) :[

[anouchard]

Malevolent Liveblog: Episode 11

SURPRISE

Spoilers under the cu(l)t ...

"LEFT.

THE OTHER LEFT."

"NO. LISTEN TO ME."

John, your voice is voicing.

oooooh are they gonna infiltrate?

John finding the mask comforting. 🥹

yessssss

"I ... yes. I think this works."

WHAT THE HELL.

HOW DO THEY KNOW WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ARTHUR. WHAT THE ACTUAL HECK.

THIS IS INSANE.

ARTHUR ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS.

Lmao all I can think is "is the Entity you worship in the room with us right now?"

ARE WE THE CULT.

IS HARLAN THE CULT.

I mean Harlan is everyone, so ... yes.

HAS THIS ENTIRE THING BEEN A TEST FOR ARTHUR.

John's bedside manner continues to be immaculate.

THERE IS NOW SOMETHING ON THE PAGE.

Uh oh.

NO WAY NO WAY NO NO NO

WHAT THE HELL HOW IS THIS CONTINUING.

CREATURE.

OH GOD.

Harlan Guthrie how dare you tap in to my very specific fear of spooky books that write your destiny as you go along.

"You're being a puppet and you don't even see it." 👀

OH FOR GOD'S SAKE IT'S A SPIDER.

YEAH, WE GET THAT IT'S A BIG SPIDER, JOHN.

JUST TELL HIM TO RUN, STOP DESCRIBING.

HA Arthur just said the exact same thing.

Listen, I like spiders.

But WOW.

That was INTENSE.

Arthur and John are both capable of being fantastic and abysmal in a crisis. So far, it seems they take turns.

OH MY GOD you guys do they literally share a brain cell?

OH yeah this defo feels like Arthur is being tested.

Ooooh, they're going full Smaug ...

sneak sneak sneak sneak

TO THE LEFT

TAKE THE CHUTE NOW Y'ALL

YEAH DAMN RIGHT WE DON'T KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING, JOHN.

Oooh, is this THE lighter?

"There must be something bigger than you and I."

John: Than you, maybe.

Madness has found us? This is its home?

These LINES, man.

I THOUGHT IT COULDN'T GET HERE. ANOTHER ROUTE? OH GOD.

WHAT IS IT WITH HORROR PODCASTS AND LIGHTERS.

This music is so good.

JOHN WHY WOULD YOU SAY "I MIGHT TAKE YOUR BODY FROM YOU".

Then again, the fact he's saying that and being honest ... hmmm.

AWWWW, HE TRUSTS HIM.

"You shouldn't. It'll be the death of you, Arthur."

And SCENE. WHAT A FINISH!