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#not my usual style but man if i had the energy to make more shit like this...

occamstfs · 3 months

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Diet Diaries

Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam

Monday March 21st-

Andy:

I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~

Steve:

Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home.

Tuesday March 22nd-

Andy:

My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.

Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~

Steve:

Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.

Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.

Wednesday March 23rd-

Andrew:

Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!

Steven:

That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.

Thursday March 24th-

Andrew:

Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!

OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!

Steven:

God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it.

It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.

Friday March 25th-

Steven:

Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.

I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..

Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~

Andrew:

Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.

Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)

Saturday March 26th-

Stevie:

Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-

Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass!

I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-

And Drew:

Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.

Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.

Sunday March 27th-

Stevie:

Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~

Drew:

My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #twinkification #jockification #straight to gay

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deadsetobsessions · 5 months

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Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

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wingedstatesmanlandturtle · 1 year

Text

Telling off Mineta

It was a training day. Everyone was excited to finally be able to use their quirks after long boring classes, being able to burn off some energy. Everyone was in the changing rooms getting ready and changing into their hero costumes. Making small talk with each other wondering about what exercise Aizawa and All Might would make them do.

“I hope we get paired up today Iida. Ive been working on my powers and I want to see how well it would measure up to your super move!” Midoriya slide on his suit while thinking about how exactly he would use his shoot style and ways he could improve it.

“Youve been practicing well Midoriya, but your not the only one. Everyone has gotten stronger” Iida said tying up his shoes tight. It would be horrible if he used his quirk and he ended up tripping.

Midoriya turning to grab something overhears Mineta spouting on about someone. Midoriya has learned to ignore Mineta's antics until he heard who exactly he was spouting about. You.

Even though you didn't even attend UA that didn't keep you safe from Mineta's perverted antics.

“You’ve seen Y/N right? I hope she comes to visit UA again. The skirts at her school are so short. Mmm~ I just want to-” His speech came to a sudden halt when he felt a deadly grip on his shoulders. Glancing up he saw Midoriya with a...smile? “Mineta ...do you mind not talking about Y/N like that? I dont think its really appropriate to do so” Even though Midoryas face seemed warm his tone and grip on Mineta's shoulder told a completely different story.

Mineta sucked in a breath “Y-Yeah of course. It was just a joke” His choice of word just agitated Midoryia more. “Yeah? Well the next time you decided to “Joke” about Y/N we will have a problem.” Mineta nodded his head quickly and Midoriya went back to Iida.

“You know what Iida. I wouldn't mind Mineta being my partner today either” He slammed his locker shut walking off.

“What happened to Midoriyas locker?” Kirishima asked Iida looking at the door hanging off a single hinge. “Mineta” Iida simply said closing his and heading out to join the rest of the class.

Everyone had settled in the cafeteria. Students bustling, utensils clattering, the mumbled tones of food-stuffed voices, it was utterly annoying to him. It's not the fact that it was loud, heck he could be louder than anyone in there. It was the catastrophe sound of it altogether.

“...it was so cool to see! I have to train 100x harder to be on their level!” Baukgo was with his usual group. Kirishima was telling some story of a Hero he saw that morning. He wasn't fully listening only picking up on parts here and there. “Dude you train all the time. You train just as hard not if harder than everyone else here” Denki responded. “Yeah man, you will reach the Hero level sooner than you know it” Sero chimed in.

Bakugo was mostly in his own head. Thinking about training today school work and other things, but something pulled him out of his thoughts. Someone. A voice stood out to him, an annoying one at that. Bakugos sudden grown snapped Kirishima out of his story. “What's wrong man? What-” Bakugo instantly stood from the table hands slapping down and shaking it.

Hands in his pocket he walks up to him. “So I was thinking me and you could you know...” Mineta's hand reaches out to you but before it makes contact a shadow looms over him. Mineta looks up behind him. Bakugos eyes were narrow and livid “What were you trying to do with my girl you fucking pervert” His voice was low and dangerous. “Katsuki...” you said calmly. He clasps his hands on Mineta's shoulder his hands starting to spark.

Mineta froze in place “Answer me when I ask you something shit face!” Burn marks starting to form on Mineta's shirt “OW! OW! N-NOTHING, I WASN'T TRYING TO DO ANYTHING” A sinister smirk came up on Bakugos face “You better pray we aren't paired up together for training. You won't live through it” He says letting go and walking towards you. “He didn't touch your right?” He asked you still slightly pissed off. You shook your head giving him a reassuring smile and placing a hand on his arm.

“I'm fine Katsuki. Thank you.” He smirks grabbing you and kissing you deeply so Mineta and everyone else knows that you are his and his only. Mineta kept his fat mouth shut for the rest of the day but was unlucky during the training session. He was with Recovery Girl for the next 2 days.

It was pretty quiet in the classroom. Mostly hushed voices and paper rustling. Everyone was just waiting for Aizawa to roll into class. Todoroki was just reviewing notes with you until you stepped out to use the bathroom.

Todoroki continued to review notes on his own until he could have sworn he heard your name. He glanced around the classroom looking until, there. He spotted Mineta talking to Kaminari and Sero in the back of the classroom. Gesturing towards the door you just walked out of with that gross look on his face that made Todoroki shrivel up in disgust.

“Did you see the way her legs looked? They're so slender and sexy”

“Bro I don't think you should-”

“And her bust! Oh man I was Y/N to just-”

An ice crystal soon shadowed the room. Mineta is displayed inside. “I strongly suggest you keep your perverse topic of conversation away from Y/N and all the other girls in class”

Todoroki said towards Mineta's frozen body before swiftly returning to his notes. “All right everyon-” Aizawa halted seeing the large spear of ice. Glancing towards Todoroki who innocently carries on with his studies. “What happened here?” He questioned everyone pointing at you as you coincidentally walk in. You stand there confused seeing an ice block and fingers pointed towards you slowly putting together what had happened.

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thegainingdesk · 6 months

Text

The Spider to the Fly

Statement of Oliver Barrett, dated 22/05/2023

The rent should have been the first red flag, I know that, but fuck me, have you seen the rents in Dublin these days? Worst than fucking London, if you can believe it. And there's this guy, right, four-story townhouse, twenty minute walk from my new job, says he just wants a tenant to make this place feel less empty, all for a grand a month, bills included. In this market! Too fucking right I didn't question it.

Well, I say a grand a month. One thousand euro and one cent, to be exact. The cent didn't bother me at the time, why the fuck would it? The man wants to add a cent to the rent, I'll give him a cent. Maybe it was to get over some threshold for something, or some tax dodge, or whatever, I didn't know and I didn't care. It was still €999.99 less than I'd be paying anywhere else in Dublin for some damn sight nicer digs. Now though, knowing what I know, after everything that… well, anyway, it bothers me more now. It feels significant. Like those old penny rents you hear about, or something. Something symbolic, and old.

But anyway, there was a cheap room going, in a good location, a good house, it was bloody better than anywhere else I've come across, and I was only in Dublin for a weekend before I properly moved to get everything sorted, so I didn't ask too many questions. So I go to this house, and it was gorgeous. We're talking Edwardian or Georgian or, I don't know, fancy. Some Upstairs Downstairs shit, like there were servants quarters and a coal cellar and whatever a scullery is. I didn't really think about it at the time - again, I'm not really in a position to ask questions - but you usually see houses like that in a row, right? Like terraced? This one was just there. On its own. On a nice street, don't get me wrong, but it was taller than any of the other houses, set back a little, and the style's all wrong. Maybe I thought the rest of the street had gotten destroyed in the Blitz or whatever they had in Dublin, it's not like I know anything about history outside of naming a couple of Henry the eighth's wives.

So I walked up to this great big, not quite right house, and I pulled this rope by the door and it fucking clanged. This wasn't some little ding dong electric doorbell, this was some fucking machinery. It felt like the house was vibrating from it. And while I'm reeling, this Victorian era sonic torture device still going off in my ears, the door swung open, too fast really, faster than you'd expect someone to get to the door, even if they were by it.

I don't know who I was expecting but this guy was hot. Like, something else. I'm talking movie star hot. Fuck, maybe he was a movie star, there's so many movies these days, right? He could have an Oscar for all I know, maybe that's how he could afford the house. I'm looking up at him, checking him out, and I don't have to look up at many people but this guy is real fucking tall, six-six maybe? And rail thin, but in a way that he makes work, he wasn't gaunt or anything just… angular. He had this jet black hair and his eyes were somehow even darker - at the time I probably would have said they were like ink or the night sky or something sappy, but looking back all I can think of is how shark's eyes look. I don't know, maybe that's just me projecting stuff after… well you know, after what happened. And he's just stood there, completely still, but, fuck, I really don't know if I can explain how fucking still this guy was. And that's not me looking back after the fact, at the time I was a bit creeped out. It was like looking at an optical illusion or something, like my eyes couldn't put together this guy that I'd just seen open a door in double-speed with how fucking still he was now. It was like someone had pasted a photo into the middle of my vision. And even though he was so fucking still, there was this, I don't know, this tension to him, like I could just see some energy there, ready to… fuck, I don't know, pounce. Like a tiger or… well, like a… but that's for later I guess.

Anyway, I'm checking this guy out, because he was sort of giving me the creeps, sure, but he was also fucking hot, and suddenly he wasn't so still anymore, and he’s looking me up and down and he's smiling and I'm starting to feel like this guy's checking me out right back. I don't know if you're gay, but there's this look, right, every gay guy knows it, this discrete little up and down, maybe with a little smirk and it just says, you know, "I'm gay, you're gay, let's fuck sometime". Now, I've had my share of guys in the past, I'm not about to be humble about it, I know that I'm hot myself, or, well I guess, you know, back then… but you know, I really was a great looking guy. Square fucking jaw, little dimple right in the middle of my chin, real broad shoulders, you know, I've always played rugby, and you could tell, because I had some decent fucking muscle on me, still do, probably, somewhere under all this fucking… whatever. The point is that I've had guys lining up for a chance to bounce on my dick, so I wasn't exactly shocked when guys checked me out but this guy, I mean, he was out of my league, you know? Out of everyone's league. It's insane to think guys that look like that would check anyone out.

So I was feeling sort of cocky, like maybe I could get more than a room out of this deal. And I know, don't shit where you eat, and definitely don't fuck your landlord, but fuck me this guy was hot, right? I couldn't pass up on this. And everyone in the fucking city's probably going for the room, it's not like I was likely to get it anyway, not with an advert that attractive. Sorry, what's that? Where did I see the advert? No, sorry, I can't quite… No, no, I don't think it was on a website, maybe a… Listen, I don't fucking remember, okay?

Anyway, so this guy smiled and he stepped back, and with his long legs he was all of a sudden right back in the shadows, and he let me in and the door closed behind me and all of a sudden it's just so dark. And I sort of stumbled around and I hear his voice, somewhere off down the corridor, and he said, and I remember this, because it's the first time I heard his voice, all soft and whispery, like I'm imagining it more than I'm hearing it, and there's this light, coming down the corridor from some door, but it's not like the hallway gets any brighter, it's just this beam of light for me to walk to. And he said, right, he says "Why don't you come into the parlour?" I remember that, exactly, because who the fuck says parlour, but it's in my head too, like it echoes in there. Anyway, so I walk towards this light, but it feels, I don't know, like I'm pushing through something, like- fuck, sorry, can we stop for a minute, I just need-

[Archivist's note: the recording was paused here at the subject's request. The subject was provided with a cup of tea and a member of the museum staff brought some food. After around five minutes, the subject was happy to continue the interview.]

Sorry, it's just, that's sort of where it feels like it all started. Walking through that hallway towards that voice and that light and that… that parlour. I'm not sure I really even remember what happened next. We spoke, for a while, the house rules and stuff I guess, when rent was due. I don't even remember agreeing to taking the room, it was just assumed. He certainly didn't give me a tour. He didn't even tell me his name, I don't think, not then anyway.

The next thing I knew I was back blinking in bright daylight, disorientated to be out of the dark and out of the warm, heady air of my new home. I flew back to London the next day, and spent the next few weeks preparing for my move. I received a contract in the post and found out my landlord's name - Damhán Alla. The contract was short, and was lacking a lot of the details I was expecting - nothing about a deposit, no bank details to transfer money to, none of the usual stuff. And what was there was odd - the contract was for one year and one day, no naked flames, the basement was out of bounds, I wasn't allowed to use certain spices or cleaning products, and I specifically wasn't allowed to do the hoovering myself. But like I said, if he wanted to run a tax dodge or whatever it was by renting me a cheap room, and if he was a little particular about his cleaning, or he's got some allergies, I was happy to help him out.

I turned up with all my worldly possessions in a few bulky bags - I'd either sold a lot of my stuff or sent it to my parents for storage, there was no realistic way I could haul much of anything to Ireland. My new landlord opened the door and was once again eye-achingly still for a moment or two, and then suddenly he's all charm, welcoming me in, taking my bags from me once I'm over the threshold, asking me how the journey was, if I wanted something to eat or drink.

I stuck my hand out. "It's Damhán, right?" I said. "I don't think we actually exchanged names last time." Thinking back, I don't even know how he knew my name and address to send me the contract.

His laugh was soft, but with a cruelty hiding somewhere deep in it. There was another sound there too, coming from his throat; a clicking maybe, or bubbling, and a hissing behind that. "Damhán," he corrected my pronunciation. "Not 'Damn-ham'."

"Down," I tried again. He shook his head and repeated it, slowly. "Dow-un," I said, doing my best to replicate him. He shrugged and gave a small nod - it would do, obviously.

I had the attic room - a whole floor really. In contrast to the rest of the house it was light and airy, with large windows and modern furniture. It had an en suite, a little kitchenette, even my own sitting area. I never needed to use the rest of the house if I didn't want to, but Damhán assured me from the shadows of the stairwell that I had the run of it, reminding me once again about the contract's stipulation not to go into the basement.

I got the full tour. The house was huge - I mean huge, you know. Bigger than it looked from the street, it must have just gone back and back. Loads of empty rooms, which makes sense, I guess; what are you supposed to fill that much space with? I remember at the time asking where his bedroom was, you know, just so I'm not stepping on his toes, and him avoiding the question. Thinking back I don't think I ever did figure that out. And the whole house was dark, curtains drawn in every room, hardly any lights. And cobwebs absolutely everywhere. And these cobwebs weren't dainty little strands, you know, they were thick. I'd occasionally walk through one and actually get stuck for a second or two. I remember thinking that if I had enough money to afford a house like that I'd hire a cleaner to come in a couple of times a week, but rich people are weird, right?

We made our way through the dark to the kitchen - me stumbling, my new landlord silent - where he started pulling out pots and pans to cook me lunch. I can't remember if I'd mentioned being hungry, but I suppose I must have been, anyway, after so long traveling.

Once he was set up, he led me through to the parlour where we spoke that first time, and told me to sit down. He left and I could hear him cooking in the kitchen.

He came back in after a while and placed a plate filled with bacon sandwiches in front of me. The bread was thickly sliced and freshly baked, the fat on the bacon was still sizzling slightly, and I could smell the butter before it was even close. There must have been three or four of them on the plate, each one piled with bacon and far too much for me to eat in one sitting usually. I remember salivating and licking my lips. Damhán licked his lips as well, and watched me tuck in.

Damhán wasn't much of a talker, I quickly learned, but he liked my company at meal times. Whenever I did try talking to him, he'd always end up laughing - with that hissing, bubbling, clicking sound beneath it. I learnt after a while to not make him laugh. He'd not eat with me, he'd just… watch me. Each breakfast and dinner time, and lunch on weekends, he'd call me into the parlour, place a pile of food in front of me and watch me eat it all. Always huge portions, always rich and fatty, always fucking incredible. Some of the best food I'd ever eaten, honestly. Every time I'd think, I'm never finishing that, y’know, always a proper pile of food, and then I'd take that first bite and… Look, it did taste amazing, it did, and I'm sure that was a part of it, but really… I don't know. I just ate. Like I entered a trance, or I was sleepwalking, or… I don't know, okay? All I know is he'd put food in front of me and watch me eat and then it was like, I don't know, like I knew I was eating but I didn't feel it. Like someone else was eating and I was watching them as well.

I started snacking at work as well. I've never been much of a snacker, got to watch my figure you know. Ha! And you can see for yourself how that turned out. But all of a sudden I'm just hungry all the time, I'm stashing chocolate and biscuits in my desk and in my coat, and all day I'm just mindlessly eating and- no, no, not like when he was watching, not that kind of mindless, just, you know, I didn’t ever think about it, it was just, I don't know, habit or instinct or automatic or whatever.

I didn't notice at first. The weight gain, I mean. God, I mean I must have noticed it, but I didn't notice it, you know? Like I could see it happening, I could see myself getting doughy and could see my gut puffing up and how my clothes weren't fitting right, but it's not like. I don't know. I thought with the move and the new job and living in a new country, it was just stress. Like, my weight goes up and down sometimes, this was just an up, there was nothing to notice.

But it kept on going up. And up. And at some point I'm bigger than I've ever been and my clothes aren't just fitting weird or too small, they're tight. Like, couple of sizes, bursting out, buttons not closing tight. I don't know what everyone at work thought. God, I must have been obscene. Actually, I think I, yeah, give me a moment, I've got a picture from around then, some work drinks thing… ah, yeah, here you go.

[Archivist’s note: the subject here showed a picture of himself in a small crowd, at a bar or similar. The subject looks to be around 250 lbs and wearing clothes several sizes too small, with skin showing where his shirt has ridden up, and shirt and trousers showing clear signs of the fabric straining. This picture, along with several others the subject has provided of themselves during their time in Ireland, can be found in the supplemental materials attached to this statement.]

I still didn't see it though. Like, you can see what I looked like, and, I mean, god those trousers! They must have killed, you know? And I can remember how painful they were to wear, remember noticing my body getting bigger, but my brain, I don’t know, just didn’t make the connection that I was actually getting fatter.

It was fast. Really fast. There was this woman in the office, Sarah, right, and she was maybe six months pregnant when I started. Well, obviously, couple of months later she's going on maternity and I looked over at her and I think its the first time I clocked how big I was getting because I realised my belly was bigger than hers. Even accounting for, you know, different heights and builds and stuff, my gut still looked bigger on my frame. One day just before she was due, she mentioned she's put on over two stone, and I remember people saying how much that is. I get home and I weighed myself for the first time since London. I was eighteen and a half stone. I'd put on about five stone since moving. I literally put on more than twice as much as a pregnant woman, and I did it in only a few months. That's mad, right? After that I tried to pay a bit more attention to my weight, step on some scales occasionally, but like I say, it was difficult. My brain just couldn't focus on the idea.

At some point in all of this, some point before I realised I put on more than Sarah I mean, Damhán one day just appeared in the parlour while I was eating some, I don't know, mound of potatoes and meat, and he just put this pile of clothes next to me. Didn't say a word, no mention of how it's because I'm bursting out of my own clothes or where they've come from, just puts them next to me then stands back to watch me eat.

I tried them on later and they fit perfectly. Well, I mean. They fit, anyway. I think I was so used to my clothes cutting in everywhere by that point that anything that was actually reasonably my size felt like it was tailor-made. They must have been expensive though. Real wool suits, tweed trousers. Not really my style, you know, bit old fashioned, but I couldn't deny they looked good, and by that point I was just happy I had something where I could get all the buttons to close.

I remember one time, not too long after, I think I was a bit over twenty stone at that point. I’d come back from the pub - I started drinking a lot, during it all. I think on some level I recognised how fucked up it all was and was just trying to… I dont know. Numb myself. Get out of the house. Whatever. I came back, took off my coat and shoes and whatever, get upstairs and collapsed. The next morning I had this hangover from hell, but at least I knew Damhán’s going to have sorted a slap up breakfast to help me through it. So I went downstairs and… god, sorry, it's just… right, no, I'm fine, I'm fine, I just need…

[Archivist's note: The recording was once again paused here, and the subject was given some cake and biscuits while he became settled.]

Sorry, where was I? Right. I went downstairs and he’s standing in the hallway with his palm outstretched. Completely still, like he's been there hours, just waiting for me to come down. He had a lighter in his hand - I must have nabbed it off someone in the smoking area, you know how it is on a night out, you just sort of pick these things up, don’t you? Anyway he’s stood there with this fucking lighter in his hand, just staring and staring at me as I come down the stairs, and he said “Your contract said no lighters”. That's it. No “good morning” or “how's the head” or whatever. “Your contract said no lighters.”

And I said, you know, sorry, won't happen again, few too many last night, as you do. And he doesn't move. Just stood there with his lighter and he just repeated himself, louder: “No lighters, no naked flames.” And I realise, this guy’s angry. Really, properly, fucking livid. He was almost shaking with it, you could hear it in his voice. His face wasn't really showing it, not really, a little bit around his mouth maybe, but his eyes were… fuck they were blank. This guy was furious about this lighter, probably waited for hours for me to wake up, and his eyes were just blank.

So I'm there realising just how badly I've fucked up, that he must have some phobia or something. I’d seen all the hobs and whatever were induction whatsits, but I'd not really thought about it until then, just thought, I don't know, fuck, that they were just induction hobs, didn't think to care. I started to apologise again, told him I understood. I don't know if he heard me. He just went on and on about lighters and fire, getting louder and louder all the time, until suddenly he just stops and turns around and walks away down the hall.

For a second he stopped outside the door to the basement and put his hand on the knob and turned to look at me. It was like he was sizing me up, looking me up and down. Clearly he decided against whatever he was planning because he carried on to the kitchen and just snapped at me to go sit in the parlour. I remember that moment really clearly. And to say it now, it's nothing, right? He went to open a door. Decided against it. But… fuck me, it felt important at the time. Like my whole life depended on whether or not he opened that door. Maybe it did.

Fifteen minutes later he walked in and just put two big frying pans down in front of me, one piled up with bacon, one filled with eggs and sausages. He walks away and comes back with a loaf of bread and a couple of packs of butter and throws those at me and says “eat”.

And there was a part of me that, you know, obviously wanted to ask about the deconstructed breakfast sandwich I've just been served, and a part of me that was just absolutely boggling at how much food there was, but then there was… I mean the biggest part of me, the bit that wins out, just says to eat.

So I ate. I reached out and I grabbed some bacon with my bare hands out of the frying pan and I just shoveled it in my mouth, and just carried on until it was all gone, all the while with Damhán stood watching. Then the eggs and sausages, just with my hands, you know, with the yolk just, fuck, just dribbling down my arms. When that was all gone I started taking bites out of the bread. Didn't slice it, didn't butter it, just ate until it was gone. Then Damhán just carried on watching me and I… I got that feeling. Like I was in a trance and the only thing I knew is that I had to eat. So I bit into the butter. Just took a great big bite out of it. And another, and another. Fuck me, I ate it like it was chocolate. And I was screaming at myself to stop, right? Obviously I didn't want to be eating butter by the block. But he didn't force me, or threaten me, or whatever, didn't even tell me to. I ate it. I did that. Me. And he just watched.

Once I was done he walked out and left me alone. I won't lie, I cried. Pretty fucking hard. My stomach hurt, I was covered in butter and grease and egg. I felt huge - I was huge. And I just felt so ashamed.

After that it all picked up pace. He never mentioned that day again, but meals got bigger. A lot bigger. Each one could have fed a rugby team. Occasionally he'd just put a block of butter on the side, like it was a fucking dessert or something. I always ate it. He never told me to. I just knew what I was supposed to do.

And I started swelling up. I was gaining fast beforehand, but this was, fuck me, I reckon it must have been over a pound a day, maybe two. Must have been, honestly, considering how fast it all was and how big I am now. Clothes just seemed constantly uncomfortable; even straight after he'd given me bigger ones, they'd not quite fit right. My back hurt all the time from hefting around this gut, my feet hurt, I got these stretch marks fucking everywhere. It was just a lot, all the time, and my body never got a chance to adjust.

It was around Christmas, I must have been, maybe twenty-six, twenty-seven stone - who knows honestly, it all went by so fast. I went to my work’s Christmas do. Fuck knows what they must have all thought of me - can you imagine? They hire me at thirteen, fourteen stone, and not even a year later I'm pushing double that and not showing any signs of stopping?

Anyway, the Christmas do. I'm wearing the biggest Christmas jumper that I could find in M&S, and even that's, you know, riding up on me, fits me like a sausage casing. People are being friendly, nicer than I'd be if I was watching someone inflate in front of me in real time, if I'm being honest. No jokes or anything; not to my face anyway. And someone asks if I'm going home for Christmas, and I say no, I'm staying in Dublin. They ask, you know, very reasonable questions; am I not seeing family, my friends back in London? And I couldn't answer them. I had no clue why I wasn't going back home.

Eventually someone asks will I be doing anything with my housemates. I said it's just me and the landlord, so they get to asking about him, you know, what's he like, is he alright, do I get on with him. And at some point I mention his name and a couple of people give me funny looks, one woman laughs at me. I assume I've just said it funny, you know how Irish names are. And someone tells me that Damhán Alla means spider in Irish. I sort of laugh and say I must be saying it wrong, I spell it out on a napkin and someone says, no, that’s definitely just ‘spider’. And they keep on asking questions; is it his first name, full name, do I know if it's a nickname, just finding it absolutely mad that the new fat English bloke at work is claiming his landlord’s full name is Spider.

It makes me feel weird. I think they eventually just accept it as a weird name, like celebrity parents calling their kids Apple or Moonbase, but it really stuck with me. And I didn't really talk the rest of the evening, I just sat thinking about the cobwebs, and how dark the house is, and how dark and empty his eyes were.

At some point I followed someone to the smoking area and made a point of nicking a lighter. I didn't know what it was supposed to do, what I'd use it for, but fuck it, if Damhán didn't want me to have a lighter then I'd make sure to have a lighter. I tucked it into my pocket, and from that point on I always had it hidden somewhere, slept with it under my pillow, even kept it in sight when I was having a shower.

Nothing changed for a while, not really. I had my lighter, and I was thinking about Damhán differently, but honestly, it's not like I'd trusted him for a good while anyway. I was still eating the insane piles of food he put in front of me, still getting fatter and fatter. This goes on for a few months, and remember, I reckon I'm putting on over a pound a day at this point - a few months is a good long time to be putting on that much weight. But, as I got bigger, I felt like Damhán started to act differently towards me. I could see him eyeing me up sometimes, like, I was some fruit he was waiting on to get ripe enough. He even asked me, a couple of times, how much I weighed. I'd always tell him, between my bites of butter. One time I said I wasn't sure and he followed me up to the bathroom and watched me weigh myself. I remember him laughing when I read off the weight - bubbling and clicking and hissing again, making my stomach turn - and telling me I was doing a good job.

One Sunday in March, breakfast was huge. I mean, I was pretty used to eating a lot of food by that point, but this was just a crazy amount of food. He just kept bringing out plates and plates of it, didn't even watch me like he usually did, just kept on going back into the kitchen to whip up more. Eventually the sausages and eggs turn into roast vegetables and chicken and gravy, and there's some steaks in there, a load of it was just ready meals still in the plastic, and it all just keeps coming and coming and I just keep eating and eating. Eventually it got dark and the food stopped coming. He never says what the fuck just happened or that it was over, he just stops coming in with trays of food. Anyway, at some point a bit after that I heard him go through the basement door, which, I mean, I should have realised then that something was about to happen. Because I've never been down there, obviously, but I also don't think I've ever seen him go down there either.

Anyway, I sit there burping and farting and digesting until I feel human enough to pull myself up, and fuck me I was used to putting on weight by that point, but I could literally feel all that sudden extra weight. And I stagger up the stairs, probably travelling about a foot a minute, really fucking sluggish, until I collapse into bed, in the same too small pyjamas I had on that morning, my gut fucking looming over me, not even enough strength to pull the covers over me, fuck knows if I’d even be able to reach over my gut to grab them in the first place, and I’m asleep within a few minutes.

At some point I woke up. I didn't think too much about it at first, because I'd started snoring pretty bad somewhere in the first hundred pounds or so, bad enough that I woke myself up with it sometimes. But eventually, I started to see a shape somewhere above me. Like, the room was pitch black, but there was a section above me that was even darker. And I felt something drop onto my face, like something wet and slimy. I reach over to turn my light on and there's Damhán leaning over me, with his mouth wide open, long lines of saliva falling down onto me.

And his teeth were, fuck, I don't know if I'd ever seen his teeth before. Like, maybe he never opened his mouth when he spoke? Or maybe it was the same as how I didn't think about how much I ate or how big I was getting and he just made me not notice them, but they were… fuck me. His mouth was full of these huge, sharp, black fangs.

And even though he had his mouth wide open, wider than I've ever seen any human ever open their mouth, it sort of felt like he was smiling. Like this sadistic, shit-eating smile.

I backed away, as best as I could, what with my being the size of a small hatchback and the fact that he was close enough that even a normal sized person wouldn't be able to really put that much space between him and them, never mind me with my gut almost touching him. I realised that I was covered in cobwebs, thick ones, so that I had to pull them off as I went. And he laughed. His mouth didn't move, but he laughed, and it was so much worse than any other time I'd heard. It was that same gurgling, hissing, clicking sound, but it was like he wasn't bothering to cover it up anymore. I felt like throwing up.

I reached under my pillow and I grabbed my lighter and held it up to him, lit. It seems mad really, how he reacted to it. A tiny little flame like that, and that fucking monster cowered from it like I was holding a gun up to his head. I’m not particularly maneuverable, these days, so it was a struggle, but I made sure as fuck to keep that little flame between him and me at all times as I heaved myself out of bed.

I backed towards the door, and I think he panicked that I was going to get away because he lunged at me and… fuck. He went up like he was covered in petrol. The flame barely touched him. And he started going around the room, bumping into things, and they went up as well.

I couldn't exactly run, but I turned around and I lumbered out of there as quickly as I could. At one point I turned round and the whole landing had gone up behind me. I couldn't believe how fast it was all burning. I think it was all the cobwebs.

I got downstairs, with my heart pounding, and I turned around one last time to see the basement door open. I heard this clicking and gurgling, like when Damhán laughed, and these legs came out round the door, like spiders’ legs but huge. Six, eight feet long maybe. I didn't wait to see whatever they were attached to. I barrelled the door down, and I think it came off its hinges - this much weight will do that.

A neighbour must have rung 999, because the emergency services got there pretty sharpish. The paramedics put one of those foil blanket things awkwardly over my shoulders, like it was supposed to cover me up, and I got given a cup of tea and sat in an ambulance for a bit, then got taken to the police station for some questioning. I lied, obviously. Just told them I woke up when I heard the fire alarm and that's all I knew. I mean, what was I supposed to tell them? I set fire to my surprisingly flammable landlord because he was fattening me up to feed to a spider god he kept in the basement? Is that… I mean, do you think that's what it was? No, no, I suppose you don't know any more than me.

Someone at the station must have picked something up about why I wasn't giving any details, or they had additional information about the house or something, because someone mentioned I should give you guys a call. That you've smoothed over cases before where some of the details have been, I don't know, weird.

And I guess I thought you might be able to give me some answers. If you've seen anything similar, I mean. Like why did he have to make me so fat? Okay, you've got a spider-thing in your basement and you want to make sure its meals are nice and big and nutritious, but then why take so long? Just feed it a normal-sized person a week, not, fuck, not the fattest person you’ve ever seen after a year.

No. No, I suppose you haven't. Sorry, I just. Yeah.

I've been to a doctor about the weight. They didn't even have any scales that could weigh me, they had to refer me to a specialist who had some bariatric scale things. Fucking four-hundred and eighty something pounds. Thirty-five stone, or near enough. Have you ever even seen someone that big? Ha, I suppose you have now, yeah. Anyway, yeah, they've got me on some special weight loss regime, you know, restricted calories, physical therapy which is basically just walking for ten minutes until I'm knackered. I need to lose a load of weight before they can even talk about surgery.

That's it, I guess. Will you- yeah, no sorry, you've got your own procedures and stuff. Yeah, I can see myself back to reception. I don't suppose you have any more of those biscuits, do you?

[Statement ends.

Final archivist's notes, dated 05/11/23: The details of Mr Barrett’s statement have been verified as far as possible. There is a record of his move to and employment in Dublin, and while there is not a record of his renting with Mr Alla, there is a record of the existence of a building matching Mr Barrett’s description at the address provided and of the fire Mr Barrett described [see supplemental materials].

There are 17 reports of missing persons logged in Dublin where the missing person had gained a significant amount of weight prior to their disappearance, going back to 1909.

The name Damhán Alla appears in four previous statements, dating back to 1907. We have added the name as a searchable tag to these statements, although none seem to deal directly with him.

In recent follow up interviews with Mr Barrett's family, friends and doctors, it would seem that his weight loss plan has been unsuccessful, and he has gained somewhat more weight since moving back to London. His family and friends have noted that he seems in good spirits, despite his rather unique trauma and ongoing circumstances. His father made a mention of a new hobby - a newfound interest in spiders.]

#weight gain #gaining fiction #gainer fiction #gainer story #weight gain story #male weight gain #wg story #weight gain fiction #the spider to the fly #ive had lots of people mention that whst they like about my stories is how sweet they are #lol anyway here's this #horror fiction

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captainpricelover · 1 year

Text

Spiderdilf

Peter b. Parker x f!reader

Word count - 2k

Warnings: Profanity, large age gap(18-39) infidelity. Smut!!! P in v sex. Slightly rough sex, Peter cheats on MJ with Mayday’s babysitter

Names used: Angel, Doll

You babysit part-time to help pay for tuition but also lashes and nails. I mean who isn’t a high-maintenance girly nowadays? This isn’t your first babysitting job but it is your hardest. The child you babysit, Mayday is very special she is basically Spiderman but that isn't the hardest part of this job, the hardest thing is probably the thing in her dad's pants every time he sees you.

You never thought you would spend 20 minutes attempting to get Mayday down safely from the ceiling, but here you are. The chair under you wobbles as you stretch your limbs trying to grab the ginger child. Peter walks in, and the noise from the front door startles you, causing you to lose your balance. Mayday finally decides that she's bored of the ceiling and jumps down into your arms. All this causes you to lose your balance, you squeeze your eyes shut and tighten your grip on Mayday bracing for contact with a hardwood floor. But it never happens instead, you find yourself being carried bridal style by Peter.

“Don’t worry I got you, kiddo,” He smiles while squeezing your thigh before placing you down on the floor and taking Mayday from you. Peter’s hair is slightly messy, and the jacket from his suit is tossed over his shoulder while his tie hangs loose around his neck.

“Where’s MJ?” You ask slightly tilting your head.

“Work emergency,” He laughs “Taste of my own medicine I guess, I’m the one usually running off halfway through the date due to work,”

“Was your date still good?”

“The food was delicious, got some in a box in the car, you can snack on while I drive you home if you want to wait in the car. I'll be there in a few minutes,”

“I mean you paid me for a couple more hours so I don’t mind helping you put her to sleep and cleaning with the uh-mess”

The house was a state, Mayday’s toys are scattered everywhere, and her costumes completely cover the sofa, crayons on the walls and even the ceiling. It wasn’t a one-person job barely a two-person job but hopefully, you and Peter could make it work.

“It's also partially my fault your house is like this, so I’ll feel guilty if you make me go now”

“Don’t blame yourself, Mayday is a handful. The number of babysitters who quit within the first few minutes”

“Minutes?” You laugh

“Sometimes its seconds, Mayday is pretty picky but she seems to like you,”

Neither of you has noticed the fact that she's fast asleep in Peter’s arms but when you do your conversation stops, slowly down both of your movements making sure not to make any noise that would wake Mayday up. Peters nods his head, signalling that he's off upstairs. You smile before heading over to the lounge as you begin picking up Maydays toys and putting them in a basket. A few minutes pass before you hear Peter walking down the stairs but he doesn’t come into the lounge instead you hear the front door open. Shit. There's probably a spider-man related emergency, you carry on cleaning but are surprised when Peter comes back through the front door, carrying his leftovers in a white plastic bag

“You hungry?” He smiles slightly lifting the plastic higher into the air

“A little,” To be honest you were staved looking after Mayday drains all the energy out of you.

Peter puts the food in the microwave before pushing some newspapers and files into a pile, clearing a space for you to sit on his island. You happily sit on one of the stools as the microwaves bing. He takes the food before sitting on the stool next to yours, placing the food in between the both of you. You admire the domesticity of the scene, you never had a man cook for you before (Microwaving food is 100% what Peter considers cooking) There's always been a feeling of admiration for Peter, but seeing him now and being alone in his presence, you’re starting to believe you might have some actual feelings for him.

“So, you got a boyfriend?” Peter asks trying to make small talk

“Uh- no I don’t” You take a bite of leftover steak

“Good,”

“Good?”

“I-I mean,” He stutters for a few seconds “It's good because I would feel guilty for keeping you here when you could be spending time with him as well. Any reason don’t you have?”

“I guess I’ve never met the right, all the guys at my school are right dickheads,” He cocks an eyebrow “What? I bet you were the same in school?”

“Oh god no I was a right nerd in high school. I would never even talk to a girl as pretty as you, let alone be mean to one,” He laughs and you join in

“I could never see you being a nerd with the whole Spiderman shebang and the whole dilf thing you got going on”

“Dilf?”

“You don’t know what a dilf is?”

“I know what a milf is, so I’m going to guess it has a similar meaning.

You carry on the small talk while you both finish the leftovers. He entertains you with stories about him taking down villains and you get him up to date with all the latest school drama. The rest of the chores are split up between the two of you. Peter’s job is to clean the drawing on the ceiling. A job that's impossible for you since you lack any superpowers. You end up washing the dishes. The conversation between the two of you has died down so you put in some AirPods and listen to music. While scrubbing some stubborn stain you feel a pair of rough hands latch on to you, it's Peter. He gently guides you to the side so he can access the cupboard under the sink. His touch sends an eclectic shock through your entire body, especially to your lower abdomen where you can already feel pressure starting to form. You take out one pod and look up at Peter

“Sorry, didn’t want to disturb you listening to your tunes” He laughs his hands still on your hips

“Oh no, it's fine. You just startled me,”

“Are you tense? It seems that I’m always scaring you. Something on your mind? I’m always here if you need to talk, angel,”

Your heart skips a head at the new nickname he has given you, you stutter out some appreciative nonsense before he lets go of your hips, and your body craves his touch. It was only a small dose but now your already addicted. He squats down and grabs some supplies before shooting a web at the ceiling and launching himself at it to continue cleaning.

Half an hour passes and the house is completely spotless. No evidence of Mayday’s wild escapades is left. Peters decides to head inside the panty to grab a sweet treat to congratulate him on a job well done. You follow him. The pressure inside your lower abdomen has gotten stronger over time instead of going away, so you are most likely blinded by lust when you decide to ask him

“Did you really mean it when you said I was pretty?” You question while leaning against the frame of the entrance to the pantry

“Of course, I did, your gorgeous,” He smiles as a million impure thoughts appear in his mind “But you’re too young for me angel,” He sighs but before you could feel any sense of rejection his lips crash into yours. His hand attached itself to your hair at the crown of your head while the other one finds its way up your baby tee and being to fondle your breast. He pushes you against the wall, deepening the kiss but as quickly as he begins kissing you he ends it.

“Oh god angel, shit I’m so sorry,” He apologised as he let go of your hair “I don’t know what came over me. I-”

He is about to remove his hand from your breast when you interrupt him

“I liked it,” You smile

This time, its Peter who is shocked

“I want you Peter,” You confess and it sets this man off like a bomb. His hands are back on your body exploring every crevice he can over your clothes. You return the favour as you begin fiddling with his belt, it takes a few seconds but you finally undo the belt and his zipper. Before you could pull his bulge out of his boxers he start humping himself against your hand

“Fuck angel you are so perfect!” He whispers in your ear

He pulls frantically at your pair of denim shorts, desperately attempting to get them off. It takes a few tugs before he figures out he needed to undo the button but when he does your shorts are off in one quick movement. His middle and index fingers quickly find themselves inside your panties as Peters uses his digits to explore your folds.

“Fuck me, doll. How are you this wet, I have barely even touched you”

You manage to help his cock escape its confinement you were shocked at the size. How was he hiding this thing under his Spider-Man suit? Before you could ask him the question yourself, he's picked you up. Instinctively you wrap your legs around his waist as his fingers dig into your thighs.

“Are you sure that you want this?” He asks as he lines up his tip with your entrance. You nod.

“Words, darling.”

“Please, Peter!” You practically beg

With that, he does a singular powerful thrust into you making sure that his entire shaft entire you on the first time. After a few seconds to make sure that you’ve adjusted to his size he begins to thrust at a fast pace. Your brain is scrambled all you can let out is a set of incoherent moans.

He moves one of his arms to the small of your back to make sure you are steady as his lips meet yours again and you start a hungry kiss. His lips interlock yours perfectly, he's a pro at this which makes up for your lack of experience.

Each of his thrusts is more powerful than the last. This man is fucking you like there's no tomorrow. He's needy too which makes you wonder about his current bedroom life. I mean if you were MJ you would never leave your martial bed. He lifts you up slightly which changes the game completely as every time his cock enters and leaves, he hits your g spot. You wrap one of your arms around his neck for extra support as you use the other to rub your clit.

After a few minutes of thrusting, you are close to reaching your orgasm, Peter knows this. His spider senses are going crazy. He slows down his movements, making sure to drag out the amount of time his cock spends touching your g-spots with drives you over the edge. You cum almost instantly after he does this. Your walls clench around him getting him closer to reaching his high when the front door opens, It's MJ. Shit!

Peter tightens his hold on you as he ploughs into you with a god-like speed trying to finally get his release. He moves one of his hands over your mouth attempting to quiet down your moans so that MJ won't hear. You listen closely as you hear her taking off her shoes. His movements are rougher. She enters the lounge and Peter finally cum, moving the hand which was located on the small of your back to the crown on your head as he sets you on the ground. He pets your hair gently as he gives you a quick peck before pulling his pants up and going to greet/distract his wife, giving you enough time to make yourself look presentable and to pretend to be preoccupied with something.

#peter b parker x reader #peter b parker #into the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #atsv smut #atsv fic #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv spoilers #spiderverse spoilers #peter parker #mayday parker #peter x mj

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rreskk · 3 months

Text

Things to consider about Trevor and his character:

Everything is draining me but I got some energy for some “consider” factors :)

-We all know Trevor is maths smart and very intelligent. He is no idiot. He has some serious gut intuition and, despite being so undermined, his intelligence is extremely high through knowledge and street-smarts. However, I’ve noticed low literacy development from his text messages and subtle handwritten notes around his safe houses and liquor store. Although he speaks in metaphors and riddles, I can only imagine he may suffer from slight dyslexia. Whether or not that’s him being lazy (most likely), but it would make sense considering his broken education and temperaments. It’s something to consider and suits his character!

-Also consider the fact that maybe, due to his drug and substance use, his height shortened from over the years. He may be 6’1 now but before he fell into the addiction loop, he could have been possibly taller. Like 6’2, maybe a bit taller? Shit like that happens when you grow older with such addictions.

-Trevor mentioned to Michael before that he’s “in the best shape” of his life. This makes me all giggly because — as a North Yankton slut — this basically implies that he was a bigger boy before Los Santos. Man had some fat on him, and his ID from 2004 (cos of his old picture) says his weight initially was 206. A BIG boy. Need to serve him on a golden platter.

-The biggest question in my mind: who introduced him to helicopters and planes. Trevor joined the military with talent of flying. He had his cargo-plane side-job before meeting Mikey in the Midwest, where they met. This brings to think about how exactly he managed to get hands on a plane in the first place…

-Think about his life-style, and think about how flexible his sexuality would’ve been before the professional criminality happened — or just after it started. His ability without the drugs washing the chances of impregnating. His likeness of sex and intimacy. Expect him to have unknown children roaming the states with his genes and DNA.

-He mentioned doing only “petty” crimes before Michael, meaning that he probably hadn’t of killed a human person. (Unless I’m wrong). Petty crimes, for those who don’t know, includes offences like shoplifting, disorderly conduct, common assaults (usually drunk). Real petty crimes without purpose or intent. This meant that Trevor was weirdly innocent, if we are comparing him to present Trevor. With his anger issues as well. Without Michael, he would’ve had a relatively different life with a CHANCE to reparate himself and become something more.

-Following this, consider that it’s not all Michael’s fault that his criminality and incline in mental health was partially responsible for his discharge of the airforce. We all know how Trevor felt about it, I shouldn’t have to explain how distraught he was about it.

-Also consider Trevor and Michael fucking :)

#grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta 5 #trevor gta #grand theft auto v #Michael de santa #Michael townley #my headcanons #my writing #north Yankton #gta trevor #grand theft v

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insidereagan · 2 years

Text

the gang (+ jr and a.b)’s ideal date

(inside job) sorry if anyone’s done this before haha I just had this idea

reagan:

despite her being like my main crush/f/o, she was probably the hardest to do but I feel like it would really depend on her mood. she’d either want to go to a museum (“we both know museums are the sexiest places on Earth!”) or just chilling at home watching tv.

if you two go to a museum, she’d probably really enjoy holding your hand while you walk around. physical touch is more bearable for her when she’s engaging in her special interests or doing something she enjoys.

she also doesn’t watch a lot of tv, so when you’re watching stuff with her, she usually lets you pick what to watch. I think she’d enjoy things like physiological horror. (same reagan, same)

restaurants are a nightmare tho. like she gets so stressed and overwhelmed as it’s loud, and she really struggles to be herself in busy environments, especially when eating.

if she’s eating a comfort food though, she can manage!!

you also bond when ur in the car together! it sounds stupid, but she probably ends up talking about smth rlly random, and you two talk about it for hours.

it could just start off with smth like “hey,, y/n, is a hotdog a sandwich?”

and ya’ll most likely lightheartedly argue about it for ages.

she doesn’t say it a lot, but she really loves and appreciates spending time with you.

brett:

OH <33 BRETT’S SUCH A SUCKER FOR SIMPLE CUTE DATES

like take him on a picnic in the woods (he’d totally make you and him matching flower crowns)

also taking him to still valley and having an 80s style date, it would make him cry :((( /pos

speaking of, after a long day of work, pls cuddle him on the couch and watch the growing years with him <333

it would make his year

just anything soft & simple would just make brett melt :( like reagan he finds big dates v overwhelming

but if there was anywhere in particular he wanted to go, but couldn’t because he was so anxious, get the man a fidget toy to fiddle with.

gigi:

this was quite hard, but y’know those photoshoot places you can go to with pretty backgrounds, where you take photos? yea, she’d like those. then taking you to a fancy restaurant after.

also movie nights where you cuddle on the couch watching shit and she points out the subliminal messages in them.

smth like “hey, y/n, did you know that Hwang represents the shadow gouvernment?”

also I think as a treat, maybe once a month, if you’re comfortable enough, she’d take you to a club!

you’d dance together and it’s a v nice experience.

very big on double dates. idk why, she just gives that vibe.

also CLOTHES SHOPPING. like you two will go to the store, try on different clothes, and she WILL compliment you.

glenn:

again i find mr. dolphman hard to write so bear with me

my guy would melt if you took him to like an raf museum? like just him explaining all the parts of the plane, you not really understanding, but just saying “that’s lovely, dear,”

also classic dates! fancy restaurants, cinema, etc etc.

i think he’d be really into hearty food, like lasagne.

he’d also be obsessed with surprising you with food.

andre:

CONCERTS.

idk why, he’s just the type of guy to take you to a lot of concerts. he really enjoys high-energy experiences with you like that.

also going to get fast food at 3am. like my dude would randomly text you at 3:00 in the morning like “hey babe, wanna get mcdonalds?”

like gigi, he’d take you to clubs. but not as a treat like gigi, i mean like every 2 weeks.

myc:

y’know those 50’s style diners? yea. that’s myc’s shit.

also staying in and having deep conversations while jazz music plays on his record player.

just v classic, traditional dates. any fancy restaurant he will love.

im sorry i don’t have more for him 😭

jr:

GO GOLFING WITH HIM

pls he’d love that :((

like crazy golf specifically? just for fun

also he’d take you to fancy restaurants.

when I say fancy, I mean over £50 just for starters.

let him spoil u his love language is gift giving,

robotus/alpha beta

just snuggling up on the sofa, ordering takeout and watching friends.

he’d die <333

i can just imagine him melting into your touch like <33 he feels so fucking loved??

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brights-place · 11 months

Note

hii!! Can i request general headcanons with Laughing Jack and Candy Pop? (Creepypasta) thank you <33

Never ever safe when with us!

Pairings: Laughing Jack, and Candy Pop

A/N: OMG OMG THANK YOU I LOVE THOSE TWO SO MUCHHHH one of my top 3 (*´ー｀*)

Laughing Jack

- He allows Sally to paint his claws sometimes but gets rid of them before a kill.

- He tries to act sweet with the creepypasta kids but due to his experience with Issac he seems to be creepy. Took the kids awhile to try get to know him more.

- Thrives on pranks

- Bipolar

- gets into some arguments with Kageko on who’s the better dressed in Black and white…

- Jill and ChessMaster always glance at eachother before recording the scene.

- He likes to watch Some creepypasta sleep since He dosen’t need to He finds it weird.

- When you came to the mansion he started to poke you whenever you where sleeping

- LJ takes particular interest to befriend most of the children of the slender mansion trying his best but when it comes to his victims it’s a whole diffrent story.

- like to talk about his victims and how he kills them.

- Very Childish

- He dosen’t understand emotions that well.

- When he’s angered He’s either very creepy or he flips onto the floor and throws a tantrum like a child due to the fact he had been surrounded by kids his whole existence

- These temper tantrums is how he thinks how people should be upset Lora do people get hurt though.

- about 7’3-8’0 Mans Lanky

- Hates being left alone, forgotten or ignored he would throw a huge fit.

- Slender created a rule to never touch the music box until it changes spots.

- LJ use to find it comfortable to be in the box at first when entering the mansion and rarely would come out unless he went out to do his little Adventures.

- Likes to dress up

- He smacks the shit out of anybody who comments on why he wore a dress around the place.

- “You Ugly Brat I look fashionable”

- He dosen’t swear much he uses words such as ‘Butt hole’ and ‘Poop Brain’ as insults unless he’s really pissed then he’s going to start cussing like there’s no tomorrow.

- Enjoy Listening to Classics music or HyperPop music he’s open to any.

- Very sharp teeth

- He has poisoned sweets in his left pocket and Non-poisoned in his right

- He dosen’t know his lefts and rights so sometimes he gives Somebody a poisoned one by accident.

- Doctor smiley hates LJ for the amount of times he gave Toby, Sally, and Zero poisoned candy by accident.

- purposely trips over Candypop once for stealing his sweets.

- Likes to mimic the personality of his new “owners” (aka his victims)

- Very stretchable and can jump super high

- He Likes to Hum to pop goes the weasel multiple times

- You Can Hear him from a mile away because of his humming of the song.

Candy Pop

- Best friends with Nathan the Nobody

- Gossiping King He knows everything going on.

- Likes to torment his victims

- He’s an Incubus, once a genyr before possessed by Night Terrors

- Man’s in his 6000’s

- Loves pranks like LJ but takes them very far

- He Likes to make bets with his sister and Nathan

- Him and Candy Cane like to switch up their outfits sometimes giving each-other little tips.

- Nightmares Whenever

- Cocky Asshole

- Can’t be in the human world physically for a very long time

- Loves every genre of music

- He has 3000 kids yet He dosen’t Care for them though (MF HAS CHILDREN 😭)

- Loves to fuck around with Night Terror

- Loves draining the energy and torturing his victims

- Most do his victims have mental illnesses cause he finds it funny to see their reactions and thinks it’s much easier to toy with them.

- master manipulator

- doesn’t kill the victims himself drives them off the edge if you know what I mean

- Likes to try different styles of clown makeup but always sticks to his usual look

- Has step by step guide for his hair

- he is kind of similar to Slender-man and puppeteer though if he gets enough energy to use in this reality it will bring chaos.

- uses his hammer when he REALLY needs it or deems it Useful for his situation

- found a child too annoying he claimed that “The child had something on him I had to smack it with something!”

- His laughs are psychotic

- Friends with laughing Jack due to the fact both of them could of been created by the same guardian.

- Demi-Boy

- Likes to hangout with Jason sometimes.

- gets pissed very easily

- Can Kill you in dreams or In real life You are not safe.

- He Acts like your bestfriend before it gets too much for you to drive you into madness.

- He pierced his ears.

- On his activities He dosen’t have allies nor help he works alone.

- His candy is filled with Melatonin so his victims sleep quicker

- When you arrived in the mansion he tried to kill you in your sleep… you guys made bracelets in your dream instead.

- Damages anything in his path whenever he is angered

- Large mood swings

- Night Terror always has some problems and he likes to move night terror somewhere else just to Piss him off which always works.

- People in the mansion where informed to never be vulnerable around Candypop.

- dosen’t like to admit that he is amazing at cooking and sewing.

- likes to show off his tricks

- The bells on his collar are loud along with the bells on his wrists and shoes but he can quiet them down in a second when he wants to.

- Get Jump-scared whenever he is around cause he will pop up anywhere anytime

#fluff #gore lover #x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta lj #creepypasta candy pop #creepypasta headcannons #headcannons #slenderman #HeadcannonsYayy #What am I doing with my life?#creepypasta CandyCane #clowns #Jesters

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 1 year

Note

Hey! Could you do something about dating bill having Lorelai Gilmore's personality? Making jokes all the time, DRAMATIC and coffee loving? I need that and I love your writing!!!❤😭🛐

(sorry English is not my first language)

(Hello! Aw, thank you for reading my shit and liking my writing! And damn, you probably speak English better than me. Anyways, enjoy! P.S, I just went off ur description bc I have no idea who Lorelai Gilmore is 😭)

Lorelai Gilmore Personality Reader

You match Bills personality perfectly

It's like the same exact person met the one for them

And it's an exact replica!!

You guys may not have the same style, but man can you guys be entertaining

You guys cannot take shit seriously

You guys are constantly cracking jokes and making the band laugh

You guys have endless amounts of energy

You drink a lot of coffee and I think so does Bill

He has your usual order engraved in his head

Or he knows how to make yours the exact way you like it

And you're dramatic as he is!

Be that with outfits, personality, how you are on stage or just how you are

You guys are big and bold together

He admires that you don't care that people think you're too dramatic

You're in a fucking band that's more famous than they ever could, you can be as dramatic as you want

That concert with the water?

You were having the time of your life in it and doing whatever the hell you wanted as Bill did the same with you

You can't not make a joke out of everything

Sometimes it's downright inappropriate

Especially if you have dark humour like me

He has to hold on laughs so much in interviews he thinks he might suffocate

You and him egg on each other

You guys are trying to outdo the other all the time with your dramatic acts

Especially when saying you love each other or showing you love each other

You guys can scream it and throw shit at each other to prove your dramatic love

Seriously, you guys worry people

Sometimes you're scary off coffee

Bill hides from you if you're tired and haven't had any

The band fears for their life when you're like that

Georg barely made it out alive

Bill always does

He's Bill

#bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel georg #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel

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1moreoffkeyanthem · 1 month

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17. talk about your writing and editing process <3

Man apparently I’m allergic to checking my inbox but HEY better late than never my love!

So my process, if you can even call it that, is chaotic as FUCK!!! I stare off into space writing it mentally first, type all my bullshit in my notes app like a heathen, don’t proofread, drop unsolicited personal lore in the notes, all that. Gonna use TWITR as an example again btw

I’ve said it before, but The Webs In The Rafters is based on a WHACK ASS DREAM I HAD. specifically chapter 17 and the climax of the story. Like I was the Kenny character, Sansa the dog was telepathically speaking in my mind, there were piles of cuddling cats everywhere, the sound of helicopter blades and a trail of spiders in the hay. I woke up like bro what the hell this is a story right here and I went from there. And in fleshing out the plot, pinning the story beats, the time I was writing it was PERFECT TIMING. Because I had a six hour drive to make for a friend’s wedding. And what did my insane ass do? I FUCKING RAWDAWGED that drive. No music, no audiobook, just silent highways and plotting TWITR. By the time I got home I had a very clear idea of where I was going with the story that at that point was only a few set up chapters and a title.

Speaking of titles, a lot of the time I have titles before I have plot, which is kinda weird bc I know a lot of people struggle with titles, but that’s one of the first things that comes to me. Especially with my one shots, like my kysterion fic All The Punches That I’ve Thrown. That lyric popped into my head and a fic idea with it. Song lyrics inspire a LOT of ideas for me.

So does art. Like with In The Truly Gruesome, I saw a drawing emilyartstudios did of Stan and Shelley working a booth for Tegrity at a fair and I was like YO WHAT IF I FUCKED THIS UP AND STUCK ZOMBIE ALIENS IN THERE lmfao. And ofc, the OrangeJuiceVerse wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t seen foxydodo’s art of basketball player Kyle and mascot Stan.

While oneshots come together pretty fast for me usually, being written out in my head to be typed out in the course of a day (back in the days of janitor Riley bored as shit at work and having the time and energy for that lol), multichapters are require more thought structurally. So what I like to do with a multichap:

Think of it in three acts. In script writing, there’s something called the “page 12 event”, the event that gets the plot rolling near the beginning of the film. And I like to stick an event like that at the end of chapter 1 of my stuff a lot of the time, like ITTG and uhhhh yeeting Stan into a mineshaft after we find out the boys are being chased by monsters (jesus what is wrong with me). What I’m getting at: I like to know where my beginning middle and end are, how the characters are feeling at each step, how their relationships change, all that. And a lot of the time I think of the end before I do the middle or beginning tbh. Like I said, chaos. I think of a random scenario (as we know usually someone is hurt and getting taken care of bc I’m fucking evil and that’s where my brain goes constantly), hence the WhumpShots.

And I do primarily operate in WhumpShots. I picture a scene with a character getting their injuries tended, sick and dizzy but having a friend or loved one at their side, etc, and BAM that scene becomes a oneshot. Even the REALLY short ones, like the sot bunny I did last summer called So Only Say My Name, was about 700 words and one sequence of events. That kind of to the point structure comes easy to me, which is why I loved doing Style Week so much; new oneshot prompt every day. And while I don’t usually proofread after I finish a work, I edit as I go, sometimes post random lines on here or send a screenshot to the R.A.N.T. homies (I’ve definitely done this more as of late, a habit from when I attempted writing smut for the first time and would send neen a screenshot all “IS THIS CRINGE?!?” lmfao I love the Idea Trampoline tho). And I can’t spell so autocorrect is fr my saving grace unless it betrays me. Off the top of my head I can think of 3 words in 3 separate fics that I need to fix but am simply not going to bc that requires effort and oh fuckin well.

And I say that, but I may be lax about the more fiddly stuff but I care SO much about the big picture. Like “does this convey the feelings I want it to? Is this going to be a bright spot in someone’s day? Is the vibe I want there?” That’s my priority. If I can leave an impact on a reader, entertain them, make them smile, that’s what matters to me.

Jesus sorry this was a convoluted answer lmao it’s 3 in the morning and I woke up all “hey I should actually check my inbox” and here we are

Thank u for asking abt my chaos melda tâe

#asks #why is my ‘process’ just ‘hey what if I stick Stan in an avalanche and he has to keep Kyle calm enough to take care of him’#insanity #south park #my shit #also I’m awful at answering asks sorry yall

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catchyhuh · 8 months

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CAT PERSON OR DOG PERSON!!

I KNOW IT’S TOUGH DECIDING! handled by the usual stereotypical view of dogs and cats in movies combined with the brief stint i had working at an animal shelter

lupin: lover of all animals. except that one he doesnt like. and that other one. and thYknow what let's just say lover of most animals. he likes both for wildly different reasons. cats are more selfsustaining, so he doesnt have to worry about them as much, but dogs match his playful upbeat energy better, so... if he had to OWN one he'd pick a cat, if he had to spend time with one for a few hours, dog

jigen: you know he might initially strike you as a cat person because. look at him. but he's big on dogs, specifically old, sighs all the time exasperated dogs. who knows why right. epitome of "we can get a dog but im not gonna like the damn thing" (falls asleep with the dog on his chest) casual enjoyer of cats. grumbles when they get under his feet and almost trip him but that’s just life man!!

fujiko: AGAIN YOU'D THINK A CAT PERSON but as evidenced by. certain things in her life she LOVES unthinking loyalty. and nothing says unthinking loyalty like a big, fluffy, happy dog. iirc when she got a shit ton of cash at one point in part 2 one of the first things she did was get a huge ass saint bernard. that said she's human and loves how pretty and soft some cat breeds are, and like. mentally connects with their style of showing affection as compared to the way most dogs do

goemon: he had no fucking idea what to do in that one episode and you know it!!! cat person, hands down. quieter (unless food is involved) content to lay in a spot for hours undisturbed, simply just watches the world go by, eyes go enormous when crazy bullshit happens but otherwise doesn't say shit in response. familiar, isn't it! hell he could just get a cat and not tell anyone and they wouldn’t realize for like a month because of how damn content and quiet the thing was. he just keeps it tucked under his shirt with their little head poking out and one day it sneezes and lupin goes “oh my god its real”

zenigata: controversial but i know it to be true. cat person. he likes dogs too, but he just LOVES cats. it's a reverse of fujiko-- the standard adult cat isn't going to immediately trust you with its life, you need to earn that! so when some aloof stray he passes every morning starts purring and leaning against his legs it's all over for him. he'd probably accidentally take in like four strays if not for the job. but also would make a killer dogsitter let’s be honest

#OBVIOUSLY LACKING THE NUANCES INDIVIDUAL PETS HAVE. THIS IS THAT GENERALIZATION SHIT #lupin the third #lupin iii #lupin #jigen #fujiko #goemon #zenigata

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coelacat · 27 days

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I am very intrigued by adam harding and stu sullivan please share a crumb of their lore🙏

hehe hi 👋

okay okay ill finally gush abt them

also i should warn that some fucked shit!! happens to these characters. dont read my lore about them if abuse/rape/substance abuse/bigotry isnt stuff you wanna see. anything under the cut is just a brief mention, but its there

so most of my ocs (the guys with relatively normal names, anyone named like. blade or some fantasy name ignore them for now) are a set of young adults in the 80s in small town midwest USA (some town in iowa, probably) (if any of this sounds familiar to anyone keep it to urself :)). i wanna cover their struggles with highschool, struggling with transitional periods, and then growing into adulthood. im debating if i wanna add and supernatural/scifi elements of have it focus on their relationships and internal struggles mostly, but those are minor details for later on down the road

adam!! hes like. My Main Guy. the one i ended up making this whole lil universe for. bold that i created all of this for him basically and i still named him after adam from the bible, yet it gives me a complex i deeply enjoy so i do it anyway. i am a god who created the world for man, not man for the world.

most of these characters play off 80s media stereotypes and expand on them, and i think adam is like. the most blatant example of this. you know that movie from the 80s-90s you last watched that had a misogynistic metalhead who pulled chicks because he viewed them as objects to win, loved his car, and was angry and violent most of the time, while people who were scared of him vaguely assumed he was satanic in some way? thats adam harding. bleached blonde hair done in a perm mullet, a shitty stache hes convinced makes him look mature, sad brown eyes, leather jackets, and steel toed boots, with tattoos to really top it all off.

semi repressed devout christian faggot who struggles with his own sexuality and identity. hes got daddy issues AND mommy issues (though his mommy issues are much more prominent) and an abusive and neglectful home life, he has to adapt to having a sister after being an only child his whole life, and he has to adjust to a move half way across the country, from southern california to the middle of nowhere hick iowa. as a result, hes quick to anger, never lets his guard down unless around other queers, but ultimately he wants to be good. he was told to be good by his mother, its been ingrained in him from a young age to be nice and do good things. its just unfortunate that his environment allows for that as little as possible. when he has the patience and energy, hes often a lot gentler, but its rare for him to not be running on fumes and a bit of nicotine.

his hobbies include chasing milfs and cougars, working on his car, working out, surfing, blaring Dio as loud as humanly possible, chainsmoking, basketball and wrestling. keep those last two in mind.

on the other hand, stewie "stu" sullivan is the star example of what a highschool student should be. athletically, hes the top of the school, hes got pretty hair and a handsome face, a kind of preppy style, and girls go wild over him. soft brunet hair, sweet freckles occasionally dotting his skin, and lovesick hazel eyes. hes even a total sweetheart who usually treats his girlfriends really well. his only downsides are his mild stupidity, petty mean streak, his shitty guard dog entourage, and his twin brother, kurtis.

stu comes from an upper middle class home, and hes got high expectations set on him. hes consistently been great on whatever local sports team hes been a part of, and the success of his whole future rests on his shoulders to continue doing well. he'll have a free ticket to college, if only he can stay the top of his school, athletically. in terms of popularity, hes pretty slow to give up that as well.

you can probably guess that having the constant pressure to be perfect from his parents creates a lot of friction, however, hes always been seen as the "good" of the two twins. he cant really rebel in any meaningful way, as the expectations placed on him keep him locked in place of being well mannered with adults. towards other students, however, stu will happily pick some fights to blow off steam. its usually with the teens that dont fight back, of course, and its usually only a couple petty insults and a half hearted shove. one affected girl thought that she mightve seen remorse in his expression when he walked away. she was written off as being down bad for him.

oh, right. remember those hobbies of adams i asked you to keep in mind? basketball and wrestling?

yeag .... that might be because stu is the top of the team for wrestling and basketball, and is constantly regarded as the schools mvp.

you can imagine how easily theyd hate each other. theyre both hormonal teenagers who are angry all the time and feel insanely guilty about being angry so they only get angrier and now theyre both challenging each others masculinity. adam very quickly comes for the top spot in the sports stu is good at, so they end up beefing with each other fast and hard. its a constant cock measuring contest with them, and they frequently bloody each others noses.

this sorta fued carries on, and they make no real progress with each other for like 6 months, until adam meets eve, a mysterious newcomer to the town who refuses to say much about herself. shes very obviously queer, and he latches onto her almost immediately as a result of that, and verious other reasons. eventually, eve will coax out adams queerness and he'll be a little more comfortable with himself and end up realizing "fuckkkkkj dude ive got a crush on that prettyboy whos blood ive tasted!!". stu will eventually be coaxed into realizing himself and fixing some of his issues as well as they get older, though all that stuff is a lot more vague in my mind at the moment.

the post i rbed from you tagging as them, id imagine is after adam meets eve, and starts spreading his faggot agenda to stu, but before either of them are fully comfortable with the fact that theyre into men.

stu will eventually have some gender fuckery going on too, but like. thats complicated and i wanna wait and explore that once i have a more comfortable grasp on his character.

if you want a voice claim for adam, i particularly like Randy from Idle Hands (1999) for him? i still gotta nail down voice claims for most other characters though. sorry that adams my favorite

#oc: adam harding #oc: stu sullivan #theres still a lot of work to be done on my ocs #any of this is subject to change at literally any moment and stu's character is VERY heavily a wip #way more than adams #feel free to dm me or send more asks if you wanna know more!! theres plenty ive left out of this post just for times sake #i could go on for hours about my ideas for all these guys #a little misc detail i think you personally would enjoy about stu #is hes got that 80s movie popular boy pet jock that he keeps around #whos just there to suck his dick basically #his name is tommy :)

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decadentpandawasteland · 6 months

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It's been a while since I've done just a regular prompt post. I wanted to go with something more relaxed and fun than my usual style. Please feel free to leave any and all feedback, and as always, thank you for reading :)

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

There are so few things in my life that I truly despise. For instance, stepping on a puddle in just your socks is a crappy way to start your day, sure, but you can always change socks. Maybe that guy who cut you off was just someone rushing home, and they don't understand that in my culture, a peace sign requires two fingers, not one. Running in cold rain, however, that one I genuinely hate. Running in cold rain and being chased by a giant two-headed dog? Definitely at least make the top three.

I turned back around seeing the black furred, two-headed monstrosity that was as tall as a fully grown tree.

“Shit shit shit shit shit!” I yelled, running as fast as I could. “This is not good boy behavior!”

In the middle of a step the left side let out a sneeze, while the right side lulled its tongue to the side. The clearing was up ahead and I saw one of the Maesters standing there. The old man didn't even blink an eye at the ball of fur and teeth that was only a few feet behind me.

“Get out of the way old man!” I screamed. Either he couldn't hear me from the rain or the slightly trembling earth of my canine companion behind me. I passed the Maester as he calmly put his hand up, the cold rain ceasing in an instant. For a second I could still feel the rumbling of the two headed dog and just as suddenly, it too was gone. After I stopped running, I turned back to look at the old man and… a two headed… puppy?

“Great. You survived. On to the next phase of training.” The Maester said, reaching down to pick up the double headed dog. Two pink tongues began to lick the Maester, a bundle of energy and love. That's when I remembered I heard Lefty sneeze. A thing dogs do when they are signaling they are playing. A sneeze that shouldn't have happened with the rain coming down, keeping irritants stuck in liquid prisons.

I let out heaving breaths, gulping down air before finally saying “I get the sense…. I'm being punished…. for something.”

Maester Willem gave me a flat look before handing over the puppy to me. “Now what in the world gave you that idea? Was it possibly missing this morning's service? How about the three separate times you were found passed out drunk in front of your dormitory? The missing practices? Or the…”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” I said, still holding the puppy. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Theron, Hand is here to keep you in line. Not the other way around.”

“Hand?” I said, incredulously. “This thing's name is Hand?”

“Their name is Hand. The Right Hand and the Left Hand.” Maester Willem gave each of the heads an affectionate pet as he said their names. Hand's tail was wagging so fiercely it threatened to carry the puppy into the air. This absolutely was feeling like a punishment.

“Theron, are you coming or not?” Maester Willem, prodded without looking back. The old man was already several hundred yards from where he had started. Did the old man have a teleport spell or something? Heat began radiating on one of my hands and the other was feeling cold, almost frigid. I looked down to see Hand’s two heads, each basically vomiting up some kind of liquid fire and somehow water so cold I could feel shards of ice stabbing into my hand.

“Ow! Old man, you didn’t tell me that they could do that!” I yelled, setting Hand down to chase after the old man. Two of the single cutest barks came from behind me and I stopped and watched for a moment, taking in the sight that had just minutes ago, had been chasing me to what I thought was my death. Lefty was cleaning out Righty’s ear with licks while I caught Righty’s eye. The little menace sprinted at me at full force and jumped up into my arms, both skulls knocking against my own. They were the happiest things I had ever seen, and judging by the way Maester Willem was looking, he was thinking the same thing about me.

#fantasy #my writing #writers on tumblr #fantasy writing #writeblr #writing prompt

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isawken · 7 months

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haha heyyyyy jesties

this year has been rough stuff. and the problem is nothing life shattering has happened so i don’t even get to have a spectacular mental breakdown. it’s just been a lot of grind and disappointment and struggle to keep up or have any energy to do anything other than the bare minimum. to everyone who reached out to me with love or kindness or memes and waited weeks or more for a response i love you. and i’m so sorry for my total absence of personhood. i’ve never gotten a dm even if it’s just a silly post and an “i thought of you” that i didn’t like. and your patience with me is appreciated more than you know.

i have some stuff i want to work on. some hobbies i want to pick up again. some friendships i want to recultivate. some pieces of my life i want to try to rekindle. i used to have so much creative energy and impulse. did you know i used to make zines? i fuckin loved making zines. the tactile experience of cutting up thick paper and punching holes and using thread to bind em and filling it with vague thoughts and little collages and splashes of acrylic paint. that shit ruled. about a month ago i tried making one for the first time in years. i cut up some old paper and dusted off the ol' hole punch. this time instead of my usual embroidery thread i used necklace chain to bind it. i was proud of that idea. when it came time to put stuff in it i choked. i had no creative thought. i forced myself to cover the first page with orange and yellow crayola markers. but that was it. i had nothing other than that. just hasty sloppy color thoughtlessly and restlessly thrown down. a dull background promised to a more interesting foreground that never came.

that shit did not rule.

in 1883 in pecos texas the first recorded rodeo takes place. in 2001 rob smets attends the PBR world finals in jeans and a sports jersey bearing sponsor logos. in 1780 joseph grimaldi makes his stage debut at 2 years old at london’s famed drury lane. in the many, many years before any white person ever laid eyes on it, a man in what you’d now call northern arizona paints his body in black and white stripes and puts corn husks in his hair. in 1557 ivan the terrible acts as pallbearer to a man who walked naked in the streets of moscow, even in the dead of winter. 1568 the gelosi acting company coalesces in italy to perform the hot new style of live improv entertainment. in 2017 the ringling bro’s circus performs its last show, 146 years after the titular brothers first formed it. all of these moments (and more!) live in my head rolling around like marbles and one day i’ll tell you all why.

i’ve been on mood stabilizers for so long it’s hard for me to tell if this has just been a really long depressive swing or if this is just how i am now. if this is just what getting older is like. i don’t really think it is. i am like 90% sure this will not last. but the two questions that follow are always 1. how do i get out of it, and 2. what if it is tho xD?

i recently went down to southeastern ohio to visit my family. went up the mountain at 1 am saturday night to help my gramma grab the 8 year old boy she’s been helping to take care of from his strung out mother. the next day i saw my various other relations, aunts and cousins however many times removed. i hung out with my second cousin. same age as me, with two twin girls, 4 years old. she’s a great mom. and enjoys it, too. got a decent husband with a good job. obviously i don’t know her struggles. not like we talk often. but she seemed overall pleased when she spoke about her life. i told her about my work from home job and my loving partner of 8 years and my plans for the future. she told me i was living the dream. and like. i kind of am. so why do i wake up every morning in various states of hangover (it's the mental illness)

i live in one of the cloudiest cities in these united states. my house is about 500 square feet. it’s dark at 5pm now. i already miss the sun. i want to get sunburned again. i want to be sweaty. i want to put talcum powder in my skort. i want to get through this winter without having to rub snow on my face to stave off more serious impulses. i want to check the 5 items off my to do list.

all of my want is like a song stuck in my head.

i miss that stickbug meme

i should dress up like a clown again

maybe tomorrow i’ll just lay under my weighted blanket for 5 hours

or maybe i’ll actually do something i like to do and feel good and real and human about it. who knows. only time will tell. and in the meantime. thanks if you read this <3

#hi and welcome to my bi-yearly Personal Rambling Long Post #a serious big fr thank u to those of you who are patient when i dont respond for long stretches of time. it means the world to me :o)

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fabdante · 2 months

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If you could give the reboot twins new outfits, what would you pick? If it helps any: Maybe one outfit for casual clothes, one ~*fancy*~ one, and one specifically for combat?

exCELLENT QUESTION!! i love clothes a lot and i love redesigns and i have a massive Pinterest board dedicated to collecting outfit pieces for fic and fan art of everyone in the reboot so i have Thoughts. I decided to make little outfit collages since I'm supposed to be drawing right now and am now procrastinating

Dante: In general for Dante I like to mix a lot of alternative aesthetics. Particularly stuff like crust punk, streetwear, and some elements of classic grunge (namely the thing those Seattle guys did where they were layering shorts with like leggings and shit underneath). Jackets are a big one for him. Also I think he should wear more crop tops. And a lot of t-shirts that he just finds places that he thinks are funny (he is a man after my own heart I to buy clothing because I think it's funny). I imagine some of the DIY he does himself, some of it other people have done for him in the past, some of it he just found that way. A lot of things he owns are also stolen probably. The type of guy also that if you leave him alone with scissors he will cut up all his shirts (he is me)

Dante doing formal wear I think would keep a lot of this sort of alternative energy and also be very like...casual comparatively. Like we're talking like very lazily buttoned shirts and slacks and probably still wearing some sort of combat boot you cannot get this guy in a tie and he is probably keeping his sleeves rolled up unless he is wearing some jacket he's decided is 'formal' with it. I like to imagine, like me, he enjoys a good fur coat from the thrift store so perhaps one of those also.

Dante fights in what he always wears I think. He doesn't really think ahead. If he had to have something more geared towards combat, definitely boots, definitely some good jeans, and definitely something a bit airy on top. Also fingerless gloves are a must for the traction it gives him.

Also I need Dante in this for my mental health:

Vergil: For Vergil I tend to keep his aesthetic very minimalist, very clean, and very expensive. Like we're talking 800+ dollar sweaters and such. I think he tends to be quite formal, like you're not going to find him in anything but slacks unless he is going to bed or he's exercising. I also think he is a fan of statement footwear. Also he is the type of guy who gets everything custom tailored. I also like to think, rather then his gloves all being latex doctor glove type gloves like I think is common for people to headcanon, he has a wide variety for different things and yes since he wears them all the time the do get worn down fast. Also they are all blue and yes he has driving gloves. I also usually imagine him in all black with pops of blue.

His formal wear is probably not much different then his casual wear since he is so formal, just like you know More So. He likes suits and ties and dramatic silhouettes and dramatic jackets and all that.

Due to his dedication to formality I do think a combat outfit would be similarly theatrical and focused on this very formal styling. I would hope he'd get heavier duty boots though. He would definitely have leather gloves, however, for combat as well since they'd be heartier.

#dmc reboot #ask #fab talks #fabtalks #ironically im drawing kat outfits right now and almost done asdfghjk #fun fact the most expensive sweater i found sweater hunting for vergil several years ago was 1200 dollars

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