#Linyphiidae

[jupiterswasphouse]

[PHOTO TAKEN: MAY 4TH, 2024 | Image ID: A photo of a brown and black sheet weaver spider in its web between a set of wild flowers /End IDs.]

[rogueportraits]

🎀 ― a childhood memory. and 🌪 ― a scary memory. for jon

walk down memory lane

🎀 ― a childhood memory.

Jon is nine years old the first time he works the fields. The land belongs to Granny, but Mr. Thompson leases this part of it to grow his wheat. Granny quotes that idle hands are the devil's workshop, and Jon knows he's been idle during the tail end of this spring - with her sick, he's been learning out of workbooks for the most part. He's worked in their garden and helped with their meals, at the least, but hadn't done a good job at either.

So it's good that he's out here with his shirtsleeves sticking to his arms in the morning June heat. He doesn't want idle hands, not at all. He sits up on the small platform next to Mr. Thompson, the old combine harvester rattling over the field and jolting his bones. The occasional piece of chaff flies up into his face, making him flinch. There's no noise but the grinding roar of machinery, and that suits Jon just fine. He doesn't know how to talk to most people anyways.

"I've got a son about your age, Jonathan. Name's Connor," Mr. Thompson says after a while. Jon can hardly hear him through his earplugs. "Wish he'd come out and learn the trade like you."

Jon nods.

"You ever run into him? I know you're takin' care of Mrs. Keeny, but if you ever go into Brooklet like the other kids..." Mr. Thompson trails off. Or just gets quiet enough that the combine engine overpowers him. Jon's not sure.

"We only go for groceries," Jon supplies.

"Right. Well, if you ever see him, say hello. He needs a good influence like you."

They've reached the end of the row. Mr. Thompson turns the wheel, setting them back eastwards. Jon wonders what makes someone a good influence. He knows what makes people bad influences; Granny's taught him well about that. Other children aren't raised right, so they raise hell instead. That's why he isn't allowed to speak to them, and why he just goes to worship instead of Sunday school.

He shields his eyes from the sun with a hand and looks out at the field in silence.

🌪 ― a scary memory.

Fear's always been a strange thing for Jon. He used to be scared of the dark, of lightning strikes, of God's wrath, of his Granny's disappointment and what followed. It had pecked at the inside of his skull like a chick in its egg, wanting to get out.

Now it doesn't, or maybe it had managed to escape. He still feels the hummingbird-tremor of terror in his heart, or the nausea of anxiety in his stomach, but his mind is perfectly clear. Whenever fear strikes, it's often as if he's a passenger in his own body.

Bo's cornered him in the boy's washroom again. Jon's grown almost a head taller than him, but the other boy's twice as wide with the meaty frame of a star linebacker. Puberty and high school haven’t changed a thing about them otherwise.

"Saw you looking at my girl," Bo begins.

Jon had been. It's hard not to look at Sherry, and he knows he's not the only one that does it. She's beautiful. He wonders why Bo doesn't go after the other boys, considering that they go right past looking into commenting. Maybe it's due to the familiarity the two of them have, or his looks, or-

Bo's fist slams directly into his stomach. Jon wheezes and braces against the tiled wall. His heart's in his throat. His mind is still clear. He looks down his nose with lidded eyes and is rewarded with another blow to his ribs. He'd have something to say, if he had the breath for it.

Fear's a protective reflex. He wonders what it means to lack it. Presumably something like the present scenario.

"Can't even scream," Bo mutters eventually, stepping back. His Adam's apple works and he spits a wad of phlegm at Jon's chest. It lands wetly on the third button down from his collar.

When the other boy's finally gone, Jon prods at his ribs with the same detached interest he'd used to dissect a frog last year. Nothing seems broken. He can see his pulse pounding as he wipes the spit away with a paper towel, but it doesn't reach his head.

He has two more class periods to attend before the end of the day, and he'll be late if he hangs around in here any longer. He straightens his shirt, tucking it back into his slacks, and strides off to retrieve his books from his locker.

[volucerrubidus]

 “What ho, fellow humans. Are you enjoying having skin today?” 

OSP Starters || Accepting

Tim lifted their head from their desk, one of their cheeks now red from where it had been pressed to the surface for an indecipherable amount of time. "Actually, no. You want mine?"

[the-clockwork-three]

OH HEY any Mechanisms fic recommendations??

Between the fact that I haven't actually read that much Mechs fic and I'm a divil for not bookmarking the stuff I enjoyed.... uh no not really 😅

Like obviously plugging @ladydragonkiller 's stuff, especially Metal Bound Their Hearts Beat Still, but you've probably already heard about them haha

[fornora]

❛ there is some good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for. ❜

from the hero

Victor’s eyes flick over the displayed text and subsequent image - a red-and-gold grinning cartoon spider. He sighs and reaches for the keyboard before thinking better of it, grabbing at the lab room’s overhead microphone. Whoever it is most likely has access to the entire system. Frost gently flakes from the microphone’s joints as he repositions it closer.

“Spare me the fortune cookie aphorisms. There is not much good in someone accessing another’s private work, is there? Leave me be.”

He moves to cut the computer’s power. This was the issue with a network connected to the World Wide Web. Anyone could access it with the right tools, and those tools were now more available than they’d ever been…

“The web,” he adds as an afterthought. “Is that the reasoning for the spider?”

[dementedspeedster]

POST - IT NOTE!

Accepting || Send “ POST - IT NOTE ” for what my muse would leave yours in a post - it note message ! @linyphiidae

There's a whip of wind the passes by Lonnie and in the next moment as it dissipates she's sure to realize that there's a sticky note attached to her gold mask.

It says:

You might be a fast hacker, but I know how to brute force my way in even faster. Better luck next time. - Inertia

[kryptonianclone]

"I believe if I can see it and I can touch it, then it's real. That's what I believe."

The Mummy 1999 || Accepting

"Okay but like you can't touch a ghost your hand just goes right through them!!" Kon would know he was friends with a ghost. It was a whole thing with ghosts! Kon scrunched up his face. "So you're saying if I called a ghost to come over here right now and say hi to you that you wouldn't believe it? You'd just say 'You're not a ghost' to her face?"

[redsleuthed]

❛ i had it under control. you didn’t need to do that. ❜ (90s era or RR, take your pick!)

❝ GET OUT OF HERE. You're only making it worse! ❞ Just like the black diamonds incident, he caused another headache in Gotham. The rioters got out of control, and innocent people were getting crushed under the crowd of the angry mob. ❝ Thanks to you, there are innocent people being harmed. Does your radical ideology excuse this? ❞ // @linyphiidae

[nrth-wind-a]

“i try to still look with wonder on the world.” (for Sejanus)

Dance Fever Starters II Accepting

Sejanus could at first hardly bring himself to look at the redhead beside him. She was so... everything that he wasn't. Brave. Smart. A real influence for change. When Lonnie spoke, the whole world listened, or at least, Sejanus thought so.

He certainly did, anyhow.

"Wonder..." He mused. "I wonder what wonderful things are left to look upon."

Sejanus glanced over at Lonnie. His gaze was uncertain and reticent, but all the same, he looked. "What things of fancy catch your attention? I'd like to see the world the way you do, even just for a second."

[empressivc]

"Hey, look. Steal from the rich. Do it."

Anita looks at Anarky, and underneath her mask she's raising an eyebrow, a very unimpressed eyebrow. She has no qualms about committing some... less than legal actions to get the job done but right now stealing from the rich didn't align with anything she had planned at the moment.

She would steal from the rich, no question, but she's gonna need a little something more than that to spurn her into action. A good, solid reason. One with plenty of moral fiber.

Or just, one that made a modicum of sense. Years of the illogical and weird have primed her for accepting things and just going with the flow.

"Uh huh. Any particular rich person you wanna target or should I just rob the next person who debate what country club they should go to?" Anita asked, sarcasm lacing her tone.

[1mpulsee]

@linyphiidae / cont .

❝ you’re fine . uh …. I just get jumpy about that one . ❞

nervously, he picks at the frayed threads of his impulse suit . a scuffle resulted in a few tears, the biggest and most relevant being one that peeled away the fabric around one of his knees, revealing the SCAR in question . it was no easy task to give a speedster a scar — especially one so large . vaguely circular and violent, the reddened mark nearly spanned his entire kneecap on one side .

❝ I’ll be just fine . it just … aches . sometimes . I try to ignore it . ❞ he glances up, then away . ❝ it’s … okay if you wanna touch it, now . I’m alright . ❞

❝ … that scar’s basically the definition of a long story, by the way . I’m sure you know how it is . kinda hard to NOT get any these days, right ? ❞

[jupiterswasphouse]

[PHOTO TAKEN: APRIL 13TH, 2024 | Image ID: A photo of a black and yellow filmy dome spider in its web amongst a pile of sticks /End ID.]

[rogueportraits]

❛  don't flatter yourself, a fifth-grader could've done this as well.  ❜ - for ed :)

random dialogue sentence starters (pt. 1)

A fifth-grader! A fifth-grader! Ed would like to see what sort of child could come up with this particular scheme - what, would they have bought an entire soundstage with their allowance money?

Right. It's needling, he knows this. Gotham's full of annoying, quippy vigilantes that aren't even creative with their wordplay. He hasn't seen this one before though. Whoever they are, they're channeling some sort of secular version of the Monty Python Spanish Inquisition skits. No, wait, there's the circle-A symbol emblazoned in gold on their hat. Some sort of political firebrand then. Boring.

He beams a thousand-watt smile to the cameras and leans forward on his cane, fixing his gaze on the vigilante. The current contestants look on in fear.

"If you wanted to audition for Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?, I think they recruit on the other coast. We'll gladly take you, though! Nothing like a late player to boost ratings. Girls!"

Query and Echo materialize from off-stage, pistols trained on Anarky. Query jerks her head towards the center of the stage, her auburn hair swaying with the movement. The meaning's clear.

Ed turns his attention back to his previous players. Disgust plays across his face. "You'll have to forgive the interruption. Not that any of you were doing particularly well, anyways, so consider this an intervention from on-high. We'll get back to our regularly scheduled programming after this lightning round. Anyways!"

He snaps his head back to Anarky. "Won't you introduce yourself to the audience?"

[volucerrubidus]

“I told you not to act recklessly like that. You might think you’re protecting me, but you’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep jumping in like that.”

Injury Starters || Accepting

"You don' like having a knight in shining armor at your service?" Tim grinned sloppily from where he was leaning heavily against the side of a cement stoop. A black eye was already blossoming under the fresh chip in his mask-- brass knuckles were so cheating-- and he was pretty sure he wasn't the only one who could hear the new click his bad knee made when it moved.

"Seriously, 's'funny way to say 'thank you, Red Rob'n.' Plus, I am actually immortal until proven mortal. Maybe those Etsy spells when I was twelve actually worked. Whaddya say, spider-monkey? Can I be your Edward Cullen?"

Admittedly, that was a bit much even for the outrageous flirt that Tim postured himself to be, and in a fleeting moment of sudden clarity, they blinked, adding, "I think I should go to the hospital."

[the-clockwork-three]

oh my god HI for the love of god HELLO!!! i don't care if you eat me alive or not :)

<- avid enthusiast of cannibalism (also the person who sent the "☄️✨" ask)

Haiiiii :) good morning, are we discussing viscera at half nine this fine (damp) day?

[volucerrubidus]

"Not bad?" Despite himself, Tim laughs.

"You are so full of yourself." He doesn't sound particularly troubled by that. In fact, it's almost fond. "How many digits of pi do you know, genius?"

"All right, fair. I won't press you.

... And, for what it's worth, more than twenty-something -- but seventeen's not bad for someone who still has their left and right brain intact."