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layraket · 3 months

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OKAY TIME FOR ME HAVING A BREAKDOWN ABOUT THE UPDATE 'CUZ I NEED A DISTRACTION RIGHT NOW

i cant explain why this exact img is so funny to me. im not able to give any context or explanation. im physically unnable to do that.

my guy is tired :( give him a rest pls

GOTTA GO FAST!!!!! (i almost chocked with my water seeing this idk its just. that face. and pose.)

🧍‍♂️

hes PISSED. mr postman start running. faster.

i love this drawing. Jojo's sister made a good job catching sky's mood

LEGEND AND HYRULE TOGETHER!!! THE GUYS!!!! DOWNFALL DUO CRUMBS!!! YEAHHHH!!!

THEY LAUGH HAPPILY AS THEY SHOULD

wild seems so small next to these two. i know he's average height. but. idk. their cub.

i wonder why is he saying this

do u know something time??? care to share???? did u tried it????? or maybe is just a joke or smth and im overlooking

okay so. mandatory moment to contemplate of how does jojo make the backgrounds.

Theyre so pretty and dinamic, and they blend so well with the characters. I admire her for this, it is something that makes my brain go brrrr

fi.............

AGAIN THIS ATTENTION TO DETAILS

i have no words. clapping

THIS SKY'S EXPRESION HERE. THIS ONE.

that man has so many regrets. and misses a lot of moments already lived that will no come back again. He just haves what's left of these times, what's left of her presense.

OKAY IM NOT PROMISING TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT THIS BUT UUHHHH IT IS TEMPTING

🏃‍♂️

DINK'S HELMET JUST THERE GIVES ME CHILLS.

I remember the first time i read the comic, i didn't know there was more and got stuck like an entire month thinking that Twilight was still dying. i hated dink for so long just for that. and the fucking massive thing that he transformed into. urgh.

i love wind so much he has the best expressions of them all

poor guy hes tired! let him have some credit goddamnit!

GLUP GLUP GLUP GLUO GLUP GLUP GLUP GLU

as a final comment. i love how does time looks in this exact pannel. just. idk.

i love jojo's art style thats all i like analyzing it with a microscope and enjoying all little details like colors and expressions and shadding an

(art credits obviously towards @linkeduniverse ! )

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe update #lu update #lu spoilers #linked universe spoilers #not tagging all of them.#lu sky #well. he appeared the whole update so.#he gets a tag #as a treat for doing a lot of work #good job sky #i talk #long post

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one-winged-dreams · 10 months

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I've been coming up with Lore™ for my Bloodlines insert and decided he needed a sire so this is he.

His name is Jean and he's just kinda here to vibe.

I decided to give HIM the maned wolf theme because he's long. Just... So long.

He turned gangrel!Adri in '94, so insert is relatively young but he's been around for a while.

He's Anarch in belief but he totally doesn't believe in labels, man.

Adding his info here for convenience's sake

He was embraced in Texas in the 1870's so he absolutely started out as a vampire cowboy. Like, he was a cowboy for a good while.

He's actually half Apache on his father's side.

At one point he had an existential crisis over the changing of time and was basically nobody until America's hippie years, which is the personality he's clung to up to current times (Bloodlines included)

He didn't pick up the aesthetic but he very much joined the punk movement of the 80s and didn't let that go either.

So he seems chill but is also full of deep seated rage at any given time.

Very anal about recycling

#i've known him for all of like 8 hours and i am so attached already #and i hope y'all will love him to because I'm probably not going to shut the fuck up about him #virus art #he gets a tag #a beast who's burdened by his bite

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selsieeeo · 1 year

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Give Me back my Son

Based/Inspired off of @llondonfog potion!au because I wail on the inside every time I think about it 🥲 I also can’t think of a good title rn. It’s 11pm rn I can’t think and wrote this quick out to get it out of my head. Probably some grammar mistakes

Lilia watched from the stands as Vargas introduced the start of the tournament that Night Raven College and Royal Sword Academy held each year, switching the stadium from school to school each year. He would have watched with anticipation this year as Sebek was in the tournament this year but he couldn’t bring the heart to be excited at all.

Not without his son Silver…

No less than three months ago, everything was fine. He was happy, his son was doing well. Sebek still argued with Silver. Malleus talked to the Ramshackle Perfect about Gargoyles. It was all perfect and he was happy. Then his son disappeared.

It was the evening, he had been in the lounge, patiently waiting for his son to come back. He had assumed Silver must have fallen asleep again. No worries there, Silver usually managed to wake up and come back before it struck midnight.

It was past 11pm now. Silver wasn’t back. Strange. Lilia frowns and goes to search for his son.

He searches all over the places where Silver would most likely be at. He found nothing. It was as if Silver disappeared without a trace…

Lilia felt his stomach drop. How could Silver have just disappeared just like that? He alerts Malleus and Sebek about Silver’s disappearance and they assist Lilia in trying to find Silver.

It’s nearly 1am now. They still haven’t found a trace of Silver at all.

“Lilia…it isn’t like Silver to just disappear.” Malleus says. “He could have been…”

“Kidnapped?” Lilia finishes miserably. Malleus nods. Lilia didn’t want to believe it, but he knew it was the only possible option left. Who dares try to steal the former general’s precious son from him?

A week had passed by, news of Silver’s disappearance had spread like wildfire. Crowley had given Lilia, Malleus and Sebek permission to leave school grounds to search for Silver.

After going through the magic mirror they agreed to go to the Shaftlands first to search for Silver. They had searched for quite some time. Then Lilia managed to secure a clue. Fragments of an old kingdom were found in the north of the Shaftlands. They headed to the north.

Lilia had seen a brown haired human confronting them as the human asked what they’re purpose was so far in the north. Lilia took note of the insignia. The same insignia of the kingdom Lilia helped destroy…

Malleus had explained to the human that they were simply trying to find someone. A person named Silver. Something inside Lilia suddenly snapped. This guard…he remembered taking him down but not killing him before he found…Silver…

The brown haired guard was the one to take Silver.

Lilia remembered suddenly shouting at the guard in rage. Demanding him to give him his son back. He would have gone even farther to killing the guard if it weren’t for Malleus telling him to calm down as they needed the information. The sly guard had slipped away during the commotion.

Eventually, Queen Maleficia ordered Lilia to go back to Night Raven College as this kidnapping had happened close to her grandson. Though upset, he complied and returned to the college. He did know the queen did have a soft spot for his son and took a guess that perhaps she would help in one way or another to find his missing son.

Two months had passed since Silver’s disappearance. It was as if it disappeared from thin air without a trace.

Now here they were again. At the tournament. Lilia sat besides Malleus who placed his hand on his caretaker. “We will find him.” Malleus says to Lilia.

The tournament begins. The representatives for Royal Sword Academy come out. One of them made Lilia’s heart drop in an instant.

A 17 year old boy comes out of the tent fitted in Royal Sword’s uniform as if he always belonged there. He had silver hair tied up in a low ponytail and auroral eyes.

It was as if the world decided to drop his son back to the world.

His son…Silver…

Lilia wanted to get up and just fly over to Silver but his bats did it before him. They suddenly flew over to the RSA’s representatives, many of them shrieking and taking cover. He heard them muttering about this being a sabotage. He doesn’t care, all he sees is his son. His son with his bats who are happy to see him again.

It takes all of Malleus’s strength to hold Lilia back from jumping over the railing to join his bats. Malleus told Lilia that they can wait once intermission arrives upon them to see Silver. Lilia nods absentmindedly. All he can think about is that his son was back. His most precious son. The one thing that lights up his world. He hears about Sebek confronting Silver and that Silver didn’t seem to remember Sebek at all.

Lilia frowns at that.

What did they do to you, Silver? He wonders.

Intermission arrives and Lilia immediately leaves the stands to find his son. What a coincidence for him to run into him soon after.

“Ah, you must be the student that owns the bats.” Silver says. “I just want to help return them to you.”

Lilia smiles warmly. How thoughtful of his son!

“What is your name?” Silver asks.

“Lilia. Lilia Vanrouge.” Lilia replies. From what he can tell, Silver seems to have his memories wiped clean. Who would do this to him?

“It’s nice to meet you Vanrouge-San.” Silver says as he gives back the bats.

“Please call me Lilia, no need for honorifics.” Lilia says as he pats one of his bats on their head. The bats were sad that they had to leave Silver. He understood their feelings.

“Silver. There you are.” Lilia’s blood freezes. He knows that voice…

Silver turns around and greets a certain brown haired guard. “Ah hello Andrei.”

Him.

Andrei looks at Lilia. “Who is he?” He asks Silver.

“Ah that’s Vanrouge-I mean Lilia. I met him when returning his bats to him.”

“I see…” Andrei’s eyes lingered on Lilia as he placed his hand on Silver’s shoulder.

“Uh-Andrei is my guardian, ever since my parents died.” Silver explained trying to ease up the sudden awkward silence.

“Guardian…? I See.” Lilia says, trying not to sound angry. How dare Andrei. How dare he take his son and claim him as his guardian. He did this. The vampire fae restrained himself from attacking the guard and kept his cool. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Andrei” he says.

Andrei looks at him stiffly. “Pleasure is all mine. Come Silver, you must have your daily tea now.”

Tea, huh. Lilia could see the grimace coming from Silver but he nods and bides goodbye to the old fae.

Lilia stands there utterly shocked and angry. He’s angry at Andrei for taking his son away. He’s shocked that his amnesiac son now attends RSA.

But that doesn’t matter right now. No matter what, he’s fueled with a new mission. He’s going to get his son back no matter the cost. Getting his memories back? Not a problem. All it costs is Andrei's blood…

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silentwillowwhisperer · 4 months

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I’m back

hi!! I’m back, this time with cat content!

This is Jerry:

Beautiful gloomy lion king!!

His sister is soft as a cloud and loves pets but is shyer than him so I couldn’t get pictures of her. I will bring back more updates tomorrow.

#tawny post #cat post #he gets a tag #Jerry tag

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tormentum-ab-intra · 6 months

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When I Am Gone

CWs and general content notes: characters thinking one’s going to die/expectation of death as the focus, (but one of them’s okay with it,) (they’re both really bad at feelings but in opposite ways,) angst with a happy ending, some blood, brief mentions of (unnamed) (monster) corpses, treating of envenomated wounds/brief needle mentions, brief mentions of alcohol (but no actual drinking,) brief references to (fantasy) religion

Word count: 2,423! --

“Ansel?” Aban’s voice carries easily in the stillness, hoarse though it is, close though Ansel isn’t. A town like this is never loud at night. People here rise with the sun, sleep with the sun, and when danger comes creeping in from the neighboring dark, they don’t run, they don’t fight; they hide. Usually it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

The night is cool and still. Silent, apart from the chirr of cicadas and the fervent prayers in the hearts of the townsfolk; the last of the priory’s bells stopped ringing hours ago. Aban doesn’t miss the melody.

Bells and prayers may work fine to make certain creatures wary, and cantrips at the door may even turn one away for a time, but it won’t stop them once they’re hungry enough not to mind that little discomfort standing between them and a meal.

That’s what guys like Ansel and Aban are for. With the right blade or spell or methods, anything can be put down. Even kings. Even gods. That’s blasphemy, though, so Aban makes the sign of Shoik with one hand and puts the thought out of his mind.

He wonders how much of the town is really sleeping, and how many are lying awake in bed, listening, waiting for the noise to start up again. He wonders if the thing they’re hunting is waiting too, or if it’s creeping closer even now, hungry and soon to strike.

Eyes on the shadows, Aban says Ansel’s name again, but this time doesn’t wait for the response he knows isn’t coming. “Will you be sad, when I am gone?”

Somehow, the next rasp of stone against iron as Ansel sharpens his blade manages to sound annoyed.

“I think you will,” Aban continues. “Without me, who else is going to rush forth to save you in the nick of time, allowing himself to be tragically wounded in your st--”

“You’re not dying, Aban.”

Yep. Annoyed. Aban laughs, and wonders if Ansel cares how weak it sounds. “Aren’t I, though?”

Ansel lowers his blade, and baleful eyes turn to stare at Aban, daring him to say more. He isn’t near enough to smack him though, so dare Aban does.

“I mean, really. When’s the last time you lost this much blood and lived to tell?”

Ansel’s ever-present smile, the one Aban’s never seen him without in all the years they’ve known each other, turns sharp and sneering. “Last week.” Except last week they had Aanethe with them, and his sigils and healing magic did a hell of a lot more for Ansel than these makeshift bandages are doing for Aban. “You’re fine,” Ansel says, the sign of Mascah bending his fingers. He’s praying. He does care.

“I’m fine,” Aban agrees, crooking bloodied fingers to match. Say it, and make it so.

Ansel resumes sharpening his blade. “That’s what I just said.”

Aban takes that for the command to stop talking that it is, worrying at the fraying edges of his torn-shirt bandages with restless hands. He should be out there, searching between all the little shops and houses, hunting down their quarry before it can decide to come hunting for them -- or worse, start hunting townsfolk again. Instead he’s sitting here, worse than useless. Bleeding out. A liability.

Ansel should be out there, too, finishing the job they started. Instead he’s stuck here, sharpening knives that don’t need it. Babysitting. That, or he’s hoping the noise and the smell of blood will draw the thing they’re hunting to them.

Hard to say.

It wouldn’t be the first time Aban’s been used as bait, though it’d be the first he’s been so while too hurt to stand on his own. He wonders if that’s supposed to bother him.

The scrape of the whetstone is grating, but familiar. Ansel knows what he’s doing. Aban isn’t worried.

It’s still warm when Ansel drops it on the headman’s doorstep. Warm and bloody and twitching. Someone cracks the door open to stare at it, eyes damn near popping out of their skull, and it stares right back, stares until the twitching stops and the bleeding slows and its eyes glaze over.

“What…is it?”

Ansel turns to leave, tracking bloody boot prints down the tidy, cobbled path leading up to the house. “Dead.”

“Wait, but --”

“Figure it out!” Diplomacy is Alabastard’s thing, not Ansel’s, and he doesn’t have the time. He ignores the questions aimed at his back and makes for the alley where he left Aban.

The now-empty alley, as ill fate would have it. Where the fuck has he gotten off to?

Ansel draws his blade and stops at the mouth of the alley, eyes roving, tracing shadows, rooftops, and alcoves. “Aban?”

The wind rustles through laden clotheslines. Shutters rattle. Nothing breathes.

“If this is your idea of a joke, Aban, I’m going to stab you in your fucking neck when I find you.” Ansel’s eyes catch on fresh blood on some of the alley walls. It’s there, and on the ground, and about a dozen other places besides the spot where he left Aban. Crates, neatly stacked last he saw, lie smashed and scattered.

Dammit.

Looks like the job isn’t finished yet after all. It’ll be extra for the second problem the headman forgot to mention, and if he has to spend it all on rites and booze for Aban’s fucking funeral…

“Dumb bastard,” he mutters, advancing slowly. “Hang on. I’ll find you.”

He finds Aban clear on the opposite side of the block, in some random house’s garden, lying pinned beneath a corpse. Not a moving one, thankfully. Ansel can’t decide whether to be annoyed that Aban’s singing or just glad he still can. “New friend of yours?”

The singing comes to an abrupt stop, and Aban beams at him through messy hair and grit and blood. “Oh, yes! We’ve come to an agreement!” The creature’s teeth are still embedded in his shoulder, the hilt of his blade sticking out from its back. “Never did catch her name, though.”

“I told you to stay put.”

“My new friend had other plans.”

Ansel laughs in spite of himself; sharp, and derisive, because if it weren’t it’d be fond, and Aban would never shut up about it. “Whatever. Let’s get you out of here.”

This corpse is heavier than the last, and Ansel doesn’t bother dragging it all the way back to the headman’s house. Someone will find it in the morning. Aban’s only half as heavy, but twice as clingy. Cold fingers hook into Ansel’s shirt. A cold face burrows against the side of his neck. Ansel allows it, just this once, and wastes no time in carrying his friend back to safety.

“Ansel?”

“Yeah.”

Their room at the inn is dark, save for the candles standing lit on the table. Ansel gives the needle a sharp tug, pulling the thread taut, and lays a heavy hand on Aban’s shoulder to keep him steady. The skin around the wound he’s stitching looks mottled and clammy, and the booze he poured over it for want of an antiseptic smells like a wasted buzz and a headache in the making. Boiled water would’ve been better, but this room doesn’t have a stove.

“I think --” Hissing, Aban shifts restlessly beneath Ansel’s hand. “You must want to kill me faster.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Ansel jabs the needle through skin again and pulls.

“You’re not --” Another hiss, then something closer to a whimper that Ansel refuses to feel guilty about. “You’re not being very careful.” Aban’s fingers dig into Ansel’s knee, but his grip’s so weak it barely hurts.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a damn medic, Aban. Suck it up. You’ll get over it.”

“Just like you’ll get over it when I’m gone, hmm?”

“When y -- would you stop that?!” Ansel bangs his fist on the table, fixed smile stretched thin, patience stretched thinner. “You’re not fucking going anywhere!”

Aban looks at him shrewdly. “You don’t believe that,” he says softly. He’s right. “So when I am gone, do you want my things?”

“No.” He’s going to finish making sure Aban doesn’t bleed to death in the next few hours, then they’re going home, and Aanethe will take care of it. That’s how it always works. That’s how it has to work. Aban will keep his things, and Ansel will keep trying to steal them when he isn’t looking.

Aban sighs. “Alright,” he says. It’s appeasement, not agreement; he’s just too tired to argue. He still wants Ansel to have his things, and Ansel will sooner bury another teammate than give them to anyone else.

“Ansel?”

“Fucking -- what!” Aban’s fingers are shaking where they cling to Ansel’s shirt, and for once Ansel almost feels bad for snapping. A little softer, he asks, “What now?”

“When I am gone, will you take care of Asa for me?”

Gritting his teeth, Ansel pulls the cloak around Aban’s shoulders a little tighter, urges their horse to run a little faster. “No -- okay, fine. Yes. Whatever.”

“And Abra?”

“Yeah.”

“And --”

“Just -- stop. Shut up. I’ll take care of your stupid cats. But you’re fine, alright? You’ll be fine.” Or all his efforts to keep Aban alive will have been for nothing, all the time they’ve spent together up ‘till now will have been for worse than nothing, and the day they first met will be his greatest regret.

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

Aban lets his head drop against Ansel’s shoulder, watching the landscape blur past. “You’re the boss.”

After that, they ride in silence.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” The door to Aban’s room shuts with a soft click, and just like that, Ansel’s locked away from what may very well be his teammate’s final moments. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

Aanethe stands between him and the door, unimpressed. Bored. “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal of things. Don’t you hate the guy anyway?”

Ansel doesn’t have an answer for that, mostly because any other day, Aanethe would be right. On some level he’s aware he’s being irrational. Today though, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how annoying Aban is, or how many times he’s wished to never see his stupid face again. He needs to be in that room. He needs to know what’s going on.

Mind made up, Ansel takes a step forward, but Aanethe does the same with a hand out to stop him, more exasperated than anything else. “We told you, we need --”

“Yeah, absolute focus, I got that part.” The sigils inked on Ansel’s hands and forearms burn with uncast magic, the heat rising along with his anger until his sleeves begin to smolder. “I’m not a fucking child, Aanethe. I can sit quiet and give you your space, or whatever.”

Aanethe’s raised brow and the glance he casts at Ansel’s hands say he doesn’t believe him. “Then you can sit quiet and give us space outside this room.” Aanethe waves a hand dismissively. Ansel wants to strangle him.

“And if he dies? I’m supposed to just wait out here then, too?”

Aanethe shrugs. “Yes. But, but, but, I’m told you’ll have first pick of his belongings! Silver linings, hm? Yes?” He smiles, like that’s supposed to be reassuring.

It isn’t.

“If you don’t save him,” Ansel bites out, sigils smoking, nails biting into his palms, “you’ll be next. You, then Ambrose.”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” Aanethe peers down at him through the spectacles perched on the end of his nose, eyes blank, lips twitching at the corners, like he’s trying to decide whether it’d be appropriate to laugh or not. There’s blood -- Aban’s -- on the hand he raises to pat Ansel’s cheek. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, genial. “You can’t kill us, little slayer. Don’t you think we’re just a bit above your paygrade?”

Fucking jackass.

Ansel stalks off without another word. If he stays he’ll start swinging, and Aanethe has better things to be doing with his time than getting his ass beat. Namely, fixing Aban.

At this point, a drink seems long overdue.

Ansel ignores the creaking of floorboards behind him. He isn’t in the mood for another of Alabaster’s pep talks. He isn’t in the mood for anything, really, not since being sent away by Aanethe. They won’t let him see Aban, they won’t let him ask questions; all he’s been doing for three days is wait. All he can do now is wait. “Not now, Alabastard. Save it for the funeral.”

“Really? Who’s died?”

Ansel stiffens, breath caught in his throat, pulse tapping in his ears, as footsteps cross the veranda towards him. The voice isn’t Alabaster’s. He’s hearing things. It’s Alba playing tricks. It’s his imagination, projecting to fill a void that shouldn’t be.

“Nothing to say?”

Not to you. Not if you’re…

Ansel stays looking out at the courtyard, willing the ghost to disappear. It isn’t real if he doesn’t acknowledge it. He isn’t gone until Aanethe declares it.

Not until Ansel sees a body.

The thing wearing Aban’s likeness stops just behind him. “I’m disappointed!” it says. “I thought you might have missed me a bit more than that.” It sounds just like him, somehow. Maybe it really is Aban’s ghost, here to sit with him one last time. It might stay to haunt him if he ignores it, so he won’t turn to face it just yet.

Except the warmth at his back feels real. The arms wrapping around his waist feel real. Weight settles on Ansel’s shoulder, hair brushing the side of his neck, and Ansel holds his breath. He’s waiting for the ghost to dissipate, or for their poltergeist to start laughing, to change back, to go away.

It doesn’t.

“You were right,” Aban says, and his arms around Ansel’s waist wind a little bit tighter. Ansel traces familiar scars with his fingertips, and those feel real, too. “Now you don’t get to have all my lovely things. Are you disappointed?”

With not quite a laugh, not quite a sob, Ansel closes his eyes, fingers bent in prayer. “Angry, too.” His voice sounds strange in his own ears. Strangled. “I should kill you myself.”

“Ansel,” Aban murmurs, soft, almost coaxing. “Don’t cry, Ansel. It’s…weird.”

“I’m not.” He’s lying, of course; his shoulders are shaking. The courtyard’s gone blurry, and his words still sound choked and thin. He still can’t turn around; not because it’s a ghost, but because it isn’t.

“Alright,” Aban says, still holding him. Appeasement, not agreement. “I understand. I missed you, too.”

#whump #character death #but not really i'm just tagging it since a character THINKS he's going to die and his friend thinks so too #angst #but make it #angst with a happy ending #blood and injury #treating of wounds #needle mention #alcohol mention #aban #ansel #aanethe #original characters #alabaster #ambrose #<-can't remember if i mentioned him in this but he's there in aban's room with aanethe working on healing so #he gets a tag #tormentum ab intra

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sleepy-achilles · 1 year

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Unpopular opinions but wrestling nepo babies that thrive off their parents/families career make me so fuckin sad. Like, if you are talented and good, make the career for yourself. Please. I'm sick of these family obsessed storylines. Like yeah mentioned your family every now and then, bring them in sometimes, but every promo? Please?

Anyways shout out to my favourite nepo baby, Randal Keith Orton.

My fav, you keep doing you viper. Also happy late birthday.

#wwe #wwf #randy orton #he gets a tag #the rest can suck my balls

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absentmoon · 2 years

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CODSWORTH

#MY HUSBANDDDD NOOOO #HE GETS A TAG #⚙️.codsworth #liveblog.txt

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manenimittliv-moved · 2 years

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Anna going "I don't really have a type" and then people seeing Bruno and Eisen side by side.

#they look the same is the joke #( bruno. )#( eisen. )#he gets a tag

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ebonyheartnet · 4 months

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-Recording begins-

Spider-Man: Hi folks! I’d like to give a PSA to my usual villains, and anyone else with ideas for the next two months.

Spider-Man: *holds up a brick sized lump of metal* See this? It’s titanium!

Spider-Man: *starts flattening it out and shaping it*

Spider-Man: See, we all know that I’m crazy strong, but I never wanna really hurt anybody right? Right. While that hasn’t changed, something very important does right around this time of year.

Spider-Man: *pulls off a glove and pulls a chunk into a long stem with his nails carving lines for added texture*

Spider-Man: See, this is what we like to call exam season. Anybody who knows anything about college can tell you that it drives people up the wall, and I already climb mine when I’m antsy.

Spider-Man: *starts winding the thin sheet around the stem, delicately crimping petals in place*

Spider-Man: I do wanna be clear that this isn’t a threat, okay? I’m still not interested in crossing the line, which brings me to my point.

Spider-Man: *throws the titanium rose at the brick wall behind him, stem first, and embeds it all the way through*

Spider-Man: /That/ was restrained because I could focus enough to have full control. If I’m extremely tired or otherwise distracted, there’s just as much risk of me slipping up as someone operating heavy machinery. I’m probably not going to remember what sleep is for two whole months, so remember!

Spider-Man: *pulls out a brick and snaps it like a cookie*

Peter fucking Parker: Don’t.

#peter b parker #peter parker #ebony writes the thing #word girl #how tf did I forget to tag that smh #into the spider verse #also forgot to tag THAT ffs 🤦🏽#anyways. Miles and the other spider stumbled upon recordings of college!Peter B Parker. and uh.#this man is getting dragged across the multiverse lol. but he did in fact Ace his exams.

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