#but its a great way to cover up as peter looks just like spidey so if he ever gets demasked he just pretends to be peter trying to be a hero

[movedtodykedvonte]

Universe where Peter Parker and Spider-Man are two different people but they are just long lost identical twins and it becomes really confusing when Spidey saves the guy who has his exact face and genic makeup minus the spider dna.

#i love generic fanfic ideas but also the idea they somehow have never crossed paths #but its a great way to cover up as peter looks just like spidey so if he ever gets demasked he just pretends to be peter trying to be a hero #or faking pictures for the bugle #peter parker #spider-man #marvel comics

[measuringbliss]

Spider-Man Read-Through 012: Hmm watcha say... (ASM 88-92, Ann 7)

MASTERPOST

In this post, we're here to DO CO---I mean, Doc Ock is here.

We get some real nice art in this batch, so check it out!

See, Otto has been hustling and busting to increase his Bluetooth range and finally, after months, succeeds in taking control again of his mechanical arms.

Spidey thus does his best impression of a Japanese erotic doujinshi.

That's a great panel.

The arms escape, but more importantly: Gwen has a great new outfit! Love it.

Pete also has a great outfit later.

The yellow jacket/blue pants works exquisitely, obviously, but the sweater below, and the black tie over a white shirt... It's great.

So this issue's about Ock hijacking a plane where coincidentally a Chinese general has also boarded, and Otto uses this to blackmail the US and get money. A bit of racism (unsurprising), a smart idea (Spidey assassin'screeding his way to the plane) and nice outfits prevent this issue from being completely unmemorable. Otto has been through an explosion, but come on, it's not the last time it happens. He'll be alright. He's a big boy.

The next issue doesn't waste time with this either, since Spidey is once again fighting Ock on its cover, no less!

Randy's back, which is great.

We also get a very nice, if a bit overdone, panel.

On one hand, this issue is almost 100% action, which I dislike. On the other hand, we get fantastic perspective art.

But in the next issue, D E A T H A W A I T S.

I haven't had readers' letters for two issues now, I wonder if my scans are missing them or if the editors didn't have time for this.

Peter faints because a battle that takes a full issue is just far too long, and this gives us a nice waking up scene, although now I feel like Spidey is constantly sick or weakened.

Peter still hasn't told his secret to Gwen's father (he HAS to know though, right?). The artists are clever and they beg me to forgive them for last issue by providing both male physique and very nice colors.

It admittedly works. The colors, not Petter's too defined chest.

To beat Otto's impressive continent-wide Bluetooth skills, Peter invented a counter-measure: Bluetooth, but better! He No Way Home's Otto's tentacles and takes care of him.

Anyway, the tentacles go amok and Captain Stacy jumps in to protect a kid from rubbles and HE DIES. BUT NOOOOOT BEFORE REVEALING THAT HE KNOWS PETER'S SECRET. YES.

The letters are back, but they're not particularly interesting to me.

It's issue 91 one time, and what better way to close the year (December baby) than with a burial!

Gwen is furious at Spider-Man, whom she believes is responsible. So she's proactive and decides she's going to help Mr. Bullit at the local elections. Spidey's going to be fucked and she's making sure of it!

Bullit is making his greatest impression of the French government circa 2017-2027 (I will say no name, but those who know, know) and I'm having flashbacks. According to Robertson, he's "a fascist" and "still living in the 1930s". It's heartwarming to know that a century later, my government would be at the same point.

Jameson argues that maybe things were better before, to Robbie's face, which is truly outlandish.

FLASHBACKS, AS I SAID.

The issue was more disturbing than enjoyable.

In the letters, William Fesselmayer thinks that Hobie has to have guessed Spidey's identity, and I'd reply to him that he probably doesn't care. Someone else actually roleplays as him in the letters with the same "I figured who he is!", lol.

The readers are absolutely obsessed with the mechanics of Spidey's shooting mechanics, whereas I truly don't care about it. Like, it's a subject mentioned EVERY TIME.

In the penultimate issue of this post (92!), Iceman is here and considering he woudn't come out for another 4-5 decades, he's a jerk.

Look how he is, pretending he's straight!

Bobby's a breath of fresh air, literally but also figuratively. His powers are entertaining to see, after so much of Otto and Kingpin.

Meanwhile, Gwen's no silent observer. She very much channels our dear Natasha.

Meanwhile...

Wow, this is getting real, folks. ASM really starts affirming its politics from 1969 on.

It's page 10 and Iceman and Spidey are fighting for the second time in the same issue, and it feels endless.

And Robbie's kidnapped! Fuck.

But this panel ruined the tension and made me snicker.

Like I said, Iceman is a very pleasant addition to this otherwise... complicated arc. But what do I see? THE PROWLER'S BACK!?! Makes sense, given he was very popular (and rightfully so!). But he's going to be for the next post. We have Annual 7 to go through before!

I've read the first two stories before (as they're reprints from the very first two issues!) but not the last one, "A Guy Named Joe" (since I didn't read #38). So let's read it!

This is one issue before Norman reveals to Peter he's the Green Goblin. What a great guy indeed!

A protest scene that is sure handled differently than in 1969, huh!

MJ hadn't been showed yet! But she sure had a bust already.

Fun issue, nothing much to say, Joe Smith is an obvious name for an anonymous guy. It all ends well!

Overall, a mixed batch. It felt a bit too heavy at times compared to real life. Oof. Not that I necessarily disliked it...

#spiderman #amazing spiderman #comics #long post

[spidertgirl]

Spider-Gwen and the Case of the Monday Blues

Part One- Monday Morning, So Forlorning

TW: This is just a little pre-Spider-Verse, ITSV Spider-Gwen transromance fic with Peter Parker (AFAB, before coming out). As the story takes through Gwen’s perspective, Patricia is dealt in prose as a woman. This is a plot point. Let me WRITE!!

This is also supposed to be cushy as shit so don’t take this too seriously. I literally finished writing it and immediately copy and pasted it here without any edits so its a bit rough. I just like posting.

Gwen hated Mondays.

Well, more than most. Sundays she tended to stay up all night, either catching up on schoolwork she missed catching criminals, or criminals she missed catching up on schoolwork.

Either way, loud blaring music kept her up far into the night. Last Night’s flavor was a local Hardcore band, mixed with some Beastie Boys, and a bit of Shoegaze.

Her ears were screaming bloody valentines like the worst hangover imaginable, and the wind rushing past them as she swung between skyscrapers did nothing to help. She had to stop and fall onto a nearby taxi just to get some relief.

Which was odd, she would have noticed if she had time to think. Her Sunday routine had long included ear-breaking decibels before and she thought nothing of it. A part wondered if she had just left her earphones in overnight, or taken a few too many hits, but the whole of her was somewhere else.

Something about this morning just drove her Spidey Sense wild. She barely felt it unless danger was right before her. Gwen looked everywhere- no danger. Well, a few dangers. She cautiously stopped a falling passerby, slowed a speeding car, tied a stranger's shoes, and a great deal more simple but thoughtful gestures. It did nothing to heal head, ear, or sense.

But her fears came and past, her school almost came and past before she realized it, and she was quickly distracted by another fear.

“Guess what day it is today?” Patricia asked. Gwen shook her head.

“No, I give up.”

“You didn’t even try! C’mon, one guess.”

“Mmm… the day Mr. Peterson is finally gonna commit to his alopecia and just go bald?” Her friend laughed, and gave her a light push on the shoulder.

“I’m serious!”

“So am I, there are only so many hats in the world that can cover up that sunk cost fallacy.”

“So you have no clue?”

“As clueless as Scooby Doo. Or Cher. Can I change my answer to Cher?”

“Honey, if you’re Cher I’ll get to be Tai.”

“Why Tai? Oh that rhymes!”

“Why Tai, why I always related to her untamable mass of curly hair, my Cheri.”

Gwen realized it was halfway through English and she still didn’t know what Patricia was talking about.

“I’m lost.”

“It’s not that hard Gwen, Mr. Morton is the subject of the sentence because-”

“No, what’s today?”

“One month.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Still nothing.”

“Babe, I love you but you really are clueless.”

“What’re you gonna do with me?”

“Maybe throw you out in a box like a cat. Or, I guess a Jar would be more fitting.”

“Wha- oh. Haha, very funny.” She thought for a moment.

“Do the cat’s really get thrown out with a box? I thought they found it. Like a hermit crab.”

“Of course, otherwise it’s just a cruel thing to do, throwing out a cat.”

“Yeah, but they have a bad habit of getting back in. We used to have-”

“This cat named Mary who used to sneak into your house and-”

“We could never quite throw out- what don’t you know about me?”

“Nothing, now think.”

Gwen could only think of Patty throwing her out the window in a glass cup.

Maybe the shock would get her feeling right. She didn’t know if it was sleep deprivation, embarrassment, or some secret third thing that was keeping her from focusing, but it was driving her insane.

She loved Patricia, and she really wanted to do right by her and their relationship. But she knew they had been dating for almost a year at this point, so ‘one month’ didn’t quite make sense. If only this damn fog would leave her head!

And that creepy feeling down her spine, if she could help it. It’s terribly unhelpful to have a spider sense that’s always turned on. Like radar at a metal concert- useless. Absolutely and positively useless.

She took a hit of the dog that bit her between classes, a smooth, poppier song. It almost did the thing, but a tug on her shoulder stopped her and took her headphones before she had the chance.

“What, you avoiding me now?”

“W- No, never! I’m just… kinda out of it.”

“I’m busting your literal and proverbial balls babe. Go to the nurse, see if she can help. And keep thinking!”

Gwen was gonna refuse- super healing and all- but remembered an especially bad hit to the side of her head that knocked her vision out for a few seconds. And apparently some memory too- not good. That’s concussion territory, she thought.

Or not, she didn’t have a super good grasp on medical sciences, but she watched enough scary news stories with her dad about sports medicine to know concussions are common and quick killers.

Still nothing on the date front though. She thought about everything she did a month ago, everything she said. Only the foggiest came through, the rest a mystery.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“I, uh… fell pretty hard and I think I might have a concussion. So… could you check it out?”

The nurse laughed.

“Sure, Bren- is that right?” the nurse eyed her up and down, with a wary eye.

“Gwen, ma’am.”

“Well, Gwen, why do you think you have a concussion?” she said, pulling out a small flashlight.

“Follow my finger.”

“I just feel sorta odd,” she said, eye clinging to finger for dear life.

“Headache?”

“Yeah.”

“Nausea?”

“A little.”

“Confusion?”

“A lot- I mean, huh?”

“Funny girl- loss of consciousness?”

“Uh, when I first… fell?”

“For how long?”

“Oh, a few seconds.” Barely two, by her guess. Not enough for her to lose her footing in the fight, but just enough to distract her, let them get the slightest upper hand.

It was a big job, with some fancy weapons. Not street level crime, this was something bigger. She kept one for questioning, but…

Wait, what happened to him? Gwen was half convinced she let him sit there forever while she went home in a fugue state, but that didn’t seem to likely.

“Ringing in the ears?”

“No, but they’re sensitive.”

“Blurry vision?”

“No? I mean, I wear contacts.”

“Blurrier vision?” Gwen squinted.

“No.”

“Ok, anything else? You can quit following my finger now.” Gwen didn’t realize she followed it right into her coat pocket.

“Oh, sorry. I feel… on edge, I guess.”

“On edge?”

“Yeah. Tingly, frightful.”

“Anxious?”

“Yeah, that’s the word! Anxious- more anxious.”

The nurse walked back to her computer.

“Ok, you probably have a concussion.”

“Shit- I mean-”

“It’s fine. Did you drive here?”

“No, I’m a freshman.”

“Good. Call your dad and have him take you to the hospital.”

“Cool- can I go outside to make the call?”

“No, I don’t think you should honestly be doing any extraneous physical activity.”

Gwen made her phone call in complete view of the nurse, much to her chagrin. The Nurse didn’t even make an effort to turn away- in fact, it seemed like she was watching the detail with great detail!

Gwen did not like this Nurse.

Gwen almost toppled over Patricia.

“Oh, watch where- oh hey. Did you just swing into me? Do you have a concussion?”

“No time to explain- I need makeup wipes.”

Patricia did not look happy.

“I’d actually kind of like to know my if my girlfriend’s got a concussion, actually.” Gwen was taken aback.

“I- shit, I’m sorry, I’m just really in a rush and I’m in a hurry-”

“Spider-Woman shit?”

“Life shit! I finally have life shit again- P, I just need you to start rummaging for your makeup wipes and I’ll explain.”

“Fine,” Patricia said, swinging her bag around and digging through it.

“I totally do have a concussion and I’m super sorry that I don’t remember what day it is but I just snuck out of the nurse’s bathroom to find you because my dad’s about to pick me up and she made me take the phonecall in front of her, and-”

“Here-”

“I thought that would take longer-” Gwen said, grabbing them, before Patricia holds them back.

“And?”

“And? Oh, I love you?”

“Sure, hon. Love you too.”

They both ran to the bathroom and started taking the make up off, four sinks running to hide their chat.

“So what actually is it?”

“It’s your one month transiversary, hun! Or, one month of being out at school.”

“Wait, really? Shit, I had no idea. Do you keep like a… handbook on me at home or something?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“No, I actually kinda would. That’s sorta weird.”

“More of a scrapbook?”

“That’s sorta cute- how do I look?”

“Ready for a Proud Boys rally. Well, drop the wig. And the skirt. And the thigh highs. And the-”

“I get it, I need to change. I’ll be back.”

“Can I watch?” Patty joked from outside the stall.

“I’ll have to charge you!” Gwen said, rummaging through her purse, past her Spiderwoman costume from her morning swing, and pulling out her slacks and sneakers.

“How long do you have?”

“I don’t know, probably a good ten, fifteen minutes. I used a youtube compilation called Ten Hours of People Shititng Farting And Groaning.”

“Weird and gross.”

“Even weirder thing is I had it saved.”

“Ew, gross.”

“Yeah, but pretty clever. Bet you're proud of your ol gir-” when Gwen opened the door, Patty was holding a small colorful parcel, wrapped with ribbon.

“I- is this a gift?”

“Yeah. I was gonna do blue and pink but I figured that’s a lil sus, so it’s red and blue. Basically the same thing. I had to cut up an american flag wrapping paper to make it, so the lace has a few holes that were once stars.”

“Aww, I love a little rebellious flag code violation! This is so sweet Pats, you didn’t have to. Can I open it in the hospital.”

“Oh, not… here?”

“Well it’s been ten minutes so far, and I need time to swing back and find the right window. And honestly I think I probably shouldn’t even swing. Besides, it'll cheer me up, I hate hotel rooms. Sorry, is that not fine?”

“Uh, no. No, it’s totally cool, babe, I get it. I don’t want you to be depressed if you’re there for a while. Call me if you’re there past six and I’ll visit you.”

“Ok- thank you, for everything. I really mean it. I… I don’t know. I owe you something. A lot, really babe. I’m sorry this Spider-Woman thing is such a problem.”

“I get it. Great Power means Great Responsibility.”

“That’s beautiful. Is that from one of your poems?”

“A comic book I read.”

“Figures. See you. Love you,” she added at the end and ran away.

She wondered if she shouldn’t have said anything at all. She always had a bad habit of never knowing when to keep her damn mouth shut, and Spider-Woman only galvanized her wit and ego to dramatic parts. She rarely felt like herself, save for when she was Gwen. When she was with Patty. When she was happy.

She wanted to say all these things, run back into her and find her… but it was probably too late. She’d call her, at least. That’s the least that she could do.

Finding the window was quicker and easier than the run- Gwen’s head just did not let up. She wondered why her supposedly super healing wasn’t helping any. But the door was locked. She stumbled through the window, and sat for a moment composing herself upon the toilet, letting her head settle in the dark room.

But when Gwen stood and walked to the door, where the phone was so perfectly placed…

“Shit, I could’ve sworn I put it there.”

The door creaked open. The Nurse and Gwen’s dad were standing there. Gwen’s dad was holding her phone.

“And you just did, young lady. What’s that- fifteen dollars now?”

“I hate your swear jar.”

“And your hate is expressed in gentle and thought out ways. Why did you leave the room? Actually, how did you even get down?”

“Why did you guys even open the door? I was on the toilet!”

“Usually I make it a habit to respond when my students with brain trauma stop responding and start groaning. Also I didn’t understand why you were so obsessed with selling me Raid Shadow Legends.”

Curse that Autoplay.

To be continued

Chapter Two coming soon!

A Stunning Preview of this Story’s Action Packed Finale!

“What’s that?” Gwen had almost gone to sleep before Patricia’s voice woke her up.

“What?”

“That… blinking red thing?”

“Pat, it’s a hospital, there are a lot of blinking red things.”

“Not really. It’s like, a laser. I mean not really, but it’s super bright. See look, there’s a dot there on the wall.”

Sure enough, Gwen stared on the darkness past her girlfriend… and there was the red light. Blinking. Unmoving.

Gwen was just as paralyzed. She looked to Patricia and Patricia looked back, more frightened.

“What is that

“I don’t know, but whatever it is Gwen… it’s coming from you.”

#spider gwen #itsv #spider-verse #spider verse #trans SpiderGwen #itsv fanfiction #atsv fic #itsv fic #spidergwen fic #spidergwen/peter Parker #trans peter parker #yes this is a period piece #hence the Raid Shadow Legends meme #across the spiderverse fanfiction #Spiderverse fic #ok that’s enough tags I apologize for any spelling errors. this was something small I was writing for myself and I ended up writing way- #more than I expected and in the rush of people sharing fun Spider-Verse fanart I felt inspired to rush it #and post. bc it’d be fun to post fanfics on my tumblr

[clarktooncrossing]

Hey there people of today and robots of tomorrow! It's me, Clark, back at least with another #throwbackthursday, just in time for the highly-anticipated Across the Spider-Verse! With Miles set to swing across the big screen again, I figured how would be a good time to show off this piece I made in 2020 featuring my characters from 3K. 3K is set in the year 3000 (hence the super subtle name) where robots are as common as people. So much so that a group of them band together in order to defend the planet from internal and external threats. One of its founding members is AH, a robot who went blind after seeing years of war now fighting for peace. Yet in another dimension she is one of a handful of robots who is infused with the powers of a spider, AH herself dawning the mantle of SpidAH-Girl. She fights crime in New York City alongside her friend ERN-E (Classic Spidey) and EMIL-E (Spider-Gwen).

In case this pic doesn't make it super obvious, I am a huge fan of Mayday Parker's Spider-Girl, her series acting as a gateway for my eventual love of comic books. Having fallen in love with the Raimi trilogy around the same time I discovered Google, I stumbled across the cover for The Amazing Spider Girl #1 and my life was never the same after. May zigged in everyway her father zagged. While she wasn't as physically strong as Peter was, I'd argue she was mentally and morally stronger than her old man ever was. Where Pete thinks that someone dies every time he fails, May sees it as somebody lives every time she succeeds. Along with that she has faster reflexes, a keener spider sense, can magnetize surfaces with her adhesion abilities, and even inherited her mother Mary Jane's sense of style. This is most evident by the fact that she looks way better in Ben Reily's spider suit than Ben himself ever did. On top of that she's a big brother, which is also cool.

I have draw AH as Spider-Girl before, as seen with this sketch from 2019-

However, this pic didn't keep me up until 1 or 2 AM. What can I say, when I get an idea in my head, nothing stops me until I see it completed. Especially when the end result turned out so great. I liked how AH looks in both her super suit and casual clothes, not to mention her lil' logo was a nice personal touch. If I were to change anything now it'd be to swap out EMIL-E's Spider-Gwen outfit for MJ's Spinneret from Renew Your Vows. EMIL-E and ERN-E are supposed to be a couple and by now I've jumped aboard the Miles x Gwen ship. It's the one time I will ever ship a Spider-Man with Gwen outside of Spectacular Spider-Man. Otherwise the reason I drew EMIL-E like this was because of a Halloween pinup my friends SIM-N and I did for Halloween back in 2016.

Looking back now, I wish we had named these pin ups something other than Playbot. Chock it up to be being a dumb teenager. Speaking of dumb, hey tumblr, screw you and your limit on image size! This is an art sharing website, I should be able to upload files regardless of size! Especially when I wanna share these old Halloween pin-ups later this year!

For now though, there's other retro Spidey art to show! Such as this DUDEL I made for SIM-N back in 2016.

For those of you wondering, the robot in the Jessica Drew suit is Monova, a bad@$$ character he designed that he now criminally underutilizes. I'd ask him why that is, but he never gives me straight answers! However, he did leave this comment when he saw this pic:

Monova: Okay you two definitively need to get married soon

So, y'know, that was funny. XD

With all that said, I hope you all enjoy this nostalgic trip through my past Spider-3K work and enjoy Across the Spider-Verse when it comes out tomorrow! I know I will! Until then, MAY THE GLASSES BE WITH YOU!

#robots #throwback thursday #spiderman #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #spidergirl #mayday parker #spider man #3K #year 3000 #NYC #Queen Monova #Finjix #Clarktoon Crossing #sketches

[fabianocolucci]

5 of my favourite MCU Retcons

The Marvel Cinematic Universe, much like its comic book counterpart, made use of retcons when, as the universe grew larger and larger, they wanted to either correct some continuity problems or tie newer installments to the older ones.

Here, I wanted to mention 5 of my favourite ones, plus a bonus one. The reasons why I picked them is simple: despite the fact that the original intent was way different, the new revelation didn't cause any harm to the storytelling.

Alright, so, the order won't be particular: I would simply mention them in chronological order, as in when the retcon took place.

THE INFINITY STONES HAVE BEEN AROUND SINCE PHASE 1 (THOR: THE DARK WORLD, 2013)

In the comics, the Cosmic Cube, named the Tesseract in the MCU, has nothing to do with the Infinity Stones. Neither does Loki's scepter.

However, when it became more apparent that the goal for the MCU was to lead towards Infinity War, they figured that having those two artefact being retroactively established as holding two Infinity Stones would have been a great idea. After all, Phase 1 movie kept teasing the Cosmic Cube (Iron Man 2 via notes and sketches, Thor by having it appear during the Post-Credits Scene and The First Avengers by making it the object Red Skull was after in the movie), so they essentially had to say "hey, you know how we made a huge deal about this one artefact? Well, turns out it's just ONE of SIX of the most powerful artefacts in the universe, and someone's goal is to gather them all".

It was Thor: The Dark World which first introduced the concept of the Infinity Stones by explaining how the Aether was one of them, even though it doesn't look like a stone at all (some speculated that it was originally meant to be a completely separate artefact too).

TONY STARK'S PARENTS BEING MURDERED BY THE WINTER SOLDIER (CAPTAIN AMERICA - THE WINTER SOLDIER, 2014)

When the original Iron Man movie came out in 2008, having Tony Stark's parents dying of a car accident seemed normal. However, Phase 1 already teased how Howard Stark was a pivotal member in the early days of S.H.I.E.L.D. which means it felt a little suspicious how he would suddenly die with a "car crash".

Thus, when The Winter Soldier arrived, the movie had the perfect opportunity to mention how Hydra was somehow involved in his death, and, when its sequel, Civil War, revealed that it was Bucky himself who performed the assassination, things tied together perfectly, even up to the date (Mission Report: December 16, 1991).

I like this retcon because, after the way they expanded Howard Stark's role, they could have revealed something on the line of "the accident story is a cover-up, here's how he actually died". Instead, since the canon mentioned the car accident, they still went with a car accident, even though it was not "unintentional".

SPIDER-MAN BEING THE KID SAVED BY STARK IN IRON MAN 2 (SPIDER-MAN HOMECOMING, 2017)

I don't think Homecoming outright mentioned it outside of an indirect reference in its end credits, but I've always found it nice how they decided that, in Iron Man 2, when Tony Stark saves a child, that's actually a little Peter Parker.

They definitely never intended that scene to be anything more than "Iron Man saves a kid and he even does so in a way that makes them think they defeated the robot", but, since they decided to reboot altogether Spider-Man and have him at the beginning of his superhero journey, they realised that MCU Spidey had the right age to have been a child during the events of Phase 1, so they canonically made him that kid.

It also established that, technically, Spider-Man has been around since the early days of the MCU.

That reminds me of something that occurred in the Marvel comics. When they created Jessica Jones, they made her a former high school classmate of Spider-Man, and, to prove it, they took a comic from the 1960s, where, among a group of students, there's a girl who looks like Jessica, and decided that they were the same character, thus retroactivelly making her a character with about 40 years of existence despite being a new one.

THE ANCIENT ONE BEING PRESENT DURING THE BATTLE OF NEW YORK (AVENGERS: ENDGAME, 2019)

The scene from Endgame that showed how the Ancient One was in New York during the events of the original Avengers movie is a nice detail because two of the things people keep wondering in superhero movies are "why aren't other characters helping them?" and "if you were around since before the events of your film, why haven't you helped before?" (to which the usual answer would be "we obviously haven't written that movie yet back in the day so we had no idea what the characters' backstories would have been"), and Tilda Swinton's appearance averts them both.

MYSTERIO BEING INVOLVED WITH THE "B.A.R.F." TECHNOLOGY (SPIDER-MAN FAR FROM HOME, 2019)

This one is a funny retcon because of just how absurd the events that snowballed from this are. During Civil War, Tony Stark uses a special technology, which nicknamed BARF, as it showed a core memory from his youth. Three years later, Spider-Man Far From Home revealed that this invention was created by Quentin Beck, who was so angry that Stark derided it by calling it BARF and didn't even credit him that he became Mysterio.

The events of Far From Home then directly led to No Way Home, and it is just so funny that the rips in the Multiverse from that movie ultimately derive from Tony Stark trying to come up with a fun nickname for the BARF technology.

BONUS ONE: STAN LEE BEING THE WATCHER'S INFORMANT (GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOL. 2, 2017)

Back when Stan Lee kept appearing in MCU movies, they were simply supposed to be fun moments where he, one of the most influential and important comic book artists, would appear in a quick and funny scene. Some fans did try to speculate that those scenes were not simply there for fun, but teased something important like that he's actually the Watcher observing key events and characters.

Then, the second Guardians of the Galaxy movie decided to establish this, by having him being the Watchers' Informant. It was a nice touch, because, all of a sudden, those cameos he made across the years had a purpose. Also, since he appeared in many Non-MCU movies, he is technically the original multiversal character.

I now want to know which are your favourte MCU retcons.

#mcu #marvel cinematic universe #infinity stones #stan lee #barf #mysterio #spiderman far from home #spiderman no way home #multiverse #watcher #ancient one #avengers endgame #endgame #zozz is even better than zozi #bebtember #sajre

[brakken-spideyverse]

Here’s another review! Almost up to date, now...

Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)

This film is fun, and cute!

I remember when I first saw it, I kind of got sensory overload. Because TASM2 was so dear to me, I was concerned about how I’d feel about a newly rebooted series. I was mostly pleased by it, and the more I’ve watched it, the things I like have amplified, and the things I dislike have diminished.

To start on something I like – well, that’s Peter. Tom Holland brings good energy to this version of the character. Separated from the plots themselves, I’m happy to have enjoyed all cinematic portrayals of Spidey, each enjoyable and unique – great covers of the same song. Tom’s Peter balances the weight of a hero’s responsibility with the excitement and naivety of a teenager really well - very eager to please and show off.

It’s nice to have a sense of believability to him and his friends. The Hollywood Highschool filter isn’t strong here – the characters all feel young, and still finding their feet. In one way, however, I do think this is a hindrance. Where many felt that the TASM Peter was ‘too cool’, here we have the opposite problem to an extent. Most of the students are goofy, nerdy, weirdos – to the point where those traits don’t stand out as much in Peter. Things like making Flash a nerdy bully avoids certain clichés, but our main character blends into the crowd a little in the process.

But dang, Spidey’s pretty fun in this, ain’t he? His scenes feel exciting in a whole different way than earlier iterations. The notorious MCU humour finds a home with this character, and we get to laugh and panic and cheer at his heroics. I find his consistent screw-ups get a little tiring by the end – I want to feel his confidence shift into a new gear as he grows up a bit, and they don’t deliver fully on that here. Some great design work, though. The moving lenses? Genius. The saturated red-and-blue? Beautiful. Some smaller embellishments I’m not too keen on, but hey, it doesn’t hurt the look too much. His theme music is good, while not hitting the absolute pinnacle I want from a Spidey theme, it does its job – but sounds best when it’s just doing the low-key ‘Peter Parker’ version of it.

In the earlier Phases, it was a common criticism that the individual films felt too separated from the wider universe. ‘Why doesn’t he just call the Avengers?’ was a question easily asked of each movie, and in turn the plots attempted to skirt around it. Civil War hung that question out to dry, and Homecoming followed up to show us that actually, this universe is indeed connected despite not always front and centre. The movie wears its lower stakes proudly – really wanting this to be the friendly neighborhood.

But… I do get tired in the scenes with Tony Stark, which is hard to reconcile with, as he’s what drives a lot of the plot forward – a plot I think is nicely structured. Tony in Homecoming almost feels like a caricatured version of the character from earlier movies, exaggerated to necessitate certain moments for Peter’s journey. For the most part I’m able to go along with it, as it’s not a movie about Iron Man, but I always get caught up on this when he comes off as overly disconnected to Peter. He brought him into the fold in Civil War, and here it really does feel like the kid is an afterthought. The movie wants you to be on board with the reality check he gives to Peter after the ferry, but I’ve never been completely sold on that.

And that stems partly from Karen. She is a problem for me! I’ve talked before about how a plot with a suit that puts a voice inside Peter’s mind and gives him unique abilities is far too in-key with a Symbiote storyline. In Homecoming, Karen is kind of a mixed bag of enabling Peter’s recklessness, or getting him into more trouble in spite of it. It’s all kicked off when he disables the ‘Training Wheels’ protocol… which is what, exactly? All it seems to do is hinder Peter from getting beyond what he already knows how to do. If the idea is to train Peter, why is Karen locked behind DLC instead of being there to guide Peter from the start, since Tony doesn’t seem keen to do so himself? Karen should be the training wheels.

It all builds to Peter lifting himself up out of the rubble. A wonderful moment. His simple chant of “Come on, Spider-Man!” hits beautifully for how I think about the character. But it’s a little deflated because it hinges around Tony’s words echoing back to him - it sorta gives the win to Tony, instead of Peter.

Vulture is a solid aspect of that afore-mentioned ‘shared universe’ feeling. His grudge against Tony Stark is this extra drop of backstory that makes his own motivations feel part of a broader world. It could easily have been exaggerated into a big ol’ revenge plot, but his focus on keeping under the radar makes things more interesting, and stays connected yet unhooked from the larger-scale MCU stuff. I think the 8-year time skip hurts Vulture most. Simply put, there’s really no tangible growth for his team across that skip to make it feel justified. Heck, their hairstyles haven’t even changed in all that time. The notion that Shocker 1 hasn’t caused a problem until now feels very contrived the more I watch it, and his death scene puts Toomes’ character into a grey area for me because of that. As far as visual designs which depart from the comics go, I love this one – it has just enough going on to hit the middle ground between a practical piece of equipment and a villainous bird costume, with his scavenging making it clear that he’s a particular kind of bird. And while it’s overused, I love his music. A twisted version of the Avengers theme, that is just loud and untidy, and annoyed.

When my favourite scene in a Spider-Man movie is with three characters sitting in traffic, something has either gone very wrong or very right. In this case, it’s the latter. I’m gonna be bold and say that the scene of driving to the dance is an example of tension written to perfection. So much of the movie has stacked to it without us knowing, and we’re allowed to watch that Jenga tower wobble… right itself… wobble again… and then the light turns green, and Toomes has it.

There’s a simplistic charm to Aunt May in this movie. It seems like each cinematic version of the character has scaled back her inspirational pep talks, but in doing so, also scaled back her presence and impact on Peter’s life. I wish she had more to do, or more relevance, but at the same time I do like seeing her just… helping him get ready for the dance.

MJ never really hit home in this movie for me. I feel she’s stuck in the limbo of a middle-tier character - not given enough to do to justify her showing up, nor  does she lack substance to the point of relegating her to the background. This is a meta-critique, but it’s just weird that she’s on the poster for this movie, and not Liz, or Ned. She gets more to do in the sequels, but her presence here almost feels out of preparation for that, than anything else.

It's hard to properly judge the film’s ending given how things follow up in Infinity War. Peter walking down the steps, away from the Avengers HQ with a big smile on his face is a very satisfying moment. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, here we go—oh, wait, nope… now he’s in space. Connecting to the larger MCU proves to be a strength and a weakness, so while I enjoy the ending here, it’s an aspect of this iteration that I have continued to wrestle with, as have the films themselves.

It's good, it’s fun, and there’s a lot of simple and solid Spidey stuff – that is both elevated and hampered by the Avengers spotlight.

Rating:

#max talks about spidey #long post #nonmakeover

[brawltogethernow]

Well, in the spirit of the season I guess I should ask... is Venom's debut story in ASM worth reading?

The only answer you need might be that my first thought was, "Wait, which one?" But, okay, having put together that you probably mean the actual issue "Venom", ASM #300, I'm gonna go with...I guess?

While the schlockily web-bedecked opener is noted and appreciated, this issue isn't on my shortlist of the franchise's best forays into horror. It's more standard action with a handful of horror moments? It's definitely not on my shortlist of best issues period. Like, it's not bad, not at all! It's just okay! There are some fun moments! I wouldn't press it on somebody and insist they read it, but I wouldn't advise people to skip it either.

I don't usually take this stance on stories from older comics that went on to be heavily retold and adapted, but the execution doesn't really do justice to the cool concepts in the introduction of Venom The Supervillain. I think I would still feel that way even if it were the same writing paired with an artist I like more, but... Actually that's probably not true. I have a really hard time vibing with McFarlane comics.

It's also not the strongest reading experience taken as a standalone issue, because it had a fairly long build-up laced through issues otherwise focusing on other topics. Even if you skip the Alien Costume Saga and go straight for issues rolling out the carpet for Eddie Brock-as-Venom, you're going to be starting a hop back in Web of Spider-Man #18, which I don't really need to namecheck so specifically but wanted to so I can clarify that that issue is about Peter getting stranded mostly naked out in the burbs, almost starving to death, getting arrested, and then being hunted by the wealthy for sport. This is by the same writer, so, yeah, I definitely like his approach to pulp better when it's not ugly. RIP.

Though it's definitely still true that... Once you hit the late eighties where Amazing, Spectacular, and Web are all running concurrently, the rough rule of thumb is that Amazing is going to be the most average one. It basically becomes optional extra reading to glean a better understanding of the other two main titles. Again, it's not bad! But its sister titles are regularly great, and the same is true of the first two and a half decades of ASM, so the comparison is rough.

For the spooky factor, I'm not going to knock "Spider-Man but with teeth" (though still before Venom really starts to be drawn as gooey), but I prefer the alien costume era's aesthetic, where the symbiote is two dimensional like a malignant shadow (that's in love with the subject it has taken the shape of but not enough to know how not to harm it) - an artistically minimalist descendant of the Phantom Blot.

(-- Web #1)

To let the words of others frame this sequence:

So yeah, Venom (composite identity) and Venom (alien) and Eddie (Catholic reporter) each have different reading lists floating around if you want to go spelunking in one of those topics. Fair warning for moviegoers that comics Eddie is literally just such a weirdo, like in a fun train wreck way but lacking that, like, sick chihuahua charm Tom Hardy brings to the role.

That said! The alien costume stuff isn't really a Halloween read either! If you want a Spidey story that will give you chills from the same era, I'm going to recommend "Mad Dog Ward", a three-parter in Web #33, ASM #295, and SSM #133. (This time it's all by the same creative team: Don't skip the ASM issue lmao.)

Fair warning that the trigger list on this one is, like, probably too long to tally on both hands, and I would have to reread it in full to try to compile that.

Edit: ...Looking at that cover again, I should probably clarify that Venom is not in the three-shot. Given those stories came out within six months of each other, I wouldn't be surprised if this was a point of design inspiration!

#spiderman #venom #spidey #marvel #comics #mirrorfalls #asks answered #essays #horror

[spooderboyandtincan]

You're Gonna Miss Me When I'm Gone

Chapter 2

There’s a spider on the ceiling.

Peter can barely make out its eight gangly legs through a blur of tears. He feels some sort of bond with it- not only because of the DNA they share- but because they’re both alone. Then again, the spider has probably spent its entire life in this room, and Peter’s only been here- on a whole different continent- for a good couple of hours.

Maybe it’s just the jet lag. According to literally anyone who’s known him at all- he gets adorably grumpy when he hasn’t gotten his beauty sleep (Tony’s words, not his.)

Who does he think he’s kidding? He’s homesick, he’s alone, and he really, really misses Tony. Misses him as in the his heart is literally being torn apart sort of missing. He wishes he’d considered how his severe separation anxiety might play a part in this when he’d still had a choice.

Peter chokes on a whine- the one that forces its way out of his throat until he’s full on sobbing and gasping for breath.

He scrambles for his phone on the nightstand. He needs Tony, he needs him, like a fish needs water. He fumbles with the lock screen and desperately taps on Tony’s icon (a picture of Tony holding a proudly displaying a mug that reads “Number 1 Iron Dad.”) It rings once, twice-

“Pete? How’s it going, kiddie?” Tony’s voice, so gentle, so full of love and concern- he already knows something’s wrong, of course, because his Dad Senses are off the charts- makes the tear in his heart rip open.

“Tony,” he sobs. “Tony. I don’t- I can’t, I can’t do this. I wanna go home, Tony.”

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay Petey, breathe for me okay?” He can hear, just barely over his sobs, that Tony is pacing, can hear that his breathing is just a bit too fast, and Peter feels awful for freaking him out, but just can’t stop crying.

“‘M so sorry,” he wails, “‘M so sorry. I-I wanna go home, I want you Tony.” He grasps his pillow tightly and buries his face in it, trying to stifle his sobs, pretending that Tony is there, wrapping his arms around him, kissing his hair, rocking them back and forth.

“I know, baby, I know,” Tony croons, “Everything’s gonna be okay, we’re okay. Right now I just need you to take a deep breath, buddy- in, two-three, out, two-three, okay?” Tony demonstrates for him, taking exaggerated inhales and exhales, which are probably benefiting him as much as they are Peter. “You’ve got this, Pete, I know you do.”

“I miss you, Tony,” Peter whispers after a few seconds of shaky breathing. “I wanna go home.” He feels so immature, begging Tony to fly across the Atlantic in the dead of night just because he’s a little homesick.

Tony, however, seems to consider his request very seriously. “Do you want me to fly out? I could be there in a few hours.”

Peter almost laughs, imagining Tony arriving to the hotel at daybreak, dressed only in sweatpants and a stained AC/DC t-shirt. It’s actually not a bad idea- Tony could act as a chaperone, they could explore the city together, make another precious memory.

“Yeah, um, that-that would be great, Tony,” he sniffs, wiping the wetness of his cheeks. “A-are you sure? I don’t wanna, like, make you, there’s probably Iron, um, Iron Man things, I don’t-”

“Pete, listen to me,” Tony interrupts, voice again so impossibly gentle. “Nothing- nothing- is more important to me than you, understand? I’m here for you. Always”

Peter smiles wetly, relaxing back into the covers, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I know. Tony?”

“Yeah, bud?

“Can-can you, um, talk? Please?”

“‘Course I can, Pete. What about?” Tony says fondly. The idea that his voice can bring such comfort to this sweet kid makes him feel all… schmoopy.

“Anything. I just… wanna hear your voice, s’all.” He tugs the covers up and curls into a ball, resting the phone on the pillow next to his ear.

“I’ve got you, bud,” Tony says. I miss you too. “Oh, you’ve gotta know what DUM-E did today….”

Peter feels himself relaxing as Tony talks about his day. It’s not just the words that soothe him, but the familiar sound of his warm voice that’s full of such love and affection. His thoughts begin to wander as he drifts into a barely conscious haze, but the voice remains steady and present in his mind.

Tony is quick to notice that Peter is on the precipice of slumber and wakefulness, and is just as quick to provide the last bit of reassurance Peter needs to fall asleep. “Sweet dreams, buddy. I love you,” he murmurs.

Just before Peter slips away, he finds himself slurring, “Love you too.”

Tony stays on the call for a solid ten minutes after Peter conks out, listening to the steady whoosh of his breathing against the speaker. Before he finally makes himself hang up, he whispers a quiet, “‘Night, Petey. I’ll be there before you know it.” Tony leaves for the airport at daybreak, not able to spend another second in that horribly empty penthouse. The absence of Peter’s presence is tremendously obvious, and Tony finds himself desperately trying not to imagine the unimaginable.

~~~~~

With a pilot on-call 24-7, and without the hassles of a public airport, he’ll be back with Peter around early afternoon.

Thank god.

He steps out of the Cadillac, barely noticing the blistering wind and the tiny snowflakes biting at his cheeks in his haste to board the plane. He greets the pilot- Allison, he thinks- with a nod, but she gestures to stop when he moves towards the stairs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark!” she says over the howling wind. “We just can’t fly in this weather!”

To hell with that, Tony thinks. “When’s it letting up?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Stark,” Allison says apologetically. “Not for a few days at least.”

Tony activates the suit with a simple tap of his watch, the nanobots rushing over him within seconds. Allison gasps and jumps back, gaping as he rockets into the air.

He’s been flying for a good 50 seconds before a neon red warning lights up the HUD.

“Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y says, tone filled with caution. “The wind is blowing at a speed of 78 mph. I must advise that you return to the ground immediately, or you run the risk of losing control of the suit.”

Tony curses loudly. Just his luck, really. “How high is the risk?”

“89%, boss.”

“So, not all that bad,” he chuckles.

Then, F.R.I.D.A.Y reminds him how devastated Peter would be if anything happened to him.

Tony returns to his car on foot and pulls out his phone to call Peter.

~~~~~

Peter basks in the sunlight outside of a bustling café, sipping from a cup of hot chocolate. He’s ordered a chocolate croissant, and added the tasteless protein powder Tony and Bruce had synthesized to keep up with his spidey metabolism to his mug. Despite the jet lag, he’s eager to explore the city and it’s merits, his enthusiasm only growing knowing that Tony will be here within a few hours.

Feeling pleasantly full, Peter leans back in his chair- it’s an armchair, on a stool, and it’s driving him nuts, he loves it- and beams at Ned, who lounges next to him in an identical chair. “Dude,” he says.

“Dude,” Ned agrees.

Peter is grinning, Ned is grinning, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, life is sweet-

Peter’s phone rings.

His first thought is that Tony’s plane has crashed.

His second is one of relief when he realizes it’s Tony who’s calling him.

His third is that his plane has crashed, and Tony’s calling him, mortally wounded, to say goodbye.

Ned stares at him, taking in the panicked look on his face, and mouths You good? Peter shakes his head and scrabbles for his phone.

“Pete?” Tony says as soon as he’s answered. He sounds fine, at least. “Hiya.”

“Are you okay?” Peter asks first, because he knows that even if Tony sounds like he’s fine, that doesn’t mean he is.

“Yeah. Yeah, Petey, I’m just fine, I promise,” Tony assures him. Peter relaxes in his chair, flashing Ned a quick thumbs up, because knows Tony would never lie to him, especially not if he was hurt. “How’re you doin’?”

Peter’s face lights up. “Oh, great! There are like, dogs everywhere here, even in the restaurants, and I saw this German Shepherd eating like- dog ice cream or something? And I got this super good chocolate croissant where we’re having breakfast. Y’know, I really thought the jet lag would be super bad but I’m not like, tired at all yet!”

“Aw, buddy, that’s great, I’m glad you’re havin’ a good time,” Tony says, voice dripping with fondness. “You’re drinking enough water, staying hydrated and all that, right?”

“Yup! Are you?”

Tony scoffs. “‘Course I am. Hafta set a good example n’ shi- stuff.” Peter snorts. He knows Tony does his best not to curse around his- and he quotes- “young, unsullied ears" but he ends up failing quite a lot.

“Which reminds me bud, how’s Ted?” Peter’s best friend’s health has pretty much no correlation with cursing, which makes the teen think that Tony has a specific reason for asking about him. He decides not to bring it up though.

“It’s Ned,” he sighs in mock frustration. And he’s good, he’s right next to me! I guess I didn’t tell you yesterday, but the hotel guy put us into two different rooms ‘cause they had extra or something and we didn’t realize ‘til we got to our rooms.” He sighs again then, for real, his good mood evaporating.

Tony’s Dad Senses pick up on it instantaneously. “Not ideal, huh?” he says gently, which earns him a small laugh from the kid. “D’you want me to talk to them?”

Peter nods sheepishly, then realizes Tony can’t see him. “Yeah. Thank you,” he says in a small voice, embarrassed that the genius is going to all this trouble just because he’s a little lonely. “Are you gonna be here soon?” he asks then, because he misses Tony, misses him just like he knows Tony is missing him.

Tony clears his throat. When he speaks, the guilt in his voice could rip him in half. “About that, buddy, well- Jesus, Pete, I’m so sorry. The, uh, the wind is too dangerous for me to fly over, and it’s not letting up ‘til around Monday. I’m so sorry, kiddo.”

Peter’s heart sinks. “Oh,” he says numbly.

He hears Tony lurch up. “Hey, Petey- shit, I’m so sorry, buddy. I- you know what, fuck it, I’ll fly over anyway, I-”

“No! No, I’m okay, I’m fine!” Peter says, wincing silently at the forced cheeriness in his voice, and knowing that Tony has seen right through.

“Hey, hey, buddy, it’s okay, I’ll be perfectly safe-”

“You can’t,” Peter pleads, desperate to keep Tony safe. “Please, Tony, you can’t, you’ll crash, or-”

“Whoa, Petey, deep breaths,” Tony interrupts, voice gentle. “I’m right here, I’m fine, you hear me?” He waits for Peter’s breathing to resume a steady rate, then says, “Bub, I won’t fly over if it’s not safe, I promise.”

Peter sighs. He’s relieved beyond belief that Tony is keeping both feet on the ground where he’ll be safe- he better be- but he misses the billionaire more than ever.

“And hey, who knows, maybe the wind’ll let up in a few hours!” Tony chuckles. Sobering a little, he says, “If the weather is on schedule, I’ll be there on Monday, 6 am, sharp.”

Peter prays he will. “I miss you, Tony,” he mumbles- he feels childish, knowing that he’s just begged the man to stay in New York, and now is just making him more miserable knowing that he’s miserable.

“I miss you too, Petey,” the genius murmurs back, voice filled with sorrow.

“Peter!” The phone nearly flies out of Peter’s hand as Mr. Harrington taps on his shoulder. He gasps a little, and though his teacher doesn’t seem to notice, Tony sure does, his gentle voice turning harsh with barley contained panic. “Who was that, Pete? Are you okay?”

“Um-” he tries.

“Come on, now! The bus is almost here, I can see it around the corner!” Mr. Harrington says loudly, and abruptly struts off, frantically waving down the bus that is already stopping.

“Peter!” Tony exclaims.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it was just Mr. Harrington,” he rushes to reassure him. Tony breathes out a heavy sigh of relief. “Uh, the bus is here, I- I have to go.” He hurries to catch up with his best friend.

“I love you,” Tony says. “I love you so much, Pete, stay out of trouble, be safe.”

He doesn’t want to say goodbye. Neither of them do.

“I love you, Tony,” says Peter. “I’ll be safe, don’t worry about me!”

And with that, the call ends.

#wip #chapter 2 #peter parker #tony stark #protective tony stark #worried tony stark #anxious peter parker #irondad #spiderson #roger harrington #ned leeds #anxiety #anxious thoughts #spider-man #iron man #st*rkers dni

[thelittlebirdwriter]

The Replacement Spidey (part 2)

tasm!peter x reader

an: tWoOo chapters? In one day?! yes now hush. i had it written already. will be updating masterlist and stuff after i post this. enjoy! (btw the story doesn't exactly follow nwh canon)

Warnings: NWH SPOLIERS!!!! Talk of death and mourning, Violence? and cursing (*LaNgUaGe!*)

Read Part 1 here

●○●○

"Spider-Man's TRUE identity is Peter Parker! A murderer! A liar! He KILLED Mysterio!" I blanched. How did they find out? I made sure no one knew. How could they call Peter a murderer? What the hell is wrong with these peo-

A face flashed on the screen. That definitely was NOT Peter Parker. What the actual fuck is going on here.

***

I covered my Spider-Man suit with one of Peter's hoodies that I kept in my backpack. It would probably be less than ideal to parade around in a Spidey suit right now.

I pulled out my notepad, scribbling down some questions.

1. Who is Mysterio?

2. Find this Peter Parker kid

3. Where the FUCK am I, and how do I get home?

I sighed, pocketing the notebook, and started my walk down the streets. Might as well see if they have any of the same restaurants.

***

I am going to commit a murder. I am acutally going to kill someone.

Not only do they not have the best bakery in all of Queens, but in its place, there's a MOTHERFUCKING TACO BELL?!

I am going to go absolutely fucking feral. This is bullshit. This is an actual fucking war crime. I'm-

Oh fuck. My entire life flashed before my eyes, and then someone's staircase.

Crash. Thump. Thud. Ow.

I sat up, dizzy.

"Jeez, are you okay? That was quite the fall." said an older man dressed like a youth pastor.

" 'm fine" I slurred, poking at a rib that was probably at the least bruised, before glancing up at the traitorous portal that threw me down a set of stairs. The portal fizzled shut. "Anyone mind telling me where the hell I am?"

"Are you another Peter?" asked a shorter teenage boy.

"Am I a...I'm sorry, am I a what?"

"Is your name Peter Parker?" asked the older man.

"No, I'm...wait, wha do you know of Peter Parker?" I asked quickly.

"I am Peter Parker." the man replied.

"Uh-huh. And I'm the Archangel Fucking Gabriel. Is this some kind of sick joke? Some delusional fucking fever dream?"

The two teens and "Peter" looked very confused. "I can promise you, this is very real." The supposed Peter Parker said kindly.

"You're a liar" I spat. "Peter Parker has been dead for ten years."

"Peter" gave a shocked, then saddened look. "Your Peter died?" he asked, sympathetic.

"What do you mean 'My Peter'?"

"There's a...multiverse? And more than one variant of Peter Parker." The younger boy added.

"A multiverse." I said, deadpan. They nodded. "So riddle me this, how many 'variants' of my dead boyfriend are here, exactly?"

"At least 3"

"of fucking course." I murmured to myself

"There's no reason to be rude about it." The teenage girl spoke up.

"You would be too, if you were just thrown down the stairs into God Knows Where, in what is definitely NOT your New York, and the first thing you heard when you got to said New York was someone broadcasting the secret identity of your dead superhero boyfriend." That shut them up quickly.

"Well, I know this isn't ideal, but we will find a way to" older Peter variant was cut off by someone in a Spidey suit swinging through the window. Great, another one, I thought to myself.

"Good news, guys!" The newcomer cried. I almsot felt like I recognized that voice. And the suit-

No, that's impossible.

"I found the-" The newcomer stopped in their tracks, staring at me. He tugged his mask off, with a soft whisper of my name.

"P-Peter?"

●○●○

dhakhdkahdja i hope you liked it!!

might post part 3 later idk

shoot me an ask to be added to the taglist!

#tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #peter parker x you

[inkdemonapologist]

We briefly split up while trying to get murder mystery clues in our latest batim cthulhu session; Team Polite Boys is ready to go!!

More out-of-context quotes from last session under the cut!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Joey] Yeah, that makes sense, he probably would've pocketed it, [Sammy] aRE YOU STEALING?! [Henry] Joey!!! [Joey] I mean...................................yeah,

[Joey] He just wants to find the slick stone, and fix things, and go back to being an animation studio! That'd be nice! [GM] The eternal dream... [Jack] Animation studio, and then it has a little asterisk, and in the fine print it mentions that they also deal in the occult. [Joey] Just a little bit. [Jack] Little an occult, [Sammy] As a treat! [Joey] The occult does not own more than 5% of Joey Drew Studios stock. [GM] ...Is that Prophet Sammy's share, [Joey] He DOES seem to be the one investing in it the most!!

[Joey] There's definitely room for Jack to speak up as the one who knows Peter, but Joey is just going to go up to the front desk -- [Sammy] (Joey has now met him, so it's less weird,) [Joey] -- and ask if Petey is around! [Sammy] (...oh my goodness, Joey,)

[GM, as Peter] "And I could find someone to be a guide for you tomorrow, be less likely to fall in a sinkhole." [Joey] *thoughtfully* I do like not falling in sinkholes,

[Jack] *rolls* Aww.... [GM] Uh-oh, [Jack] No, it's-- it's not a failed roll. I thought it was very briefly and, gOT MY HOPES UP I GUESS???

[Joey] But that's going to be a very.... difficult............ [Sammy] I dunno, maybe Henry can talk to Fowler. Henry's like......... a,, caring person! Henry knows how families work.... Has, empathy,,, [Joey] Just send Henry and Jack to go talk with Fowler, and Joey and Sammy go.... sit on their hands. Don't do anything. DON'T MAKE THINGS WORSE

[GM] Mostly he's known for having more money than sense-- [Joey] (More dollars than cents? :D ) [Sammy] Well, you should get along great.

[Jack] Team Sad Boys to the sad boy, and... Team No Sense,

[Joey] Hey, can we borrow a brain cell? [Sammy] No, we only have one! That's why we never split up!!

[Henry] Jack is wondering how these guys got through Haiti. [Sammy] Well. It took us ten tries.

[after reading Alice in Wonderland] [Jack] *laughing* Do I need to roll a sanity check? [GM] One thing at a time; let me do a little typing-- [Jack] Oh bOY! ....I was just making a funny joke...! [GM] *sends secret message* Okay! [Jack] OH BOY,,, Jack just wanted a nice way to fill the time... [GM] Uh, do make a sanity check.

[Joey] Maybe it's because Joey has Bendy in him, that he can't see something in that book. [Sammy] (Hmm....... Bendy-Vision.........) [Sammy] (!!!! SILLYVISION)

[Sammy] Gonna tell Joey to, don't look up at the door, [Joey] Joey will almost start to look, and then catch himself the moment he realises why Sammy might be telling him this. [GM] This is why the Lurker covered his eyes that other time!!! [Joey] LiSTEN,

[Joey] ...I just noticed Joey fits the Gays Don't Drive thing...

[Sammy] Sammy looks very suspicious, but that's just his face.

[Joey] I like how Sammy apparently has ink-sense now, like spidey-sense [Sammy] YeaH ITS GREAT!!!! Sammy's very stressed!!!!!

[Joey] Once they've left the mansion and gotten far enough away, Joey's going to drop his over-friendly demeanour for a moment and mutter that he hates people like that guy. [GM] .............................................. is this a Kyle, [Joey] YES.

[Jack] I assume that Joey has given us money, at some point? [Joey] [Jack] He's not just expecting us to fund this out of our pocket, hopefully??? [Joey] ............................ has anyone brought this up to Joey,

[Henry] What insanity did Jack pick up, by the way? [Jack] Hmm.... [Jack] [Jack] Oh, y'know,

[Henry] Roll Charm to start a conversation in a normal, non-awkward way!!

[Jack] A nice change of topic to-- maybe not lighten the mood, but, [Sammy] dredge the mood up from the bottom of the lake,

[Joey] He keeps his hand on Sammy, trying to be reassuring that he's there to help Sammy with this, but also making sure it still looks NOT IN A GAY WAY, as much as Joey Drew can do.

[GM] Okay, one sec. [Joey] .....the longer we sit here waiting, the more I recalibrate that scene I just described to be gayer and gayer. [Sammy] Oh no. You have to hurry, or else it'll be retconned until they're making out on the porch when Joey knocks!

[Joey] I did hear that this guy is quite handsome, but I think right now Joey's too concerned about Sammy to play into Charm. [GM] Charm the... recent widower??? That seems.... [Joey] Yeah, y'know, as you do-- it could work! Just because his family is dead doesn't mean he's dead! [Sammy] Joey. [Jack] This IS Joey "Flirts With A Married Man" Drew, [GM] TRUE. That's true.

[GM] Fowler knows this spiritual consultant is legitimate because he's put him in contact with his family, that had recently passed away, on more than one occasion. [Henry] (Passed away on more than one occasion? Man, that's rough.) [Sammy] (I mean, we've done that!) [Henry] We have! It's rough!!

[GM, as Fowler] "A lot of newbies think magic feels weird when they're not used to it, y'know." [Sammy] Sammy's response is going to be to make uncomfortable eye contact, for a very long time.

[Sammy] Let me poll the audience: Should I be stopping Trenchcoat. [Jack] Out of character, I want to say, hesitantly no? [Henry] Yeah, same. [Sammy] I'm way more suspicious of Fowler than Trenchcoat, weirdly. [Henry] I want to let Trenchcoat go, and then track him down and grill him later. [Jack] I feel like Trenchcoat is suspicious in the same way that we're suspicious. [Sammy] YES.

[GM] I do appreciate that you guys were like "this guy's a shoplifter" and then promptly shoplifted.

[Joey] Why are you everywhere that we are? [GM, as Trenchcoat Guy] "I could ask you the same thing," he remarks, seeming vaguely amused. [Joey] Well I asked it first!!!

[Trenchcoat Guy describes the teleportation portal into Fowler's basement] [Joey] Okay, that is... that is definitely suspicious, [Sammy] "sUSPICIOUS?!?"

[Sammy] Sammy is squinting at Joey as he leaves.... [Sammy] ...OH, [Sammy] Oh he needs a drink I bet; I'm not going to look at him actually, never mind. [Jack] ...I know you said "Not going to look at him” -- I briefly misheard as "Not going to lick him" [Sammy] I'm alSO NOT GOING TO DO THAT,

[GM] He says that until today, you guys were the most suspicious thing he'd come across. [Sammy] I mean... he's not wrong.

[Joey] (Does someone want to grab his contact information) [Sammy] Oh, Jack, do you want to do that? [Jack] Jack is... going to... not do that, [Sammy] ...oh. [Sammy] ...............is Jack okay?!

[Joey] And then Joey... grabs Henry? [GM] Henry is just getting hugged. [Joey] Ah. [Henry] Oh, hugs back! [Henry] He's hugging both of them, I'm guessing.

[GM] The Lurker sits down on the ground. [Joey] (Does he sit down normally for a person,) [GM] He just kind of falls backwards. And then goes "Ow!" [Henry] *laughs* Yeah, you can't do that when you're more than 3 feet tall.

[Jack] Concerned Jack faces.... I was going to say noises, but,

[Jack] Did we ever get Trenchcoat's name? [Sammy] No. [Joey] No. [Henry] He's the new Binoculars. [Sammy] I'm delighted every time Sammy gets to call someone Not Their Name.

[GM] It's just a normal, scrawled address, for a Mr. Polk. [Sammy] .........is it really, [GM] Yes. [Sammy] OH GOOD??? I didn't say it, but for the first paragraph of that audiolog I was like "nORMAN???" [Joey] .... AW, NOW I HAVE TO HIRE HIM!!! THREN!!!!! [Sammy] Oh he was working with microfilm too! So he could probably-- [Henry] It sounded like he was gonna be out of a job soon, [Joey] DAMMIT!!

#call of cthulu: haunted hijinx #Jack Fain #Henry Stein #when in doubt just keep drawing #this session was a heckin delight #everyone is Doing Their Best

[cassiecasyl]

nibble, nibble, little spider

By @cassiecasyl for @an-odd-idea 

Rating: Teen and Up  Relationships: Peter & Morgan, Peter & Tony  Characters: Peter Parker, Morgan Stark, Tony Stark, a witch  Summary: Peter and Morgan are lost in a forest, alone and hungry when they stumble upon a house made of bread and candy. It couldn’t harm to take a bite, could it? Well, yes, it very much could. 

Hunger weaved through the trees, riding on the wind directly into Peter’s lungs, causing the boy to cough. It was a screaming and scratching complaint of displacement. His stomach rumbled in answer to its sneaking sibling. Peter stumbled from the effects of their argument, catching himself against a trunk. The bark tickled his senses, the rough surface scratching at his skin. He recoiled from the sensation. The quick motion made him sway, and he fell back against the very thing he tried to avoid. He didn’t know what was wrong. He just felt so—

“Peter?” Morgan asked, watching him with big, brown eyes. They were the perfect mix of Tony’s eye color and Pepper’s concerned expression stabbing right into him. He could see the same pain reflected back at him. Peter closed his eyes. 

“I’m fine,” he assured her. 

She moved closer and leaned against his leg, tucking at his shirt. His spidey senses barely objected, uselessly hiding behind a headache. Peter looked down at his adoptive sister. Her intensive gaze looked right through his lies in the same way her father always did. They were heartbreakingly similar. 

“Can you try your phone again?” she asked, searching for hope. Peter fumbled it out of his pocket with shaking fingers and blinked against the artificial light. His heart sank into the void the lack of bars at the top of the screen signaled. He sighed. “Still no signal.” Morgan deflated slightly. 

Peter tried to swipe over to the GPS settings, to maybe get some information this way, but right as he did the screen froze. He grunted in frustration, shaking the device lightly. His head pounded as if obnoxiously cheering the phone on. Peter remembered the time he had landed near a stadium during one of his sensitive episodes, leading him right into a sensory overload then and there. -20/10, would not recommend. He’d needed two days in the soundproof tower to recover from that before even trying to go into louder environments again. 

Peter winced as the screen suddenly flashed bright with an app loading screen before turning completely black. Great. Any buttons proved useless. “Looks like it’s dead,” he confessed to Morgan. She nodded bravely, clearly holding back tears, little erosions in Peter’s heart.  

Peter slid down the trunk, shuddering at the sensation, until he was on eye level with her. He stretched out his arm, nudging Morgan closer and into his embrace. She buried her face in the nook of his neck as she cried. “It’s gonna be alright,” Peter promised, rocking her gently, “Tony will find us, you’ll see.” 

“Dad can fix everything,” she mumbled into the hug and Peter chuckled. 

“That’s right! So don’t give up hope, Mo.” 

They stayed in the relative silence the forest provided for a while. Peter stared up into the leaf-obstructed sky, the gears in his head scraping by just barely. The leaves whisper-sung false promises, inviting him to climb up towards the first stars visible in the darkening sky. He entertained the thought of climbing up to see where the damn woods ended, but the bark’s texture made him want to crawl out of his own skin. His stomach acted up again, not a fan of possible altitude, and his headache became nauseating in a warning. He hated it when his body conspired against him. But, he also couldn’t just leave Morgan alone on the ground. Especially not with night approaching. 

“I’m hungry,” whispered Morgan. 

“I know, Mo,” Peter answered and rubbed her back soothingly. There was nothing he could do. If only he knew enough about flora to know what was safe to eat. Though they didn’t have the option to wash whatever they found, adding further danger. “I’m too.” 

The nagging feeling only grew as they sat there, calling and pulling them away, as it caught them with an invisible string. It was a weird by-taste of hunger, one Peter had never experienced before. If they were at home - where he knew where to find food - the pull would make sense, but here, in the middle of nowhere, it puzzled him. He couldn’t even remember how they got here. All there was, was the forest and hunger, slowly taking over them. His spider sense buzzed loudly, sounding slightly like a radio without a proper signal. He wondered dully whether ghosts could speak through it. 

Suddenly, Morgan sat up, tearing Peter from his dazed thoughts. “I know what we have to do!” she exclaimed, standing up. “We can only follow the path we know,” she said and took off. Peter scrambled to his feet. 

“Wait, Mo,” he called out, “What do you mean?” The girl didn’t answer. 

The hunger’s call became louder as they walked. Peter could almost hear it now, the ringing in his ears resembling more and more a feast. He meant to smell chocolate and his stomach grumbled as if to ask how much longer? Huh, he realized, Morgan must feel it too. 

Old leaves crackled underneath their feet, a crystal clear signal of where they were. A deer looked up a few trees over, mustering them before fleeing, its flock following. But Morgan paid it no mind as she walked towards her goal with Peter on her heels. 

The boy couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It felt like a trap almost, leaving them no choice but to fall for it to survive. His dizzy mind screamed for food, growing more excited the more signs of it hit Peter’s senses. 

They came to a brook and Peter signaled for Mo to stop. He leaned down to drink, hoping the water would quill some of the overwhelming hunger he felt. It was better than nothing. Underneath the pull, his stomach ached, begging, as if what had been there before was only a phantom, an illusion rather than the real thing. Peter blinked. 

A bird landed on the other side of the stream, picking at something on the ground. The spider looked up, meeting the animal’s eyes just for a moment, before it rustled its feathers and took off, carrying a big breadcrumb in its beak. Something was definitely wrong. 

Something about this all rang a bell, but he couldn’t find it. It rang and rang, a warning of impending nightfall, so annoying Peter wished he could just turn the sound off. It didn’t help in the slightest with remembering. An old story, he mused. A fairy tale, maybe?  

“Morgan?” he called, but she didn’t answer. He spun around, almost hitting a tree as he swayed in response. He felt sick and weak, and the moss on the ground looked so invitingly soft. He briefly closed his eyes in an attempt to regain focus. Morgan. Where was Morgan? She couldn’t be gone. Mr. Stark would kill him. His mind conjured up her image, covered in blood, gnaw marks on breaking her tender skin, half-rotten. His stomach grumbled, sending everything it had upwards, a meek army marching to attack his mind. Not one soldier passed the cavity of his mouth. 

“Morgan?” he called again after swallowing, panic inviting nausea to dance. 

“Peter, look!” the girl's voice finally sounded to the right of him. Peter breathed and steadied himself with the aid of a tree. Nodding a short thanks to his involuntary crutch, he stepped into the bushes to find his little sister. 

Now that he was back on the path, his muscles didn’t protest as much anymore. A strange peace joined the hunger-inducing air, washing over him and taking his care. Like gravity, he was pulled towards a place in the middle of the woods, and tired as Peter was, he let himself fall right into it. 

The woods smelled like freshly baked bread, like those obnoxiously sweet candies Morgan loved, like the brownies Happy baked one time, the best goddamn brownies he had ever eaten, like the hot chocolate he would drink with May on late nights when they would just talk and catch up with each other or simply enjoy each other’s company. 

Peter was positively drooling, sludging out into the little opening. A house stood there, idyllic in the middle of the forest, glowing with magic, promising every meal Peter had ever had and more. Its walls were covered with a little flour like a bread’s crust, and Peter could see the softness inside from where something had bitten into it. The windows were adorned with sugar, whipped cream, and colorfully sprinkled candies. The roof was the color of Minecraft’s dark oak, sturdy and soft. Peter reached up and broke off a piece before he could think. Morgan grinned at him, stuffing her mouth with candy. He tiredly smiled at her, taking in her happiness, gleaming louder than the sun. It was all washed away as the brownie roof touched his tongue. It was just the right temperature and consistency, and it filled his mouth with the taste of chocolate without being overly sticky. It was heavenly, it was every peaceful late night conversation and every birthday party combined. This was what ambrosia must taste like. 

His mind stopped screaming, and he was wholly content in his body with only one bite. The overwhelming hunger was suddenly satisfied, yet his stomach still rumbled. He didn’t feel it. Peter looked at the piece of heaven in his hand, smiling brightly in childish wonder. He wanted more. So, he devoured it and took another piece from the house. 

Dully, shushed by peace, a noise drummed on in the back of his head. It was hidden behind a labyrinth, closed off by heavy prison doors. It didn’t matter. Yet, why was it loud enough to bug him? Why couldn’t it just shut up? He rolled his eyes and reached out towards the soft bread wall. 

But, before his fingers touched the food, he stopped. This was wrong. He was stealing, wasn’t he? The buzzing grew louder. A warning. It was his spider senses, Peter then realized. They were in danger. He turned towards Morgan, panic slowly overriding the happiness, weaseling past every magic firewall. He opened his mouth to call out to her. They needed to go, to get away from here. 

“Knusper, Knusper, Knäuschen, wer knuspert an meinem Häuschen?” a high, scratchy voice sang behind them. Peter froze in horror. “Or should I say ‘nibble, nibble, little mouse, who’s nibbling at my house’? Such a peculiar translation…” 

~~~

A warning was drumming on his head, shaking him until he blinked his eyes open against the stabbing light. It roasted him and hung him up to cool down. Peter groaned. A stagger of noise opened his skull, and he flinched. Only after a moment did he recognize words, let alone the voice. 

“Let him out!” Morgan demanded with as much rage as the five-year-old could muster. Which was a lot, Peter knew from experience. She was an angry embodiment of human wrath, her narrow eyes staring down the witch towering above her. Morgan did not back down. 

“I can’t do that, Sweety. It’s for your own good,” the witch talked down to her with a voice like sugary wood. A shudder ran through Peter as he remembered the rough bark under his hands outside. He clenched his teeth, waiting for an onslaught of pain from somewhere as he slowly sat up. 

“He’s my brother,” Morgan argued, “let him out!” Her eyes turned the sunlight into weapons. The witch, a shadow, did not yet realize the danger she was subjected herself to, as self-assured as she was. 

“He is corrupted,” the witch judged, “You, on the other hand, are still young, little lady.” 

Morgan blinked up at her. “Do you know who my dad is? He’s Iron Man. He’s a hero. And he’s gonna come and rescue us,” she threatened. 

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” Her smile sent little spiders crawling down Peter’s back. They examed the walls of his cage for any way of escape, the tiniest crack, but ultimately, they gave up and settled in the farthest corner. She mustered Peter with predatory eyes, pressing her lips together in disappointment. “It’s really a shame you’re all muscle and bone. It’ll take longer to get you tender enough for the grand meal.” 

Peter’s wide eyes met Morgan’s deer-ey ones as they processed the words. “You don’t wanna fight Iron Man,” the girl threatened again. 

The witch sighed. “This is gonna be harder than I expected. He’s really grown his vines around you, didn’t he?” 

“What’s your plan here?” Peter asked. “Kidnapping children, provoking Iron Man while you’re at it, and now what? Waiting for your trial?” 

The witch laughed. “Stark’s a warmonger, but I am not afraid of him.” She quenched any protest from the kids with her next words: “He’s only made himself believe that he’s better now, that he somehow redeemed himself. It’s a mask. We’ll see how good the great Tony Stark really is soon enough.” 

She turned to her sugar windows as a crow landed on the windowsill, picking up some bread crumbs that had fallen from the damaged wall. Her yellow teeth showed in her evil smile, and Peter suddenly felt very self-conscious about the fact that he hadn’t brushed his teeth since the day before. Granted he hadn’t lost more time unconscious in a crazy fairytale witch’s cage. 

“Frolick, my children, he is on his way,” she cheered, spinning around in a dance towards the stove in the corner. “We will have a grant meal to greet the powerful.” Peter strained his ears in hopes of hearing the familiar sound of repulsors. He wanted to scream out, get out himself so Tony wouldn’t have to walk into this weird trap. He wasn’t even sure what the witch’s plan really was. 

The witch grabbed Morgan’s hand and pulled her with her. The girl struggled, hitting and scratching, grounding her feet into the ground as much as she could. She looked back at Peter in pure fear, mouthing a word. Peter frowned at her. 

“A wild one, are we?” The witch addressed Morgan, leaning down to her level. The girl spat at her. “Now, this is really not a way for a lady to behave,” the witch chastised, sighing. “Maybe you’re further gone than I thought. I really had faith… Maybe, we will have you for dessert.” 

Finally, Morgan tore her hand free. She stepped back, suppressing a shiver. “You’re joking like a pirate,” she said, emphasizing the last word and waving one hand at Peter behind her back. Peter frowned, and then observed the cell door he was sitting in front of. Half pin barrel hinges. With the right kind of leverage, he could open them no problem. They had recently watched the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie, much to Happy’s dismay, but Peter couldn’t be prouder of Morgan at that moment. 

He examined his cell as inconspicuously as he could. There was a blank in the corner, probably meant as a sort of bed, with stains Peter rather wouldn’t know about. He grabbed and pulled at it, and, with a crank, it broke free. Unfortunately, it also brought attention to him. 

“What are you doing?” With two big steps, she stood next to him behind the bars. Peter kept still, ignoring her to the best of his abilities. Morgan followed her and then clung to her hand demandingly. It did nothing but annoy the hag more. “I asked you a question, boy. What are you doing?” She spat out every word, spelling it out for him. 

Peter shrugged and finally looked up at her. “I just thought, if you plan on keeping me here, I might as well redecorate.” Morgan snorted and quickly ducked to avoid the veiny hand flying her way. 

“Do you think this is funny? Tony Stark waged war and I’m going to give him what he’s earned and you think this is all a joke?” Peter shook his head, slightly retreating. “And you, little lady, are truly your father’s daughter, aren’t you? I thought there was hope for you, other than for the boy who got drawn into the family that he doesn’t share blood with, but it seems it’s already too late.” 

She grabbed Morgan in retaliation, holding her even tighter than before. The girl screamed out in surprise and pain before going back to fighting. Suddenly, a rope snaked into the air and approached them curiously. It gently wrapped around Morgan, keeping her in place. The tears on his sister’s face might as well have been acid poured over Peter’s head. 

The witch sighed. “I should’ve done this earlier.” She turned to Peter then. “And now to you…” 

“Let her go,” Peter demanded. “You can do whatever you want with me, just, please, let her go.” 

“The time of bargaining has long passed, boy.” She looked back at the giant pot on the stove. “It’s time to get to work.” The door creaked as it opened, as ominously warning and high-pitched as his spidey sense. He stumbled backward, more crawling than walking, until the wall stopped him. It was giving into his touch, and it took all in Peter to not recoil from the touch that felt a little too much like mold. 

The rope peered over the witch’s shoulder, mustering its prey. Just as she reached out to grab his hand, Peter opened his mouth in protest and let the first words that came to his mind tumble out. “Do you know the Muffin Man?” 

The witch stopped mid-motion. “The Muffin Man?” she asked with raised eyebrows, entirely bamboozled. 

“Yeah, the Muffin Man,” Peter repeated, allowing himself to breathe a little, “You know, the one who lives on Drury Lane?” The hag’s eyes narrowed at those words and Peter suppressed a flinch. Fuck. 

“This is another of your jokes, isn’t it?” Before he could answer, the rope shot forward, rolling tightly around him, leaving no place for air. Soon enough, he joined Morgan on the floor, just as Peter’s ears picked up a familiar, wheezing sound. 

“I’m sorry,” Morgan whispered. 

Peter shrugged to the best of his abilities. “It was worth a try.” 

~~~

A knock on the door disrupted the sharp, unruly tension in the room. Peter tried to breathe, hoping, knowing it to be Tony. He heard the telltale sound of the repulsor de-powering and the suit landing. Yet, fear still continued its marathon through his veins. 

The witch sighed. “It’s a real shame,” she mumbled, “I will have to cook you with magic. Things always taste better if you let them cook naturally, but he’s not giving me much of a choice, is he?”  A shudder ran through the siblings’ bodies. 

“You could also just not cook us. Just a suggestion, you know,” Peter spoke up, earning a slap. Heavy air climbed onto his tongue, rolling up and falling asleep like a cat. He opened his mouth again, but nothing came out except for a quiet grunt. The witch was clearly amused by his attempts to speak. Without another word, she turned around and opened the door just wide enough to slip out. 

“Hello, Forest Lady,” Tony greeted the witch, “I’m searching for two kids. Have you seen—” 

“Well, if it isn’t the great Tony Stark.” Peter could hear the malicious grin in her voice. “The fabled merchant of death.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony dismissed her, “Listen, there are two kids missing, it’d be a great help if you could just tell me— Wait a minute, what did you just call me?” 

“You are who they call the merchant of death, are you not?” 

Tony was stunned into silence. Peter strained to hear his quickening heartbeat, wanting to cry out, Tony, we’re here, don’t listen to her!, but the airy cat on his tongue wouldn’t budge. Everybody knows that one doesn’t wake a cat, even if they trap you, and the spell took it to another level. It didn’t stop him from trying, however. The rope hit his thigh, annoyed by his constant movement. 

“That’s what they used to say, yeah,” Tony now admitted, “now they call me ‘Earth’s best defender.’” His cocky voice could not hide the anxiety in his veins, not to Peter. 

“Still, you’re wrapped in armor and weapons,” the witch pointed out. 

“Look, it’s not my job to justify myself to random women I encountered in the woods, which is not something that happens a lot, I must say. Actually, I think this is the first time. I’ve got better things to do at the moment. I’m looking for two kids, a girl of five years and a boy of 16. Have you seen them?” 

“Tony Stark, always so ready to fight,” the witch said, completely disregarding his recent words, “Take off that armor and I might tell you.” 

“So you know where they are,” he stated. Peter closed his eyes, letting the familiar clank of the Iron Man suit lull him in, but instead, it just cut into his skin. They were so close. So close to being found, so close to being rescued. 

“I was just preparing dinner. Why don’t you just sit down and stay? It’ll only take a few minutes.” The witch’s steps were silent on the grass. Tony’s vibrated through the ground, which meant he was still in his suit. 

“Now wait just a moment here, lady. You know where my kids are. Why don’t you tell me?” 

“You’re a warmonger, Tony Stark. Why would you ever think I’d leave kids in your care?” Peter laughed out loud in irony, but it was muffled by winding fur catching in his fur. Coughing made it only worse, so he took a deep and slow breath to take back control. 

Tony sighed. Iron Man opened his suit, and it cracked and screeched slightly, and Peter was reminded of the joint he had been meant to oil. His heart sank. “There, I’m out of the suit. Now, will you tell me where my kids are?” 

After a moment of silence, the witch asked: “Did you ever count?” 

“Count what?” 

“How many children were killed with your weapons.” Peter sucked in a breath in shock. 

“Roughly 2.47 million people were killed by Stark missiles. Approximately 9.4% were kids. Probably more. It’s hard to tell. Plus, about 50 billion dollars damage to property—”

“Money,” the witch spat out, “Of course you care about the money more.” 

“It’s just easier to estimate that number,” Tony tried to defend himself, but the witch wouldn’t hear it. 

“All that money will never buy back your soul,” she judged. With that, she walked back to the door, leaving Tony to stand outside. Peter stared at her through tears as she came inside. He almost missed the slight hand wave she pointed at the door, presumably to prevent Tony from following her. 

He changed, you know, he wanted to tell her, but still found his tongue pinned down. He’s a better man now. He’s not responsible for his father’s sins and being dragged into that business. 

The witch glared at him. “Don’t fool yourself, boy. Stark has blood on his hands. People like that don’t change.” Peter blinked up at her in surprise. 

You can hear me. 

The witch groaned and rolled her eyes. “You’re too loud,” she decided and grabbed him by the living rope enwrapping him. Peter tried to kick her, but it was more a battle with the snake of a rope than with the witch. She laid him down next to the stove. The steam from the pot wandered down to caress his cheeks, whispering false welcomes into his over-heating ears. He was sweating, staring into the fire that burned high in the fireplace opposite the kitchen. The taunting flames danced, showing off their relation to hell. 

“Stark Tower is falling down, falling down, falling down. Stark Tower is falling down, my fair lady,” the witch sang quietly as she prepared the last few things. Peter couldn’t tell whether the shiver he felt was from the sweat cooling his skin or from fear. 

Finally, the rope loosened. He stretched his limbs while moving as little as he could. Then, just as the witch came to pick him up, Peter sprang up. The hag waved her hands at him while she mustered him with raised eyebrows. As if he wasn’t intimidating her one bit. Peter channeled his hate into his stare and shot forwards, grabbing her hands to prevent her from casting her magic. All the while, he tried to keep Morgan out of the witch’s view. 

The witch pulled him back, making Peter stumble. He caught himself and kicked at her feet. His feet connected with something soft and he inwardly cheered. Though, somehow, the witch fell forward right towards him. Peter panicked. He did not want an old witch on top of him, not ever. He could already imagine the jokes Tony would make and ew. Stepping back, he evaded her falling body barely. 

Only then did he realize that he had let go. Shit, he thought, somehow dodging a spell. It whirled in the air next to him, wooing before splatting against the wall. The cat on his tongue moved a little and Peter almost hoped it had woken up. 

He launched at her again, struggling to grab her hands. Something hard bumped into his back, sending pain up his spine. Peter tried to push forward with the stove as his leverage, but the witch was heavier than expected. She didn’t budge, instead continued to struggle against the hold he had on her hands. 

Somehow, in the whirl of their fight, Peter’s elbow connected with something hot. He wailed and jumped as it burned him, pressing it protectively against his body. But the witch didn’t follow him. Peter watched as she stumbled back with burns everywhere on her body. In a disoriented attempt to get away from the pot of steaming water Peter had knocked over, she staggered and bumped against the fireplace. 

The witch fell into the flames with an ear-piercing scream and was never heard of again. Peter was shaking, staring at her, heavily breathing even as the air cat left him. Morgan came up next to him, hugging his legs. 

Peter barely registered as the door opened. In a frown, he remembered  the knocks and blasts he had heard during the battle but had ignored. He was there, frozen, forever entranced in the flames’ deadly dance. 

“Daddy!” Morgan screamed and left his side. Peter flinched at the noise. 

Despite the warmth, Peter knew that hell was freezing. It was frightening and un-moving and icy and he had just killed a person. He had ended someone’s life. Watched as they burned without any attempt to help them. I’m a terrible person, he thought. His pledge or morality to never kill was broken forever. 

Warm arms wrapped around him, trying to melt the ice that had claimed him, and Peter broke. “I—I killed her. Oh my god, I killed her. I killed someone. I didn’t mean to. Tony, you have to believe me, I didn’t mean to.” He sobbed into a shoulder he didn’t deserve to.

“Shh,” Tony soothed, gently rocking them and moving his hand in circles over his back. “It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not okay. I killed someone, Tony. I’m a murderer.” Peter couldn’t tell whether he was snapping for air or snapping in self-directed anger and disgust. Yet, as much as he wanted to recoil, to flee, and just run, he couldn’t move. He was trapped here in comfort that he didn’t deserve. 

“You did it in self-defense. She was gonna— God, I don’t even wanna think about what she was going to do to you.” Tony held him even closer if that was possible. Though, his right hand left him briefly to invite Morgan into the hug. 

“You saved us,” Morgan said as if that was all that was needed to be said about the situation. 

“Let’s go home,” Tony decided, and Peter melted into the touch as all the tension suddenly left his body and he was drowned in exhaustion. Home sounded like heaven, it sounded exactly like the place he wanted to be right now, and the place he may didn’t deserve to reside in anymore after what he’s done. But Tony pulled him along, guiding his kids home, never once faltering to assure himself that they were safe and that Peter was welcome. 

#friendly neighborhood fic exchange #irondad #peter parker #morgan stark #my fic #big bro peter #fairytale retelling #hansel and gretel

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Amsterdam Chapter 95

[What were you thinking Dumbass?]

{You know we almost never think.}

[You can’t just go touching Spidey while we’re dating Peter!]

“Guys!” Wade hissed. “Can we focus? It didn’t happen.” He made his way towards the opening of the alley so that he could be ready to distract. Mercifully, the voices were silent for a moment, allowing Wade to count down towards when he needed to be the distraction.

“This is a bad place for this.”

Wade turned and saw two people in disturbingly familiar suits in the middle of the alley.

[How have they not seen us yet?]

{Plot convenience!}

Wade silently ambled over to the two of them as they scowled at the brickwork. “The buildings would cut of dispersal,” one of the suits said.

“That would be okay,” the second reassured. “After all, this is only supposed to be a test to see if the product works as advertised.”

“God.” The first agent rubbed his face. “What happens if we raise objections?”

“In New Amsterdam? Well, people have been complaining the river level’s low…”

The two wandered off and Wade stared after them, eyes narrowed. That didn’t sound good. What could they be planning?

[Speaking of plans, Spiderman is probably waiting on us and wondering why we haven’t made an entrance yet.]

Wade, distracted, pivoted back towards the bank and grinned. “Let’s put on a show,” he said brightly.

[No.]

{Yes!}

“Oh, yeah,” agreed Wade, grinning madly.

[No!]

“You can’t stop an avalanche,” Wade burbled as he danced out in front of the bank, between the officers and the bank.

[NO!]

“As it races down the hill!” continued Wade as he spun towards the doors. “You can try to stop the seasons girl,” he caroled as he kicked them in, “but you know you never will!” Bullets riddled his body. Strangely, they were only coming from one direction.

[You deserve this.]

{Don’t be grumpy! It’s a great song! And you can try to stop my dancing feet!}

“But I just cannot stand still!” warbled Wade as he began to twirl.

One of the criminals poked both hands—empty--into the air before slowly following them with his head. “If we surrender,” he said, “will you stop singing?”

“Well, that’s rude,” commented a familiar voice as a strand of webbing came out of nowhere and hauled the criminal to the ceiling. “What have you got against Hairspray?” Spidey demanded before webbing up the other criminals.

“It’s all about the importance of being yourself!” Wade added as he knocked out another criminal. He peered into the bank. They were alone. The hostages were gone. Spidey had saved them all.

“What the fuck happened to you?” demanded the first criminal as he stared at Wade.

That was when Wade realized that the bullets had destroyed the majority of his suit. His skin was exposed to the open air, to the gazes of the people around him. Everybody could see how horribly mutilated the skin was.

“Deadpool,” called Spiderman. A hand touched Wade’s shoulder. Wade’s half bare shoulder. “What do you need?” the hero demanded.

“Cover,” whimpered Wade as he tried to curl on himself.

Spiderman nodded and suddenly Wade was in a slowly hardening cocoon of some kind.

{...so are we about to be eaten?}

[What?]

{Well, spiders cocoon their prey in webbing, right? And right now we’re cocooned in webbing. So, are we about to be eaten?}

[This is the problem with singing musicals. You just encourage this nonsense to spout.]

A light scratching alerted Wade to the fact that there was still a world outside the cocoon. “Are you all right?” called Spidey, voice muffled.

“Not—not really,” Wade admitted. It had taken months of partnering with the wall crawler before he’d been comfortable admitting when he wasn’t all right. Most people didn’t ask.

{Bet Peter would ask.}

[Really? You’re going to go there? After asking if Spiderman was going to eat us?]

“Could—could you take me to apartment?” Wade asked.

“Sure thing.” The cocoon rocked as Wade imagined it was lifted and he heard air whistling quickly by. The cocoon was well made; he couldn't feel the air rushing by. He heard the squeak as his window was forced open before the cocoon was very carefully put inside the apartment.

{Think this is how Daredevil feels?}

[For the love of the last shreds of our sanity SHUT UP!]

“Need me to rip a hole for you?” Spidey asked anxiously. “I’m not sure how long before this web dissolves; it’s a new formula.”

“I’m good Spidey,” Wade said firmly. “You go, uh, go finish patrol?”

A few gentle taps sounded on the top of the cocoon. “See you later, ‘Pool,” Spidey said with affection.

{Aw. Spidey cares.}

[If this is like our last interaction with Spiderman, then right about now we should be hearing—]

{You think Peter will be coming over?!}

[I think if he does we should tell him to go away again.]

{But—we like Peter. And he likes us. Why would we do that?}

[Because our skin is exposed and our skin is a toxic waste dump that will make every single human who sees it flinch and gag at the sight of it.]

There was a moment of silence in Wade’s head before Yellow spoke up in a soft, almost silent voice.

{Peter didn’t.}

That was true. Peter didn’t flinch away at the sight of Wade’s skin. He’d even touched it! Had initiated a kiss!

“I see a man who’s gone through Hell and gotten back up and still has the humanity to care about other people.”

That’s what Peter had said.

Peter—didn’t hate him. Wasn’t repulsed by the skin. Didn’t avoid him.

“Wade?”

Peter was in his apartment.

[It’s in the middle of a work day. Shouldn't he be doing something important?]

“Hey, Petey-Pie!” Wade chirped from the cocoon. He poked a finger at the soft, surprisingly strong webbing.

“Hold on!” Peter called. “I’ll get something to cut you out.”

[He’ll see our skin.]

{He’s already seen our skin!}

Wade heard violent hacking at the outside of the the cocoon. “Baby, please tell me that’s not my best hunting knife you’re mangling on this web.”

A pause. “Um—what’s the hunting knife look like?”

Wade sighed. It was. “Just grab one of my swords and pierce. They’ll cut through anything.”

[Not vibranium.]

“Almost anything,” Wade amended. Shortly after that statement a sword was thrust in—but not deep enough to hit Wade.

[Almost like he knows where we are in this thing.]

“I heard you singing earlier,” Peter said.

[When?]

Good question. Wade repeated it.

“At the bank.”

Wade’s heart seized at the thought that Peter, his Peter, had been one of the hostages. No—he was a photographer. Surely he’d only been there to take pictures. “Were you—in the bank?” asked Wade carefully.

The sword swept up making a cut. It looked like Peter was trying to cut a small hole in the cocoon. “Yeah,” the younger man admitted.

Peter had been in the bank. Peter had been in danger. And, like an idiot, he hadn’t checked, hadn’t looked, hadn’t seen.

{He could have been killed.}

Once again oblivious to Wade’s inner turmoil, Peter continued to speak. “I didn’t hear much of it, but I liked it. What’s the name of it?”

“You Can’t Stop the Beat,” Wade said weakly. “It’s from a musical.” The sword finished its circle. “From Hairspray,” he added lamely as the the circle is lifted away and a beam of pure light enters the cocoon.

{There’s a metaphor in there somewhere…}

[Hello lampshade.]

Peter’s face blocked the light. “Wade?” he asked. “I’m going to cut down to try and get you out.”

“Ah, um, uh—yeah. Before you do that—would you please get me a mask? I have spares in my dresser.”

A hand reached in and gently caressed Wade’s slightly exposed cheek. “If you want,” agreed Peter before pulling away.

Wade leaned forward, resting his head on his knees. He wanted to tell Peter how grateful he was that the other didn’t insist on Wade baring his skin. He knew Peter liked seeing it, yes. But—Peter was understanding enough to understand that Wade couldn't give up his mask—not just yet. He wasn’t quite ready for Peter to see his face.

“Wade? Why do you have fifty-seven masks in your drawer?”

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool

[kodzusken]

hehe for the prompts you should use “i hâte accidents except when we went from friends to this” from paper rings by taylor 🥺👉👈

was there any boy more perfect than peter parker? his chestnut brown hair looked golden when it hit the light just right, and his warm eyes were comforting and inviting. he had a soft laugh and a smile made of sunshine. to top it all off, he was probably the nicest guy you’ve ever met. any girl would be lucky to end up in his arms every night. 

and god, you wish you were that girl.

unfortunately, peter took every opportunity he had to remind you two that you were just friends. “this is my best friend y/n.” “you’re a great friend, y/n.” "y/n? she’s just a really good friend.” and the worst: “i love you, you know, as a friend.”

being friendzoned was bad enough. being friendzoned by your soulmate peter parker was the absolute worst. 

“what’d you get for number sixteen?” peter asked, not removing your stare from the pages of his textbook. when you didn’t respond after a while, he looked up only to find you spacing off, your gaze fixated on him. the corners of his mouth twitched up in a small smile as he waved his hands in front of your face. “y/n?” 

at the sound of your name, you blinked and snapped out of your trancelike state. a heated blush rushed to your cheeks as you glanced down at your paper. “um, i got two?” 

peter winced and shook his head playfully. “wow, you’re out of it today,” he teased. “the answer was actually sixteen.” you laughed and crumpled up a piece of scrap paper, tossing it at him. “now we’re getting violent?”

“shut up, you know i’m right.”

“what i know is someone’s not paying attention,” peter raised his eyebrows at you. “got something to share with the class?”

you blushed. there was no way in hell that you were going to tell peter he was the one distracting you. “no, don’t think so.”

he bit his lip in thought. he’d have to be blind to not notice you’d been a little spacey lately. you’d been his best friend for ages, and recently, it was like you were keeping something from him. best friends didn’t keep secrets from each other. luckily, there was one tactic that always worked on you.

“then i’m gonna have to tickle it out of you.” peter slid the books off his lap and walked over to you, wiggling his fingers. you shrieked as he started tickling you, but your eyes lit up with delight. you thrust out your hands, trying to grasp his to stop him.

“peter, jesus christ,” you laughed. “isn’t this a little immature?”

“hey, if it works, it works, right?” peter teased. your hands were finally able to break free and find his, lacing your fingers together. he locked eyes with you, the butterflies in his stomach going crazy when he realised you were basically holding his hand.

you stared back, your face flushing pink. a few heartbeats later, you came to your senses. “sorry,” you said immediately, slipping your fingers from his. wow, you were stupid. he probably didn’t feel the same way about you. “we should probably get back to-”

peter’s sweater covered palms cupped your cheeks, stopping you in your tracks. why did his sweater sleeves have to be so soft? “before we do,” he said gently. “i need to tell you something.”

your heart leapt to your throat. “wh-”

he quickly placed his lips on yours, and pulled away before you could even open your eyes again. he blushed bright red, apologies pouring from his lips as he moved away from you. “oh my god, i’m so sorry, i-that was an accident-”

you grabbed his wrists and pulled him close, pecking his lips again. 

peter blushed. “i-i thought we were just friends.”

you furrowed your brow in confusion. “w-what do you mean? aren’t you always the one friendzoning me?”

“w-well, i was only friendzoning you because i thought you were friendzoning me.”

you groaned and buried your face in peter’s chest. “we could’ve gotten together so long ago.”

peter laughed and snaked his arms around your waist. “w-well at least, we can be together now? right?” he asked nervously, and you looked up at him, smiling.

and i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this, uh huh...

“that’s right,” you confirmed, capturing his lips in another kiss. “you’re the one i want.”

[taglists under the cut]

permanent taglist:  

@stiles-banshees @mcdwcman @flo-milli @im-salt-but-not-salty friend @averyfosterthoughts @parkerslutz @zabdisamor @alopix861 @astronomical-parker @marshyrebelcloud @screeching-student-unknown @boyfriend-cal @miraclesoflove @melodramaa @a-hardcore-romantic @cloudy-zoey @deans-daffodils @halfblood-princess-505 @deans-daffodils @kickingn-ames @stuckonspidey @cosmicholland @murdermornings @imanativeofswlondondahling @yaofanblogue @thwippeter @hollandfangirl @musicalkeys @starryjiani @daffodilrecs @itstaskeeen @awesomebooklover17 @buckybigbutt @dummiesshort @xo-spidey @the-salty-asian @itstaskeen @bonjourbuddy @spidey-reids-3000 @pastelpeter

blurbs taglist:

@saturnpeter @kitykatnumber @seamusfnngan @spideygirl2003 @astronomical-parker @starlight-starks @luvgxnya @gayfeministbroadwayyeet @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @t-monosapiens-h @gayfeministbroadwayyeet @icyhollands @tinyyoungblood @im-still-tryin-to-find-it

peter parker taglist:

@givelove-always @saturnpeter @kitykatnumber @seamusfnngan @im-salt-but-not-salty  @averyfosterthoughts @spideygirl2003 @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @alexxcorona113 @its-the-unknownspideywrites @astronomical-parker @yourlocalbisuperhero @pastelpeter @hobiflowie @trustfundparker @parkerpeter24 @herb_the_dino @kelieah @shadowsndaisies @the-crazy-fanfictionist @k-wedgeworth @starlight-starks @luvgxnya @quaksonhehe @awaywithtime @gayfeministbroadwayyeet @universeoffandoms1 @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @harrysleftchelseaboot @t-monosapiens-h @throughparisallthroughrome @slytherinambitious @theamazingtomholland @perspectiveparker @1missglum1 @clara-licht @anapocalypseinmymind  @icyhollands @tinyyoungblood @im-still-tryin-to-find-it @cecedrake2217

#ari writes #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker blurb #peter parker blurbs #peter parker fic #ari's blurbs #pp

[whatta-babe]

Date Crashers (Obvious pt. 2)| Peter Parker x Reader

Taking place months after the Avengers found out that their youngest member, Sider-Man, had a crush (Obvious), the team only wants to meet Y/N officially. They will achieve their goal through any means necessary… This takes place before Infinity War and Endgame and can be read seperately.

Disclaimer: I wrote the first part of this two-shot over three (3) years ago and just never finished this part until now. Some of the characters are definitely out of character, but I am following the same characterization I used in part one (1).

Warnings: Minor cursing, OOC characters, and soft Peter Parker

Word Count: 1,247

On a random fall day in a random small café, Peter Parker is nervously bouncing his leg at an empty table, waiting for his girlfriend, Y/N, to come back from the restroom. Even after finally making the relationship official after months of aggressive flirting via text and shy stuttering flirting in the high school highway, and after approximately four (4) months of dating, the young brunette still gets jittery and bashful at even the thought of her.

Sure, he faces mutant people and aliens trying to take over the Earth on a surprisingly regular basis, but it just isn’t as nerve wracking as being in the presence of his loving girlfriend.

As Peter’s leg bounces, in a random small café, on a random fall day, he is being surrounded and spied on by the people he considers family- the Avengers. If he hadn’t been so obvious with his infatuation of Y/N all of those months ago, unintentionally drawing notice from his superhero familia, maybe the events that are currently playing out would have never happened.

Various pairs of eyes located from inside the café to the rooftop of a neighboring building snap to focus in on movement heading towards Peter’s tiny black table. It’s Y/N in her favorite skirt and- is that Peter’s decathlon sweatshirt? Wanda is already at risk of blowing her cover as Vision attempts to stop her from vibrating excitedly.

The girl finishes patting her hands dry on her clothes as she sits down, but before the couple can greet each other again, Peter’s name is called. He shoots out of his seat to dart to the pickup counter to collect his girlfriend’s and his drinks and freshly warmed pastries. Located in a dark corner of the café, Steve nods to himself in silent praise. Good job for paying for and collecting the food for his partner; what a gentleman.

The brunette swiftly walks back to their table and sets Y/N’s order gently in front of her, and as he sits down, their easy conversation starts up again. It seems that neither one of the teenagers notice that they are simultaneously playing footsie under the table as they discuss topics of interest- maybe it’s Star Wars or something nerdy like that as Bucky shakes his head slowly.

This boy is hopelessly in love, and I can’t with this young teenage romance any longer. He silently contemplates heading back to the compound. Why did he even agree to this anyway? Oh yeah, to get more dirt on the kid to tease him with it later.

Now the couple’s conversation switches to future plans. “Saturday is supposed to be really nice. Do you want to have a picnic in Central Park? I’ll pack all of your favorites!”

Peter grabs her hand and smiles sweetly as Y/N nods in excitement! “That’s a great idea, Peter! And we can look at all the sculptures! I haven’t been there in so long…” She trails off.

When Peter brings the hand that he is holding to his lips in a sweet kiss, Sam has to say something to his frenemy. “Man, who knew this kid had game? Because I sure as hell didn’t.”

Bucky can only nod silently in agreement because yeah, who the hell would have thought?

Another peaceful and giggle-filled hour passes by as Natasha records the entire date from afar, not only for her own pleasure of rewatching it later but also because she promised Bruce that she would record their interactions for him to see. He had some type of life-changing and important research he had to conduct instead of joining the team for this bonding experience- lame.

In the end, it’s Clint that exposes the team to the happy couple, but was anyone expecting anything different? It seems that the café’s air vents were not as stable as he would have liked because its Clint’s body tumbling from the ceiling that leaves the café customers and workers in horror and surprised confusion. The man in question rapidly stands up to dust himself off and cheerily waves “Nothing to see here! Just go on with your daily activities,” to try and act like this event is no big deal.

But it is a big deal to Peter who knows what’s happening the second he recognized the falling body. “You’ve been spying on us??” He stands up in disbelief while Y/N can only become more confused than before.

Tony, who has been shaking his head in disbelief at his teammate’s idiocy, quickly joins the fray from his inconspicuous hiding place (the same shady corner Steve is located in) to explain the situation. “Look, kid, what else were we supposed to do? You’ve been making excuses for months to not bring Y/N over when all we want to do is meet her!” Okay, so maybe he is doing more accusing than explaining.

“I-what-ugh! Where is everyone else?” Peter’s face is amusingly splotchy and red while Y/N can barely keep up with the drama unfolding.

As the Avengers assemble in front of the couple, a strangled gasp and the sharp sound of a hand being hurriedly placed over one’s mouth is heard. “Oh my gosh… It’s really you guys! I’ve heard so much about you, and I’ve so wanted to meet you all!”

As Y/N smiles bashfully in front of her favorite heroes, Peter seems to snap back into focus and turns back to his unhinged family. Before he can speak again, Vision loses his fight against Wanda as she flings herself at Peter’s girlfriend in a flurry of long hair and flying arms. The squeal that has been building up for the past half hour is now being unleashed, but somehow someway, Y/N doesn’t seem to mind the ear-splitting noise. In fact, all she does is hug the woman back with equal enthusiasm.

Natasha pries the Scarlet Witch off only to take her place as she sways Peter’s girlfriend back and forth in her arms whilst muttering compliments and encouragements into her ear.

Peter can only pout heavily from the sidelines, arms crossed and bottom lip jutting out as he childishly huffs. Steve pats the boy’s back softly and waves to his two best friends as they finally make their way into the café from their rooftop hiding spot.

Apparently, there’s a line of people wanting to talk to Y/N because as soon as Natasha loosens her arms around the blushing girl, Tony steps up to her and pats her on the shoulder in acceptance. “You should come over for dinner this week, kid. We’ll get to know you more.” The usually obnoxious man is surprisingly composed and sane which Peter is grateful for, and he knows that Mr. Stark is really holding himself back at the moment.

Y/N can only smile brightly and clasp her hands together in excitement because who wouldn’t be excited if they were invited to have dinner with Earth’s mightiest heroes? She is totally writing this in her diary later!

But as the girl realizes the current time, all she can do is frown and starts to reluctantly says goodbye to everyone that she has met and places a chaste but sickeningly sweet kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek as a farewell. When Peter blushes, she lets out one last laugh and slips out of the café, excited to make dinner plans with Peter’s family and eternally grateful that Peter warned her that something like this may eventually happen. His Spidey senses never miss.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #date #ruined #spiderman #Spider-Man: Homecoming #fluff #fluffy #Avengers #out of character #funny i hope #romance #teenage love #y/n #reader insert #x reader

[giorno-plays-piano]

You were all I wanted Part 3

Pairing: mob!Peter Parker x plus-sized!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, human trafficking, mentions of non-con, minor character’s death.

Words: 1600.

Summary: You are bought by the head of Stark crime family for a kid he cares about.

Part 1

Part 2

P.S. Peter is an adult!

This chapter turned out to be shorter, but it's still pretty eventful. Hope you're going to like it <3

___________

"But what... what if he won't like me? What if he'll take me away?" You sobbed, panic taking over you as you imagined Tony Stark pressing a gun to your forehead.

"No, he'd never do that." Peter left a little kiss behind your ear. "Mr. Stark doesn't take the gifts he's made back. You don't have to be afraid of that."

You sniffed at his words. That's what you were now. A gift. A possession. A pet whose job was keeping its master happy. You had to be grateful you were given to someone like Peter, at least. You didn't know whether he would always treat you kindly, but as of now he had never threatened to hurt you. You could only pray for him to fancy you so he wouldn't throw you away like some garbage - apparently, Tony Stark treated his women exactly like that.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place. Of course, you got upset." Peter cuddled with you some more, but you weren't sure whether he was being sincere. Wasn't he sending you a clear message?

Don't go against me or you'll end just like her.

"Oh, I have an idea. Let's go out! Do you wanna see the movie or something?"

You did your best to wipe away your tears and stared at the boy, perplexed. "What?"

"We have a nice little cinema not far from here. We could go right now, just let me check what they've having today."

"But didn't you say I can't leave this place?"

"I meant without me." He showed you the same smug smirk Stark was wearing all the time, and you lowered your gaze to Peter's chest instead. "With me close you can go wherever you want to."

Funny thing to say. In thruth, you could go wherever he wanted to take you.

"Wow, they're having Beyond Darkness in 30 min! We gotta go, you'll loooove this."

"Sure."

In five minutes you were already hurrying after Peter and trying to look nowhere but your shoes. Regardless of what was there in Stark's Tower, you didn't want to see it, not even mentioning all those guys with guns scattered across the building. Peter was saying his hello to each and every one of them as if he were some mafia's social butterfly.

Whatever. You knew Peter was Tony's favorite not because he had a pretty face. You had never particularly asked what his role in all this was, but it was obviously something way bigger than running errands for the gang. Maybe it was better to never figure it out.

"Hey girl, wanna have fun?" Somebody to your left asked you, and you flinched involuntarily, keeping your head low.

Peter stopped in the very same second and sent the stranger a hard look.

"Mike, you offer my girl drugs one more time and I'm gonna shoot your cute little brother in the leg, you hear me?"

You raised your eyes to Peter's smiling face and regretted it immediately. There was something so dark in his gaze you wanted to turn around and run until you were back to your room, hiding somewhere in the corner.

"Shit! Sorry, Spidey!" The guy's high-pitched voice sounded frightened. "Didn't know you got a girl!"

"Yeah, yeah, see you later, we're kind of busy now." Peter grabbed your hand and pulled you away, heading to the exit. "I forgot to mention before that we don't do drugs. At all. They're good for business, but not for us, ok, Baby?"

"Yes, Peter." You answered and kept chewing your lips, thinking of all the things he had just said. You suspected him to be more ruthless when you weren't around, but never to such extent. How damn scary was real Peter Parker?

"And don't worry, I'd never shoot his brother in whatever part of his body." The boy said it like it was something obvious and you didn't even need to pay attention to it.

Why then did that guy look completely horrified?

When you had finally stepped outside and felt the wind playing with your hair you were ready to cry. Just walking out of the Tower was a fucking torture.

It was already dark, and you pulled the zipper on your pretty blue jacket up, going almost shoulder to shoulder with Peter. Normally you'd be at least a little scared to walk the streets of a big city at night, but the guy your mother had warned you about was already holding your hand.

The place the boy brought you to was truly small but cozy with nice vintage red seats, the delicious smell of caramel popcorn spreading everywhere. It turned out that the movie was something in between Star Wars and Star Trek, which wasn't surprising because Peter was a sucker for anything related to sci-fi. Anyway, it wasn't bad and you actually enjoyed watching it. The movie helped you to keep your mind off your earlier encounter with the drug trafficker and the words Peter said.

The only way to live like that and stay sane was to turn a blind eye to anything that happened around, you thought. It was cowardly and revolting, but what could you do against one of the most, if not the most, dangerous gangs in New York? Surely, even if by some miracle you could flee the Tower and go to police, would they really be willing to help you? No, they would return you to Mr. Stark. You were a hundred percent sure he got it covered.

"Are you feeling tired, Baby?"

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at Peter who smiled at you so lovingly it could make any girl cry.

"Just a little bit."

"Want me to give you a massage when we gonna get home?" His expression quickly turned devious, and he winked at you.

Yeah, great, now you'd have him fucking you before your knees were giving out. The kid had such stamina he could be an Olympic athlete, no less.

"Aw, I love when you blush like that." Chuckling, he put his arm around your shoulders and inched closer to give you a quick peck on the lips. You forced youself to enjoy his little signs of affection and start thinking you ought to be thankful he wasn't into heavy BDSM practices or something like that.

While you two were kissing again, you heard someone's loud footsteps as if this person just jumped out of the corner, and then there was a hateful outburst, "Stay were you are. Your wallets, quick!"

You froze, your hands getting cold as you stared at the face of a guy standing in front of you with a knife in his hands. He was clearly unstable, sick - you could see the dark circles around his eyes, the unhealthy color of his skin, and his greasy hair sticking to his forehead. You didn't know what was wrong with him, but he was twice bigger than Peter. The guy would probably have no problem with slicing both him and you into pieces if you didn't comply.

"I said g-"

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Peter let out a frustrated sigh before you heard the loud sound of the gun firing.

There was a little black hole in the guy's chest, blood seeping through his dirty white t-shirt and coloring it in a beautiful deep ruby color. You could see the confusion in the eyes of the stranger, his mouth half-open. Slowly, he went down before his legs gave out and he landed at the ground with a loud thud. He didn't move after that.

"Come on, attacking a couple of high shoolers? You're such a psycho, man. Who were you gonna go after us? Kids?" Peter rolled his eyes and hid the gun under his bomber, turning away from the man he murdered and shouting to someone behind him. "It's ok, people! It's just me, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man! Calm down, go home, it's late!"

You were still staring at the large pool of blood spreading beneath the body of a stranger - lack of light made it look like it was an odd black liquid. Before you could take your eyes elsewhere, you felt bile quickly going up your throat and vomitted, moving to lean your hand on the wall of a building. He killed him. Peter killed him. You didn't even see him pulling out the gun.

"Oh Baby, I'm so sorry." The boy gently held back your hair when you threw up again, feeling scared, disgusted, feverish and cold at the same time. "That's why I don't like drugs and what they do to people. That shithead lost his mind, you see? No sane guy would ever jump on me or my girl like that."

Despite him being so tender, you couldn't even turn your head to look at him as you started shaking from his touch.

You kept emptying your stomach a few more minutes before Peter softly wiped your mouth with his handkerchief and took your arm, walking you back to the Tower and saying all those unnecessary things about how terrible some people are and how everyone has to take care in the dangerous world they're living in. You didn't hear half of that, but you cared little for his chattering.

Peter had shot the man without showing even the slightest regret. He'd shoot you the same way if you ever turned against him - he was Stark's favourite, after all.

__________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki  ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @msruchita @opheliadawnwalker3

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #dark peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #spider man #spiderman #yandere #tom holland

[polaroid15]

Of Flying and Falling

Summary: On their way home from a fancy conference on the coast of Vancouver, Tony and Peter's helicopter crashes, ending what should have been a perfect weekend filled with maple ice cream and sea water in a desperate battle for survival.

Read on Ao3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/28534992

---

When Tony wakes he wishes oblivion would pull him straight back under. It’s not the first time he’s felt this way. Countless nights of parties and post-battle aches and pains have granted him as much.

Today it’s not much different.

He knows his eyes are open, though he can barely see straight, the world a mess of blurry colors and a fierce pain connecting his brain to his neck and spine. At first he thinks it’s a migraine, but a throbbing pain in his leg tells him otherwise. He squints through the haze of pain to assess the source of his hurt and sees, in striking double-vision, his right leg crushed between sheets of dull metal. He stares at it with wide eyed confusion until it clicks.

A trip to Vancouver. A fancy conference. Maple ice cream by the ocean.

The helicopter- it had gone down.

God, how he wishes it could’ve just been a migraine.

Tony squeezes his eyes shut and forces his mind to focus on his breathing. How in the hell had they crashed? Seriously, what were the goddamn chances?

He inhales, holds, exhales, holds. The air around him comes out in a faint wisp of fog, though he doesn’t feel cold.

He feels better.

A flash of a memory runs across his weary eyelids. He sees the pilot limp in his seat and hears panicked yelling in his ears. He sees a pale, freckled hand on his arm that connects up to Peter’s face, eyes wide and panicked. He’s holding onto Tony so tightly that he knows with a surety it will leave a bruise.

A scared kid, plummeting out of the sky.

Oh God.

“Peter!”

Tony winces as he tries to shift in his seat. The skin underneath his seatbelt aches as his fingers struggle to unclick the metal. Only now as his vision clears does he notice the pilot ahead of him, neck bent at an impossible angle.

“Christ. Christ!.”

Numb, he turns to look beside him and sees Peter pressed against the shattered glass of his window, eyes closed and covered in blood. His small hand is still stretched out towards Tony in what could’ve been a childish gesture, though empty and dripping with crimson.

He can’t tell if he’s breathing.

“P-Peter.”

Tony remembers it all now. How he’d pulled Peter out of school early to join him on the trip. How excited he had felt to show Peter off to his colleagues and for Peter to experience the conference. How he and Peter had sat on the coast, breathing in sea water and Peter facetiming May in front of a Canadian flag, smiling wide.

“Kid-” His breath freezes into a block of ice in his chest as he shoots his hand to the side, reaching desperately for the boy. It hits the damp material of Peter’s sweater first, once grey but now the colour of old rust. Swallowing against a sharp pain in his throat, he curls his fingers weakly around the fabric and tugs at it. Peter’s head slides further down the window, leaving a gruesome red smear against the glass in its wake.

Peter doesn’t stir.

Choking on air, Tony tries again, this time more intently. It makes his head spin. “Peter, wake up buddy.”

Still unresponsive, Tony feels his mind draw a blank and he drops his hand. His chest is tight and his heart is beating impossibly fast, so much so that he can feel his pulse in his temples. Through the harsh staccato of his breath he’s vaguely aware of the wind whistling through the cracks and gaps of the damaged aircraft. It sounds threatening, as if the outside world is trying to claw its way towards them and finish them off; to take Peter away somewhere Tony can’t follow.

He tries to breathe, can’t, and without much grace wiggles his fingers under the kid’s throat, praying for a pulse. After a moment of agonizing patience, he feels it. A beat of life.

“Pete-”

His relief is joined with an unwarranted sob as Peter groans. The pressure in his chest loosens, even if only slightly, and he continues to encourage the boy back to consciousness. “Earth to spidey.”

“F’ve more minutes.”

“Oh lordy. Peter!”

Ever so slowly, Peter shows his eyes. Tony watches brokenly as they fill with confusion. “Wha?”

“It’s okay kiddo. It’s okay. Look at me.”

“What?” Peter says again. His head pulls away from the glass and Tony winces at the tiny shards of it embedded in the side of his face. With great difficulty, Peter’s eyes reach Tony’s own. They flicker with understanding, even fear. “Tony? Y-you’re covered in blood.”

“I know. We had an accident.”

Breathing becoming more laboured, Peter tries to sit up and cries out as he does. His hands reach up to ghost at his abdomen where the seatbelt is still pulled tight. “Oh,” he says. “Tha’s not good.”

A familiar sting erupts in Tony’s eyes and he swallows against the tightening of his throat. Not good. So not good. “Breathe Petey. We’re going to be fine. We have to get out, though. Can you move?”

Still obviously struggling with basic comprehension, Peter nods hastily a couple long seconds after the close of Tony’s question. With shaking hands, the boy reaches for his seatbelt and grits his teeth as he pulls it apart. When it loosens he leans back with wide eyes as if blinking away stars and doesn’t respond when Tony tries to soothe him.

“Take it slow. Take your time.”

Peter is still staring heavily at the dented ceiling of the helicopter, breathes stilted. “The- the pilot?”

Looking over at the broken man, Tony feels his stomach tighten. “It doesn’t look good Pete.”

“Oh.” To Tony’s horror, a tear appears against the blood and grime on the kid’s cheek. His head rolls to look at Tony, fever bright eyes landing on his leg. “Tony-”

“I know,” he says tightly. The acknowledgment brings a fresh wave of pain over his body that makes his stomach twist into knots. “I’ll need your help to get it free. Think you can circle around and pry it out for me?”

Peter blinks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Kid?”

“Yeah?”

“I need your help to get free. Then I can help look you over. Okay?”

“Oh. O-okay.”

Tony watches closely as Peter curls his scraped and bruised hands around the door of the helicopter and pushes it ajar. It brings with it a gust of bitter air and they both shiver fiercely against it.

“Remember to take it slow buddy.”

Nodding, Peter uses the top of the door to shimmy himself to the edge of his seat, grunting through the pain. He must lose his balance because in the next second, he’s gone. Tony hears him hit the ground hard. Then silence.

“Peter!” Tony moves to help the boy and nearly screams when the movement pulls on his trapped leg. He grinds his knuckles into his forehead and fights to regain air in his chest. When the fit passes, he trusts himself to speak once more. “Peter! Are you okay?”

There’s another beat of long, painful silence before he hears the rustle of leaves. Peter’s head appears at the foot of his open door, pupils blown wide and looking dazed as ever. “‘M good. S’ry.”

Something twists savagely in Tony’s gut. God. He should’ve waited for Peter to get more oriented- should’ve made sure he was ready to move. All his rational thought has seemed to drift far away like a cloud from the sky they had fallen from.

“‘M coming.”

Before Tony can even open his mouth Peter is stumbling out of sight. He practically holds his breath until he hears the light scraping of metal against his own door and helps Peter pull it open. The movement must throw Peter off balance again because he falls backwards onto his butt, staring amazedly up at Tony like he had no idea how he got there.

“Careful bud,” Tony frets. He leans down and reaches out a hand to help Peter up, who takes it weakly.

“S’ry,” Peter says again, shaking his head. “Dizzy.”

“No kidding,” Tony agrees. Up close, he can truly appreciate how mauled the kid’s head is; thick blood coagulating against his temple and in his hair, leaving a gruesome trail all the way down to the neckline of his sweater and out of sight. He doesn’t even want to think of everything he can’t see.

Peter falls against the body of the helicopter, hands ghosting over the crunched metal around Tony’s leg. After what must be some delirious consideration, Peter’s hands find themselves on each side of the opposing medal. Without warning, he pulls.

They both scream.

It takes a long time for Tony to see anything other than the sudden whiteness that has dominated his vision. When it clears, he finds his leg is free. Very broken, burning with pain, but free. He chokes on his tears and swallows the acid in his throat.

“G-good job kid.”

Silence.

“Kid?”

Tony whips his head to the side and braces himself against the interior of the helicopter as his vision tilts and slides like a damn kaleidoscope. When it returns to an equilibrium, it nearly whites out again in sheer panic.

Peter is sprawled out on the grass on his back, lax face tilted up towards the sun. Tony’s too antic to tell if the kid is breathing and every shred of common sense flies away from him as he pushes himself out of the body of the aircraft.

He lands next to the boy and chokes on a scream when his bad leg hits the ground. He does throw up this time, shuddering against the pain of it all. A faint ringing has started in his ears, but none of it matters. All that matters is Peter.

With shaking hands Tony reaches to find the kid’s pulse, this time on his wrist, and collapses in on himself when he finds it for the second time. It’s fast and thready, but there all the same.

“Thank god,” Tony breathes. He crawls closer and taps on Peter’s cheek. The blood on his skin sticks to Tony’s fingers. “Peter. Pete.”

This time Peter’s ascent back into consciousness is easier. His eyelids pull up to half mast and he hums, head turning ever so slightly to meet Tony’s worried gaze. Everything in Tony’s chest seems to melt as he studies his kid. He brushes the hair out of Peter’ face, hand lingering. “What happened bud?”

“Dunno,” Peter replies honestly, eyebrows pulling together. “Hurt.”

Tony takes it as his invitation to check what injuries the boy’s been hiding. Peter watches detachedly as Tony pulls up the hem of Peter’s sweater and gasps at what he sees, limbs going numb and his pulse doubling in tempo.

All the skin Tony can see is a dark, molten purple, nearly black. In the worst of the bruising Peter’s skin is raised in ugly irritation. Tony’s no doctor, but he’s sure the seat belt had cut into his gut and wouldn’t be surprised if the kid was sporting some broken ribs or bruised organs.

Internal bleeding, his mind supplies, but he pushes it away.

They need help. Badly.

“Cold.”

Tony snaps his head towards Peter, finding him with his arms curled feebly around his frame and the setting sun casting long shadows across his face.

Not good.

Gears spin and catch in Tony’s head. “Hang on kid,” he says, then staggers to his feet, using the body of the helicopter to keep himself from falling. Fearful for what he might find, he heaves open the door to the cockpit and uses every last bit of strength to pull himself inside.

“Williams?”

Tony reaches out his hand slowly and rests in gently on the pilot’s shoulder. When it doesn’t illicit a response, his fingers ghost through the blood and broken glass to find one of the man’s veins. Unlike Peter’s, it’s still against his skin.

“Oh Christ.”

Tony sits back against his seat, hands trembling violently. Though thoroughly surrounded in it, the air seems to vanish from the atmosphere, leaving him gasping. God.

“Tony-”

A voice through the haze. He feels a warm hand on his thigh.

“Mr. Stark. Look at me.”

Slowly, he does, aware as if from a great distance Peter’s worried eyes. The kid is leaning heavily against the opening in the cockpit, looking faint but determined. “It’s not your fault. You have to breathe.”

It takes some time. It always does.

Again, Tony breathes.

“Good,” Peter mumbles in relief, head dipping forward. Tony snakes his hand up to his chest and feels the evidence of his heart working underneath the layer of grime and singed clothing constructing his shirt and takes a long moment to really feel it.

Eventually, the universe rights itself.

“Sorry kid.”

Peter shakes his head, but doesn’t raise it, body lax with exhaustion. If he hadn’t known any better, Tony would’ve thought the boy had fallen asleep standing against the side of the aircraft. His small voice travels up and Tony barely catches it. “D-does the radio work?”

Feeling dumb for not thinking of it sooner, Tony looks hurriedly towards the contraption. It’s crushed, just as his leg had been. Nothing more than useless scrap metal.

“Nada,” he chokes.

“Phone?”

Tony grits his teeth, pulling his phone out from his suit jacket. The cracked screen displays his worst nightmare. “No service.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The sun is barely visible through the trees now, the last of its light turning the pine needles gold. Tony sees Peter shiver once more, this time harder, and he pulls himself towards the edge of the seat. “It’s starting to look like we’re going to have to stay the night kiddo.”

Peter shifts, allowing Tony to drop to the ground beside him. He looks distant, like all the times in a post-spidey incident they’ve had to hook him up to an IV filled with the good stuff. “The night,” Peter repeats, slurring his words. Then he laughs. “Camping.”

Against his better judgement, Tony smiles. “Yeah. Just like camping.”

“I’ve never been camping.”

“Well, there's a first time for everything.”

Peter laughs again, but this time, it tapers off into a grimace. The boy crumples like a poorly stacked card tower and Tony lunges to catch him, leg igniting in bright pain at the sudden movement. They end up in a tangled pile of limbs on the forest floor.

“Peter?”

Heart thundering once more, Tony raises himself and turns the kid’s chin into his line of sight. Contrary to his suspicions, Peter is blinking up lazily at him, expressionless but conscious.

“Answer me bud,” Tony says loudly, raw anxiety flooding every nerve in his body. His hands ghost over the kid’s abdomen and then his face where his head is still leaking blood. “Peter,” he says again, this time more urgently. The kid’s eyes remain painstakingly vacant. “Talk to me.”

The sunset shines like fire against Peter’s face. The young hero blinks, then blinks again. Slowly, Tony sees recognition return. He whimpers and Tony’s eyes well up with tears. “Peter? Can you hear me?”

Peter nods.

“Good, good. Can you tell me your name?”

Peter considers it for a moment before clearing his throat. It must cause another spark of pain because his eyes screw closed before reopening once more. “Peter.”

“And who am I?”

“Tony.”

“Great job kiddo. You’re acing my test. One more question, alright? How many fingers do you see?”

The confusion is evident on Peter’s face as he squints towards Tony’s raised hand. After a long painful silence, he gives up and falls back. “Six?”

If the fear shows on his face, Peter doesn’t pick up on it. “Not quite,” he says sourly, curling his hand back into a fist. “But that’s okay.”

Peter hums. “I’m cold.”

God, he’s never felt so useless in his life. Tony bites his lip hard and stares into the wide expanse of wilderness around them. He wonders if they’re still in Canada or if they had managed to cross the border.

Regardless, they need a fire.

“I hear ya kiddie,” Tony says. A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through his veins, numbing the raging pain in his leg. He runs his hands through Peter’s hair and the boy leans into the touch, eyes fluttering. “I’ll get us a fire started, okay? Stick tight.”

“Mmm?”

“Stay here,” he repeats. “I’ll be right back.”

But Peter doesn’t respond.

Gritting his teeth, Tony stands once more. He limps away from the helicopter and braces himself against the nearest tree to blink through the stars collecting in his eyes. Though he’s only moved a couple steps, he looks back towards Peter, the boy unmoving in the grass.

“Oh god.”

The adrenaline fades fast. Tony uses all of it he can to snap thin branches off surrounding trees and limp them back over to the helicopter. Everytime he deposits a load of wood he crouches down to make sure the kid is still breathing.

He makes three trips. By the fourth, he can barely stand and the sky is dark.

Peter doesn’t stir as Tony drops down to the earth beside him. He lets the kid sleep on as he arranges the wood together over a mound of disrupted dirt where the helicopter had sheared the earth clean. He grabs a fistfull of dry grass and tucks it into the center of his structure. Then, using the blessed lighter in his pocket, sets it ablaze.

It’s weak but functional and Tony nearly collapses at the relief of the flame. It illuminates the small area around them and Tony uses it to crawl towards Peter, shaking him awake. The boy’s eyes are completely delirious as he grapples to come back to himself.

“What?”

“We got a fire,” Tony explains gently. Under his touch, Peter’s skin is iced. “Come warm up.”

Nodding, Peter allows Tony to hoist him into a sitting position. The movement must pull at the injury in his gut because he grunts through clenched teeth, nearly collapsing back down. Tony catches him at his shoulder before he can, noticing the thin sheen of sweat on the kid’s neck and forehead with worry. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “Easy does it.”

After another series of awkward and painful maneuvers they end up leaning against the metal of the helicopter, side by side and the fire glinting like magic in front of them. He feels Peter relax against his side, the kid’s head falling to rest heavily on Tony’s shoulder.

He thinks of hours before when he and Peter had been enjoying matching maple ice creams. How they hadn’t shared a single care in the world.

Stupid of him to believe it could last.

Peter shifts against him, pulling him away from his thoughts. He’s looking intently into the fire. “Marshmallows?” He asks.

Chuckling, Tony holds him tighter. “Sorry kiddo. Not this time.”

“Bummer.”

The attempt at humour dies like the sparks shooting up from their small flames and Tony feels the dread creeping back into his bones like a disease. This is all his goddamn fault. “How’re you feeling kiddo?”

Peter hums as if in deep thought. The blood on his face is bright and unrelenting in the glow of the fire, like some permanent reminder of Tony's failures. “Did you know my parents died in a plane crash?”

Tony jolts, the response hitting him like a freight train. He rubs Peter’s arm as his throat tightens. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“They must’ve been really scared.”

“Are you scared Peter?”

Slowly, Peter shakes his head. “No. Got you.”

Swallowing his tears, Tony presses a kiss to Peter’s temple. He grapples with his words, a deep sorrow replacing his physical pain for a brief moment. “Your parents had each other.”

As if agreeing, Peter makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “I wish I could’ve known them better.”

“They’re with you,” Tony assures quietly. He moves his hand to place it against the boy’s chest, the fabric warm from the fire. “They’re always with us, Pete. Our family never leaves us.”

Peter smiles. Even through the blood and dirt and utter delirium, he looks happy. “You’re family.”

Tony’s chest tightens.

“You won’ leave me. Right?”

“Never,” he promises.

Peter smiles again. There’s blood on his teeth Tony hadn’t noticed before and he hopes to god it isn’t new. “I’ll never leave you either.”

“Good,” Tony says. He pulls them closer together, trying his best to ignore the numbness in his toes. “I’m going to hold you to it Parker.”

“Mmm.” Peter’s smile falls slightly, eyes drifting closed. “M’kay.”

Tony feels his own eyelids drooping. He surveys the kid through heavily lidded eyes. “We checkin out?”

“Mm.”

Peter’s weight increases against his side as he falls asleep. Tony rests his head on the top of Peter’s curls and soaks in the warmth of the fire. For some strange reason, he feels a calmness he can’t describe. In fact, he can hardly feel the pain in his leg anymore.

Within seconds, he’s asleep.

---

When Tony wakes up the next morning, their fire is dead.

The ashes still smoulder, sending thin wisps of smoke up into the bright light of the morning. For a moment he lies still, blinking away his incoherence and moaning when his leg twists in a horrible pain.

God, he’s so screwed.

A chill rushes over him and he pulls his jacket more tightly around his frame with numb fingers. The warmth Peter had provided throughout the night is gone.

“Peter?”

Tony forces his eyes to open fully, turning his head to his left. He expects to see the kid curled up in a ball or leaned back against the aircraft.

Instead, he doesn’t see Peter at all.

“Damn it.” A stroke of fear beats hard against Tony’s chest like a drum. He scrambles in the dirt, sweeping his eyes over the clearing in hopes to find the missing boy. His breath hitches and stalls as he tries to curb the mounting panic.

Then he sees him. The boy is across the clearing, laid out on his stomach and unmoving as if he had fallen.

“PETER!”

Tony tries to stand and fails. As soon as he puts pressure on his crushed leg it sparks in agony and his knees buckle. He claws at the dirt, vision white, and for some time is quite unaware of anything past the lightning rods of hurt in his bones.

Vertigo washes over him as he twists on his side. Slowly, the world swims back into focus. God. Not doing that again. Taking deep, lung shattering breaths, Tony pulls himself to his knees.

“Peter!”

Again, the boy doesn’t move. Tony swears and hobbles forward on his hands and good knee, dragging his injured limb behind. By the time he reaches the boy, his muscles are shaking and he has sweat dripping in his eyes. He uses the last of his rapidly depleting strength to heave Peter onto his back.

“Kid?”

Peter’s face is more pale than Tony has ever seen it. His stomach twists and he raises the hem of Peter’s shirt once more, gritting his teeth at the unimproved arrangement of bruises and welts. If anything it’s gotten worse.

“Come on,” Tony urges, lightly shaking Peter’s arm. “Wakey wakey.”

The world seems to pause on its axis as Peter’s eyes slowly drift open. There’s absolutely no coherence in them, and it takes Tony another five minutes of talking to get the kid to even look at him.

“Tony?”

“Yeah kiddo, it’s me,” he says, voice thick. “What’re you doing all the way out here?”

“Here?” Peter shifts, cries out, and fights to breathe. His eyes snap shut and his fingers curl weakly in the grass as he writhes against the pain.

“Christ.” Tony’s hands hover uselessly over the boy, scared to even touch him. “Kid? You okay?”

“No-no!”

Maybe it’s the pain, maybe it’s the exhaustion. Hell, maybe it’s just the sheer audacity of the situation, but soon they're both laughing. It’s choked and bizarre and so astronomically far from humour.

Eventually, their delirious chuckles taper off into heavy breathing. Peter looks up at him with eyes that tell Tony he’s probably seeing in double again.

“Why’d you leave the helicopter?” Tony asks. “You can’t scare me like that Pete.”

“Sorry,” Peter says. His hands are still wound tightly into the earth. “I was- I was- I thought I heard Ben.”

Tony frowns, leaning forward to press his fingers against the wound in Peter’s head. It trickles blood at his touch and Peter swats him away. God, he wishes he had the technology to tell him exactly what was going on. He’s no doctor, but he’s pretty sure hearing the voices of deceased relatives is not a good sign.

“Don’ worry,” Peter says as if reading his thoughts. “I’m not crazy. Just got confused.”

“I know. I’m sorry Pete.”

“I wanna go home.”

“I know.”

Peter sighs out a shallow breath, staring up into the grey sky. “I don’t know if I can move.”

Trying to keep the panic off his face, Tony doesn’t bother arguing. He knows the boy is right. They’re running out of options. No food, no water, and both injured to hell.

“That’s okay,” Tony says. There’s a deep sadness in his chest that he can’t quite place. “Rest up here for a bit. Get that spidey strength back.”

“How’s your leg?”

“Not so good,” he replies honestly. “But don’t worry about that right now okay?”

“M’okay.”

It doesn’t take long for Peter to nod off again. Away from the cover of the helicopter, they’re much more exposed. Tony knows realistically that they won’t survive much longer out here. He knows realistically that he should find them shelter, maybe even water, but the idea is too much a fantasy to ever be achieved in his current state.

It’s out of his hands, now.

---

Harsh coughing brings Tony out of a fitful slumber. He doesn’t remember falling asleep but surely he must have, the sky now painted in neon oranges and pinks as opposed to the glare of the morning. They’re still lying in the middle of the clearing and Tony can’t feel his fingers and toes.

And Peter? Peter is choking.

Tony pushes himself towards the boy, biting his cheek harshly when his leg flares with pain. Peter is turned on his side, clutching his abdomen with both hands and struggling to breathe. There’s thick red blood spraying out of his mouth with each cough and Tony watches in horror as it doesn’t stop.

“Peter?”

If the kid can hear him, he doesn’t acknowledge it. The coughing persists, the bottom half of his face painted red.

He almost doesn’t notice the plane.

Tony feels frozen. He’s sure Peter is dying.

“Tony!”

The voice is distant. Tony feels strong wind whip through his clothes, his hair. He holds Peter’s hand and rubs his back.

“Tony!”

He spares a glance away from Peter and sees Rhodey hanging from a plane by a long rope, slowly descending towards them. His eyes are wide, reflecting Tony’s fear.

“Hurry! He- he’s dying-”

The relief of their rescue is buried in the very real possibility that Peter won’t make it out off the ground. His struggles for air are getting weaker now, lips tinted blue.

“T’ny.”

“Don’t talk kid,” Tony says. “Save your air.”

Rhodey reaches the ground and unclips his harness from the rope that had carried him there. He starts racing towards them, talking hurriedly over a com.

“Tony.”

One of the kid’s hands finds its way on Tony’s arm, just as it had when the helicopter was moments from hitting the ground. It scratches weakly at the fabric, eyes becoming more frantic.

“You’re going to be okay. Rhodey’s here. He’s going to help-”

“Oh my God!” Rhodey falls to the earth beside them, hands ghosting over Peter. “We need to get him in the sky now.”

Tony can feel his body shutting down. Everything that had happened since the helicopter began to plummet out of the sky comes crashing down around him. There’s a sharp sting of acid in his throat and he feels weak and dizzy.

He can hardly feel the pain anymore.

“I can’t carry him,” Tony says. “My leg. You need to take him. Take him first- come back for me after.”

“And the pilot?”

“Dead.”

Rhodey doesn’t waste any more time. After giving Tony’s shoulder a sharp squeeze, he pulls Peter up into his arms into a bridal carry. The boy, through his coughs, finds it within himself to scream. He jerks against the pain, hands curling into Rhodey’s clothes. Rhodey shifts the kid in his arms and his mouth moves softly in words Tony can’t hear.

As they turn and leave, Peter reaches out towards him, the distance between them growing.

“You’ll be okay,” Tony says to himself, though it’s clear the boy won’t hear. It’s a mantra, a promise.

“You’ll be okay.”

He watches dizzily as Rhodey runs back towards the plane. The world is shifting in a way that he’s not accustomed too. It makes him nauseous and tired and oh god he hopes Peter will be okay.

As his vision fades, he sees Rhodey secure himself back to the rope, holding Peter protectively against his chest. Even from where he sits, far away, he can see the kid’s red blood shining bright against his face.

His kid.

His Peter.

It’s the last thought he has before the world makes one last vicious twist, and he falls back into darkness.

---

He wakes up on the plane.

It’s a strange feeling, being weightless in more ways than one. They must have him hooked to some good drugs because he can barely keep his eyes open and his leg is blissfully unproblematic. From what he can see, he notices Peter laying in a stretcher beside him. The kid’s eyes are open too, but only slightly. He’s covered in bandages and tubes and wires. With numb fingers, Tony reaches out and touches the kid’s arm.

Peter shifts to look at him and smiles when their eyes meet. For the first time in two days, there’s safety in them.

“Hey,” Peter says. His voice is raw.

“Hey yourself,” Tony giggles. God, he feels higher than a kite.

Peter giggles too, his pupils still blown to hell. He shifts ever so slightly in order to lean closer to Tony and whispers as if uttering a secret. “No offence but that- that camping trip really sucked.”

“I agree.”

“I mean. I mean- there weren’t even any marshmallows.”

Tony laughs loudly. He can see Rhodey out of the corner of his eye near the wall, watching them in a weary, bemused expression. His gratitude for his friend is beyond words.

“Don’t worry,” Tony says. “Next time there’ll be, there’ll be-,” but the words die as everything blurs in a soft array of melding colors. He forgets what there’ll be, and when his vision steadies, Peter’s eyes are closed. He looks incredibly young, Tony thinks. Too young.

“No next time,” Tony decides. “No sir.”

He reaches out across his stretcher to Peter’s and grabs the boy’s wrist. The contact calms the last ember of his anxiety, and all the tension seems to drain out of his body.

They’re okay.

They’re going to be okay.

#my fic #irondad #irondad fic #peter parker #tony stark #spider-man #hurt/comfort #whump #found family #mcu #tony & peter #spiderson #writing #peter parker whump #posted yesterday #hope you enjoy <3