#Parker King (oc)

[birdofcauthon14]

All That Remains: Preview No. 2

You know what time it is: progress report on my upcoming power-load of cringe!

Tagging for science and appreciation for their enabling, if they so wish to regard my works: @lavenderdaisychain @whentheresidentsareevil

All That Remains.

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. November 11, 2025. Day One. 6:45 A.M.

As the closing notes of Moskau by Dschinghis Khan gave way to Waterloo, the first famous song of the band whose music had kept her sane for the better part of her entire life, Ylva Elise Thorn jogged down the three steps of a small concrete staircase and turned onto the next sidewalk on her way to a new beginning.

Pittsburgh, it had to be said, was not - as the saying went - on Ylva's initial bingo card when she had been considering the move. At the time, all she knew was that Boston had ceased being an option and that, because if it, the cabin outside of Nashua also had to go unless she could find something in New Hampshire instead. That had almost become the goal - until the job opening which had brought her here.

A bit of wiggling. A touch of maneuvering. A new cabin, this one across the river from Aliquippa, Pennsylvania. And now…

Newness. The wondrous terror of newness, that eternal fuel for those seeking another chance and that eternal bane of autistic people.

Newness, and Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital. Ylva was given to understand that its emergency department was known as the Pitt to those who worked within its walls. It was part of a strategic collection of things she had been told on her preliminary visit to the hospital on Friday, where the administrator of PTMH - a fussy woman named Gloria, who Ylva suspected of covertly running for political office - had provided her the layout of the hospital, the emergency department, and the staff with whom she would be working.

Broadly, at least. One never knew others until one was amongst them. Ylva knew that of old, from her old life at St. Francis Memorial Hospital and lives even before that, but understanding it had been a more recent endeavor powered by loneliness and the patient determination of the woman who was now her best friend.

Well. That and the efforts of - others.

Some with her.

Some not.

Waterloo! I was defeated, you won the war, sang Agnetha and Frida in Ylva's earbuds, and she followed the concrete city pathways deeper into Pittsburgh, further up and further in toward her new post. Ylva might have admitted to herself, at some point, that she was not quite sure if she was capable of going through with such a dramatic shift in her circumstances were it not for her support system, but such an admission would have been a lie. The truth was that she knew she would not have made such a move, no matter the good there was in it or the fresh opening for moving on, were it not for those around her.

Well…mostly one of those around her. A voice which was always loud and enthusiastic and sometimes obnoxious enough as to defy words. A voice which had reminded her of all the things which had happened to her - to both of them - in Boston, and what letting go of the ghosts of those things might mean for her.

How close they had come together, the pair of them. How preciously close to the precipice of the abyss. Death, and irretrievable sorrow, and somehow that ghost was not even the most painful, because at least they were still alive.

So here Ylva was, once more working for a major hospital, once more with a cabin in the rural yonder outside a major city, and yet with everything so much different, from the smell of her surroundings to the particular nip in the winter air as licks of a November breeze fluttered the tails of her favorite gray peacoat. The more radically things changed, the more stubbornly and bizarrely they stayed the same.

She wondered how Gustaf was doing in all of this. What he was thinking, in the way cats thought of things. Was his new home so strange to him, or did he simply think of warm beds and getting his food on time?

At least now he could count on someone always there in the cabin with him. That just one of the benefits Ylva had come to realize in her new surroundings: a three-person household where only two of those persons left the house to work was far more convenient for feline royalty.

So how could I ever refuse? I feel like I win when I lose!

One more turn of a sidewalk, and PTMH came into Ylva's sight, stretching imperially above her in the way multi-floor hospitals had a way of doing. Hands stuffed in the pockets of her coat, rucksack bouncing against her back from her left shoulder as she walked, Ylva gave the street a cursory glance in both directions - few cars about at this time of morning, but it was always better safe than dead - and crossed, weaving her past an as-yet empty ambulance bay and into a pathway of stone columns on either side of her.

It was a great deal more artistry than there had been at St. Francis in Boston. Ylva had thought as much the first time she had laid her eyes on PTMH in person, and she thought it again now. No doubt it was something about the age of the building which made it seem like a great, monolithic relic of the days of emergency medicine past, where hospitals were not so often clean-cut for the sake of evoking images of prosperity and profit.

But Ylva also knew better. She had worked in hospitals for fifteen years, nine for the Royal Hallamshire Hospital in Sheffield and six for St. Francis, and she was acutely aware - though never quite accepting - of the difference in priorities between the British National Health Service and privatized hospitals in the United States.

But people always needed help. No matter where one worked, or how, or in what department, or in what capacity, there would always be people who needed help.

At least PTMH had the decency of looking like someplace where those people could find it. It had that even over Hallamshire.

Past the swinging doors of the staff entrance, Ylva was met with a long white hall and that ever-present haunting something about hospitals all across the world. It was not quite a not quite a sensation, not quite a feeling, and not quite a smell - even though she could certainly pick out the distant odors of blood and disinfectant even this far out. In her ears, Waterloo stopped and the playlist shuffled, and-

Take a Chance on Me. Well. Ylva did not make a habit of believing in heavenly supersitions - but.

Rather on the nose of you, cosmos, she thought, not quite thinking about it as she plucked the buds from her ears and deposited them in the right pocket of her coat. From that same pocket, she produced her phone, furrowing her brow down at it as she unlocked it and stopped her Spotify playlist before it had the chance to run down the battery over the course of her shift.

There were also messages, and Ylva - who knew she was, as so often happened to her, eye-wateringly early - could not quite resist the urge to thumb through them, despite the looming weight of newness on her shoulders. Well-wishes, memes, and musings about plans for later, if of course everybody's shifts survived contact with the enemy.

It was fortification, she decided. A preemptive morale boost, just in case she needed it. One never had the luxury of knowing, in this profession.

As she moved down the hallway, spotless white shoes on spotless white floors, Ylva shrugged out of her coat and slung it over her left shoulder along with her bag. It was a frigid day outside, and not so much better between the walls of the hospital, but she dressed simply beneath her coat today, simply her standard black scrubs and a dark t-shirt - one whose starry pattern was not visible over the neck of her scrub top - because she knew she'd had the wherewithal to preemptively stock her new locker on Friday with essentials, including the hoodies and cardigans she intended to wear over her scrubs.

[sadsoftserve]

Oh no, they've been Anime Campaign'd, whatever will I do??

I also did some for my friends @soupghetti @oddball-artz and @imlivinginyourtrashcan

These were fun to do 🩷

[pink-anonymous-person]

Y/N in wonderland! i think Peter would be Cheshire Cat <- don’t have the energy to draw that haha :0

uh ohhh peter your boyfriend just won’t give up !!!

[marvels-bitch-boy]

Scarlet Spiders

Chapter 4: Something Amiss

Word Count: 3.9K

Masterlist , Chapter 5: Reflections

Being alone isn’t something foreign to Degan. It had been only around two weeks since landing here and attempting to find a place in this new world. He had gotten curious one night on patrol. Sitting on a ledge of a corporate office he overlooked a gallery of windows and lights, he saw the different lives on display in front of him like a tv show. Each one showed something that he felt he was missing. A window on the twenty-third floor had a small family of four having a late movie night, the kids began to dance around as the credits played and the parents cheered them on with bright smiles, he thought of what he missed -a family. The window on the seventeenth floor had a couple holding each other and gazing out towards the city, he thought of who he missed -her. His MJ. 

These thoughts led to him opening his phone and googling something that made his brain feel like it was going to explode. He didn’t know what he expected to find in this search but what he did find made him decide to end the night there. He snuck into an empty loft near the school and did something else he thought might clear his head. The cold concrete beneath his skull and the white ceiling staring back at him as he lay there began to occupy his mind. They seemed to distract him long enough to come back to the root of his twisting stomach with a clear mind. He reached back for his phone and the bright screen blinded him like freshly powered snow in direct sunlight. It took him a moment before he reopened the search engine he had used prior and double-checked the results. 

Claire King and Samsen King. Alive. Married. 

Those names had been seared into his brain the moment his mother surrendered him. The day his dad died he knew he couldn’t forget it, the man didn’t have any other family except his son. Degan was all he had and he wasn’t going to let him be forgotten. Her name, however, he wanted to remember the name of the woman who didn’t want him. The one who threw him to the wolves of the world without a second thought. They were together without him. Without Degan, they were happy, and alive. His brain began to jump from each thought like a cat leaping from object to object. They were better off without him. The team seemed better without him. She seemed to be doing just fine without him. 

- - -

No. I am not that unstable. Don’t even jump there. 

- - -

He found himself standing in the back of the gym during class. The rest of his peers were doing laps. Degan was currently snapping back to reality, his legs seemed to be on autopilot the entire first half of the day. As he stood there the entire reason for his mind feeling like a cloud of fog came rushing through. He felt the tears begin to well in his eyes like a glass of water filled to the brim, threatening to spill. He whips his head as fast as he can to locate the nearest door. He closes his eyes hard to keep his tears in, holding a stoic face he crossed the room to the first door he spotted. He walked at a pace that was fast as his legs could move, he didn’t care if he caught attention all he wanted was to leave. To be alone. The way he’s always been.

On the other side of the room two people on opposite sides of the social pyramid had their eyes on him all day. Studying him as he moved through the hallway, the lack of eye contact he made all day, the way he sat -numb- during classes barely moving and barely living. He seemed to operate like a robot. Only one however felt the need to go after him. She felt it deep down somewhere in her gut she felt it tugging towards him. Facing the outside, she felt the cold new york air hit her. Looking around she saw him rounding a corner of the gym. She followed him and stopped when she saw him pressed against the wall with his knees to his chest. His breathing was rapid and he couldn’t seem to stop it. She saw the tears falling and hitting the pavement between his feet. She felt the need again, to go to him, do something to try and fix whatever he was feeling. 

Sitting down next to him she found herself silent. He lifted his head and only looked forward. She stayed silent. Letting him choose when to talk. Chose when to open up. 

Finally, he spoke. “Why’d you follow me?” his tone was curious and guarded. As if her answer would pierce his heart. She thought for a moment before she spoke “I don’t know… wanted to see what you were gonna do -or if you needed directions”. Right. This was only his second week here, everyone assumed he still didn’t know the lay of the land. Deciding to play into this he responded as he would have before he had met her. “I don’t need directions. I don’t need anyon-thing,” he finally looked at her and he was flooded with memories. “-I just… I found out something and I reacted unusually. I’m fine now” he stood up and decided to avert his gaze from her. Just looking at her was difficult. “Well, when you wanna stop being a dick-” she also stood up “I’m Michelle” she turned around and began to walk away. He was now reminded of why exactly he was drawn to her in the beginning. Kicking himself in the ass he shouted out to her “Degan!…-I’m Degan,” she stopped and turned around to face him. “Thank you, I don’t want to be a dick -especially to you, I’m sorry” She looked him in the eyes and could see that he was genuine. The tip of her mouth lifted slightly and she stopped herself even more. “Don’t be, I’d say the same thing” and with that, she left. 

- - -

Okay… so, did I have alittle crying session? Yes. It’s a very healthy thing! You’d do it too! I mean I found myself in a situation that honestly I hope no one else ever has. And my not-girlfriend who doesn’t know she was my girlfriend decided to come to find me. Fuck. I didn’t want to get close to her. I wanted to stay far away and just keep her safe. Just until I could go home. Until I could be with her again. 

OH MY GOD! I sound so boring and serious! You know what! Let's get back on track to the fun stuff huh!... I don’t wanna bore you, you didn’t listen to my story for the emotional wreck I am. You listen for the cool badass stuff I do. 

Right? 

- - -

A few days later Degan was swinging through the sky, he wanted to clear his mind because all he could think about was MJ. Why she followed him, why she took an interest in him? He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Stopping off at a small patio he sat and took a moment. Which is all it ended up being as he soon heard the sound of metal clanging and shifting followed by a few screams. Rushing into action Degan slung himself towards the noise and his spider sense rang like a fire alarm through his whole body. He ducked out of the way and found a pair of chrome stilt legs shooting at him. “No. Fucking. Way.” he laughed as he saw the full ensemble that stood in front of him. A man who looked like Sandy from Spongebob with legs as long as lamp posts stood before him in solid chrome. It was hilarious. His leg lifted up and shot towards Degan who jumped back “please tell me your name is-” an arm swung at him and Degan retaliated by shooting webs across his chest and propelling himself forward like a human bullet. “AT-” he grunts as he pushes off his chest and attaches to the brick of a building. “AT… You literally look so dumb, dude” he couldn’t stop laughing at the sight he was facing.

“What is wrong with you? You insect!” the heightened man yelled out as he turned around and with that Degan plummeted towards the street and used his momentum to web one of the long legs in front of him. Pulling an idea from a classic he began to wrap his webbing around the man's legs and once he regained his original momentum he ran up the front of the man before reaching his glass helmet and pushing off with all his force. This sent the man back towards the pavement with a scream while Degan let out a laugh. 

Webbing the man's arms in place he sat on his chest during the 5 mins it took for officers to arrive, he decided to strike up a conversation. “Soo… you lose fights often?” 

“Not to an idiot like you!” his helmet began to fog up as he yelled at the boy sitting on his chest. “You got lucky this time, next time I’ll beat you… just you wait! Stilt-Man isn’t finished!” he felt a blow to his ego as Degan doubled over laughing at his sentence. Attempting to speak through his laughter “No-... dude- HA- there is no way-... OH MY GODahhhh- YOU’RE NAME IS STILT-MAN!?!?-” this proved to be difficult “I mean.. Seriously? -you know what… thank you man, I needed this…” getting up he made his way to glass helmet, lifting his mask to reveal his mouth he fogged up the outside and with his finger drew a smiley face. He gave “Stilt-Man” one last smile before he walked off towards his favourite view of central park. 

He had some cash on him and decided to hit up a vendor close by, the umbrella that stood over it grabbed his attention. As soon as he got to the man he spoke in his best voice. “I’ll take one sir” The look on the vendor's face made Degan give a genuine smile under his mask. This city wasn’t that much different than his own. As he was handed the dog his other hand produced the bills to pay for it but the man refused. “Spidey… I can’t, not for you” Degan Shook his head and asked the man a question “what’s your usual spot?” the man responded and Degan made a mental note. He offered the man a handshake and then webbed the bills under the umbrella and scaled the building he was looking for. 

Sitting there he found himself thinking about his New York. His city. The nights he spent on patrol with MJ in his ear telling him about her day as dodged punches and webbed Maggia to walls. Hartley and him challenging the other to competitions solely for the chance to win a free hotdog from the other. Those were the moments he missed the most. Now he was alone again. He found grappling with this concept to be much more difficult than he imagined it would be. Jumping back into who he was before he had a family before he had love, it was something that made his throat fill with bile. 

Stop. 

This was who he was before them, he just has to remember how it was, the freedom he had. He could do anything in the city and no one would care, he didn’t go home for three days and no one even noticed. One time he didn’t speak in school for a full week and the only person who noticed was the kid who would cheat off him in physics. No one cared. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of faint footsteps, the tingling in the back of his brain was faint. He stayed still and waited for the steps to get closer.  They didn’t. He figured whoever this was planned only on watching him. So he decided to speak. “The view is better from where I’m sitting” he turned his head and saw the figure. It was the cat. “Or, are you afraid of falling from the ledge? -you’ll just land on your feet though” he cracked a smile at his own joke and then turned his eyes back to the greenery in front of him. Her steps started up again and he found that he had company now. 

She didn’t pay the view any mind instead she kept her eyes on him and spoke inquisitively “What's with the suit? You didn’t have it on last night?” Degan sat up straighter and didn’t answer. “Now the silent treatment…” she leaned closer to his ear “very unlike you spider” he huffed as he lowered his mask over his mouth and looked at her. He was about to speak, about to tell her how little she knows about him, about how he isn’t even the hero she thinks he is. Instead, he just took her in. He took in her appearance, the type of material her suit was made of, the style of it, the intricate detailing added for just her -she didn’t account for someone who also has an eye for detail. He liked it. He took in the platinum hair that sat on her head, from a distance you might think it was dyed but this close he was able to see the line of the wig. She was calculated, hiding her identity through something as simple as her hair.  “I’m not your spider…” 

“Please, we both know you have a soft spot for me” She remained as close to him, she may have even gotten closer by what felt like a subatomic particle. He remained frozen as he processed what she said. His words definitely meant something different to her. “Both of us know this? Cuz I feel alittle left out of the loop” She tilted her head at him, examaning everything abiut him. It was almost like she was looking past his mask. Her hand went to his arm and she felt the material of hs suit. The pattern almost blended into the rest of his suit. She looked at his hands. Her ‘Spider’ would figit with his hands, his fingers would move as though they were tracing an invisible pattern. These hands that she was looking at were still, they rested against the concrete edge with ease. “Do you need a refresher? I’d be happy to help” she grabbed the edge of his blue hoodie. “I’d love to swipe this sometime…” his hand finally moved and grabbed her wrist. “I-uh I…” Degan felt a new emotion stir inside of him, he was hesitant to tell her. Tell her he wasn’t Spider-Man. She spoke for him as his mind froze “Don’t worry-” she leaned in close “I’ll wait till it’s on my floor” Now he was frozen for a completely different reason. He let go of her wrist and stood up faster than he ever has before. “Look, you- you really don’t know me! Like-seriously don’t know me…” he took a few steps back “I’m not who you think I am- really really not who you think I am.” 

She stood up and from afar she began to notice the differences that she was blind to before. His build was different, he was taller… the way he stood was with more confidence. The way he was even looking at her was different. “Holy shit” she breathed the words out as she thought it over. A smirk creeped up on her face, a glint appeared in her eyes as she looked at him like a kid who just got a new toy “There’s two of you…” she took a step closer to him now “Who are you?”  Degan gave her a look that anyone in a mask that is asked that question would give. Seriously? She rolled her eyes at the tilt of his head “Ugh- you know what I mean” 

He was taken aback by her reaction. Actually her lack of a reaction “uh um -Scarlet- The Scarlet Spider” there was a smile under his mask. He felt relieved. He also took a step forward. “I do have a question for you though…” they stayed at this distance now. Only a few feet from each other. “Who are you? -The cops only called you Cat…” he shrugged at her “I’d like to get more”  She kept her smile as she answered him. “Black Cat…The Black Cat” she said it with a tone of mockery, not the malicious type… the friendly kind of mockery. Degan felt a wave of confidence and walked back to the edge. He took his seat and faced the sunset, he gestured the spot next to him and waited. “Maybe we can talk?”  He wanted to connect with someone as who he really was, with someone who might understand the double life… but that's the thing, now he’s living three different lives, the Degan he once was, the version he has to play for everyone now, and the scarlet spider. 

- - -

Okay, I know this was alittle sappy… but it was nice. Honestly, we sat there and talked for an hour. I didn’t really care that she was a thief -now I know that sounds kinda bad. But there was something about her. I learned why she steals. She learned why I wear my mask. The thing was though, I still felt so lonely. I just felt a darkness. 

Shit man. I have to stop this, gotta get back on track… I’ll tell you about what I’m doing in the loft instead.  

- - -

Now, it’s only been three weeks of living in this abandoned loft but rigging it to get power was simple, and all he had to do was sneak into the basement to turn on the water. So he’d consider that he was living pretty large now. He had a collection of blankets he’d gotten from goodwill bins and F.E.A.S.T. laying in a corner on the floor as a bed. There was a single chair he used with two milk crates stacked on top of each other acting like a table. He landed on the roof of the building and went behind a series of vents where he housed his bag of clothes. Changing and then finally being able to enter the building he made his way to the loft with his backpack. As he entered the dark entryway he felt a sense of loneliness creep its way up on him. The room was quiet, the sound of the city acted as background noise while he walked to the kitchen. Opening the fridge he found what he had left from his last grocery run and went to the small pantry he made. He had “borrowed” some pots and pans from the school cooking class and began to make a small serving of pasta. Slicing up the leftover Italian sausage he added it to the small saucepan that was on low heat with a dab of oil. He waited for them to brown and flipped them, the smell of the spices and meat brought back a memory of him and MJ at his small apartment the day he moved in. 

She had run down to the small convenience store at the bottom of his building and picked out the simplest meal that still felt fancy. Degan was upstairs building his bed before he got distracted and decided to set up his tv. His couch from the tower wouldn’t be moved for another day so he placed his pillows on the floor against the wall and sat. Tony kicked him out because they had been having many fights over how the team should operate in the field, Degan didn’t like the direction the old Avengers were headed. So he left. Bruce helped him find an apartment and paid it off for him. After all, Degan still helped out with research for free and hiring someone else would cost way more than what he was paying in rent for the boy. MJ came in and saw him sitting in silence. She knew about what had happened with the team and she knew how hard the last year had been. So she sat too. She held his hand and he closed his eyes as he tried not to cry. He sniffed up any tears he had and stood with a smile as he reached out his hand. They cooked the meal together in what must have been the smallest kitchen in the city and ate together on the floor while the Tv ran an old sitcom. They were too busy smiling and laughing at each other as they ate to care about the rest of the world. 

However, now he found himself sitting in the folding chair alone. The light had broken a few days ago so he still sat in the dark, the lights of a billboard nearby illuminated him slightly. He felt the small tears prickle at his eyes and wiped them away vigorously. He had to stop letting himself do this, dwell on a past that doesn’t exist now. It didn’t feel right. 

- - -

Standing on the edge of the old Stark Tower. That's where he found himself this time. A pigeon sat on an antenna nearby. He was so high up, he felt a breeze hit him and just like the pigeon he didn’t move from his spot. Ripping off his mask he let the air hit his face, being away from all the people and places that reminded him of where he truly was, he finally let a tear fall. It drifted slowly down his face and the trail of it felt ice cold as the wind blew on. “I hate this place” he spoke in a broken voice that he hadn’t used since his mom left him. “Why did this happen to me? Why am I being forced to live in a world where everyone seems to be happier… but- but I don’t even exist?” no response. It wasn’t like he expected one. That’s the whole reason why he decided this was the best place to be. No one could hear him, no one could pity him, or try to understand what he was going through. Because here at least he was alone through his own control, whatever part of the universe that did this to him robbed him of that choice. 

“I honestly feel like there is no way I can win right now, I lead a life that could again be taken away within a second, could cause the whole multiverse to collapse in on itself, fall through another sinkhole and end up dead… I could go back to my universe and end up forgotten. This is one cosmic joke that seems to just get better.” His tears now flowed like water from his eyes. “I just want this all to end…” he spoke softly now and the words came from the deepest part of his heart “I finally felt like I belonged in that world -I felt- I felt loved for once…" he took a breath as he gathered his words “I just want it back…” He moved back from the edge of his seat and curled his legs into his chest. He began to sob as the sun lowered itself from the skyline. 

[octobers-snow]

Elvis Masterlist

The King and I (Elvis x KaceyMusgravesInspired!OC)

🌹🌻🌸 💐🌼🌷🌹🌻🌸 💐🌼🌷🌹🌻🌸 💐🌼🌷🌹🌻🌸 💐🌼🌷🌹🌻🌸 💐🌼🌷

Summery: Magnolia aka Maggie Martinez, a retired army nurse, aspiring singer, and the wife of the legendary Elvis Presley. This is the story of their life together, beginning from when they first met.

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Begins in the late 1960s into the 1970s. A fix-it fic for those who wished they could of saved Elvis.

🌹🌻🌸 💐🌼🌷🌹🌻🌸 💐🌼🌷🌹🌻🌸 💐🌼🌷🌹🌻🌸 💐🌼🌷🌹🌻🌸 💐🌼🌷

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

[trangtravishere]

We're gotta go bald, son

[bog-teeth]

the blood + bone kids.

ARTFIGHT! 1/3

[witch-of-fanart]

MERRY CHRIS- *sees calendar (1/6/25)* Merry LATE Christmas to all and a Happy New Year!

During my Christmas break I doodled the Cards of Chaos with their mom setting up their tree, and I did not get a chance to finish it until today so yay!

[arospecbandgeek]

blood, sweat, tears, and a ridiculous amount of keyframes just for a shitpost

@sadsoftserve @oddball-artz

[god-mouths]

inktober tommorrow? dont worry about it! fully colored and shaded throwaway meme (PRONOUNS LIGHTNING ROUND LEFT TO RIGHT TOP ROW she/her| he/him |she/her| she/they/he/xe BOTTOM ROW she/her | she/her | he/him

[birdofcauthon14]

All That Remains: A Preview

So I'm about to clinically cease to exist, but after being validated in my long-term plot decisions by the finale and also rendered unto a state of permanent hype high by said finale, I furnish unto all of you, fellow Pitt fans, a preview of my upcoming dive into OC cringe fanfic hell: All That Remains.

And by special request: @lavenderdaisychain

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. November 11, 2025. Day One. 6:45 A.M.

As the closing notes of Moskau by Dschinghis Khan gave way to Waterloo, the first famous song of the band whose music had kept her sane for the better part of her entire life, Ylva Elise Thorn jogged down the three steps of a small concrete staircase and turned onto the next sidewalk on her way to a new beginning.

Pittsburgh, it had to be said, was not - as the saying went - on Ylva's initial bingo card when she had been considering the move. At the time, all she knew was that Boston had ceased being an option and that, because if it, the cabin outside of Nashua also had to go unless she could find something in New Hampshire instead. That had almost become the goal - until the job opening which had brought her here.

A bit of wiggling. A touch of maneuvering. A new cabin, this one across the river from Aliquippa, Pennsylvania. And now…

Newness. The wondrous terror of newness, that eternal fuel for those seeking another chance and that eternal bane of autistic people.

Newness, and Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital. Ylva was given to understand that its emergency department was known as the Pitt to those who worked within its walls. It was part of a strategic collection of things she had been told on her preliminary visit to the hospital on Friday, where the administrator of PTMH - a fussy woman named Gloria, who Ylva suspected of covertly running for political office - had provided her the layout of the hospital, the emergency department, and the staff with whom she would be working.

Broadly, at least. One never knew others until one was amongst them. Ylva knew that of old, from her old life at St. Francis Memorial Hospital and lives even before that, but understanding it had been a more recent endeavor powered by loneliness and the patient determination of the woman who was now her best friend.

Well. That and the efforts of - others.

Some with her.

Some not.

[sadsoftserve]

I updated their fuck ass sprites

ALSO PARKER IS STILL TALL AS HELL LOOK AT HER COMPARED TO PERCY

BAHSJEJJR

A great take from my friend lmaooooo

[pink-anonymous-person]

Your Boyfriend is my fave otome game!

[megslittlespiders]

Sometimes, I like to fuck around and draw my characters in random ass scenarios

I just wanted to get silly with lighting 🤷🏽

It's not perfect, but I'm learning. And that's what's important

[wildbanana]

Erm, finally drew Gin Parker in drag ☝🏻🤭

[maddieautobot273]

Silk & Cologne (37)

A Miguel O'Hara x OC Series - Link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 37 - Compromised - previous chapter (X)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Female OC

Words: 3.8K+ words

Warnings: PG-13 for violence and fight sequences, implied torture, forced injection

Summary: Lisa ventures further into the manor in search of Harry.

//////

The hallway was quiet and cold compared to the warm and lively contrast of the ballroom on the other side of the doorway. When I didn’t see anyone else in the hall, I was tempted to go back out merely due to the ominous silence sending a wicked chill down my spine. But I willed myself to carefully and quietly shut the door behind me and ventured further down the hall. 

I recalled Miguel’s training, and Spider-Noir’s advice when he popped in for a quick visit yesterday when Miguel asked him to provide some insight. Hug the wall, always check your corners. Don’t move unless you know for sure you can proceed to your target. So that’s what I did. 

I followed his advice, hugging the wall and peering around the corner once I reached the end of the hall. The cost was clear. No guards in sight, much less security cameras. Odd. 

Don’t overthink it. It’s not getting easier. Don’t get overconfident. 

I reached into my pants pocket, pulling out a spare smoke grenade. I crouched down, pressing the trigger button before gently rolling the grenade across the floor. A soft hiss echoed from the grenade as the familiar pink, glittering smoke covered the hall. When it dispersed, I quickly realized why there weren’t any guards. 

Lasers. 

Not a bad trick, King Pin. I was almost impressed. He had that much confidence that no one would be stupid enough to follow him out here?

Correction; That stupid someone was me. 

After making sure my smoke grenade didn’t alert anyone to come snooping around, I stepped out of my hiding spot at the corner of the hall. I studied the layout of the lasers, mapping out a route in my head. I jumped, sticking my hands and feet to the ceiling and started to crawl. 

I maneuvered my way down the hall, occasionally parkouring to other sides of the walls and floor to avoid getting my uniform singed from the intense heat of the lasers. When I made it to the clearing, I jumped down to my feet, finding a switch as I flicked it with my finger and the laser grid slowly vanished. 

Phew! 

“I’ll take five, be right back,” A voice spoke up as a door opened. 

Shit! 

I pressed my back against the wall, glancing over to see a grunt walking towards me from the corner. Not King Pin or Harry, thank goodness for that. But I couldn’t exactly get compromised either. 

I looked over to the door beside me, noticing that it appeared to be a broom closet. I peeked inside, making sure it was big enough for me to slip inside, and to potentially rope someone else in with me. I closed the door, but made sure to leave a small crack of an opening, allowing me to peek outside. 

I listened for the grunt’s footsteps as he proceeded down the hall, passing by the door of the broom closest. He paused, pulling out his phone to shoot a text message before he glanced over to the wall, noticing the switch. The laser security switch. 

“What the–?” He turned to look at the switch, noticing it was switched off. “Who shut it off–!”

I didn’t even give him time to finish his sentence as I pushed the door open, caught him with a web sling and yanked him inside the closest as the door swung shut after him. The small room was nearly pitch black as I gripped my arms around him, fighting to contain him as he tried to struggle out of my grasp. 

“Hey, who the hell–!” He snarled. 

I flexed my fingers, blobs of web fluid staining his body before I opened my mouth and quietly sang a soft melody. 

“Ah, ah, aaaaah, ah ahhh, aaaahhhhhh~” 

The webs glowed their golden hue and soon the grunts' struggles diminished as the pupils matched the webs glow. He passed out in my arms, falling asleep. I sighed in relief as the thundering flutter of my heart calmed down, the adrenaline of the moment subsiding. 

“That was way too close. . .” I muttered softly as I carefully set the grunt down on the floor. “No hard feelings tough guy,” 

I found a large paper towel roll, quickly adjusting the grunt’s head to place the roll under him so he could use it as a pillow. Once he was settled, I discreetly stepped out of the broom closet and shut the door behind me. I looked around the hall, and it appeared no one had heard the grunt’s sudden cry. 

“I should cover my tracks,” I mumbled softly as I flicked the switch and the laser security grid turned back on. 

If I needed somewhere to run and come back the way I came, I now knew where the switch was so I could quickly shut it off and make a speedy get-a-way. Maybe I could hang back and shoot some web fluid at it to turn it back on if there are some henchmen chasing me down later? Hypothetically speaking of course. 

I proceed further into the hall, sneaking by the doorway the grunt had previously come out of to now draw attention to myself. When I made it to the end of the hall, I passed through the door and arrived in a grand foyer. It had the same architecture of the ballroom, more warmth in it than that asylum looking secret hallway I was just in. 

Now, which way did they go? Up the stairs or through the grand oak wood doors on the other end of the room?

“Hey, you!” 

I froze instantly. Shit! 

I turned around to see three henchmen approach me. I was so focused on figuring out which direction King Pin may have taken Harry, I didn’t notice these guys guarding the room. If I make it out of this Miguel was going to kill me for letting my guard down. I had to think of something quick. 

“What are you doing out here?” One of the guards questioned me. “All service workers for the gala are to remain at the event,” 

“Oh, uh, my boss said that Mr. King Pin had requested drinks for him and some of his guests and, uh–” I tried to stay calm as my brain fumbled for an excuse, fiddling with my fingers behind my back. “Sent me to check what they wanted,”

“I haven’t heard anything like that from the boss,” The leader of the trio shook his head as he glanced at his partners. “Have ya’ll heard anything?”

They both shrugged, looking at each other in confusion. 

Their leader gave me a hard stare as he pulled out a walkie talkie. My heart sank into my stomach, thankful that it wasn’t a weapon he brought out. “Mind if I call to confirm?”

A faint drop of sweat streaked down my forehead as I managed a polite smile. “Not at all,”

He nodded before he glanced over at his partners, motioning his head towards me. “Keep an eye on her, aight?”

The pair nodded as they stepped forward, circling me like hawks as they covered my flanks on either side of me. Their leader turned his back to me, the static of the walkie talkie going off as he pressed a button to activate it. 

“Yo, Marco, can you check with Antonio if the boss requested drinks for his meeting? I got one of the servers here saying she was sent to take an order for the boss,” 

I couldn’t pick up the full sentence that came out of the radio and it’s horrendous frequency, but I at least picked up the phrase, One second. That bought me some time, although I had no idea how long. 

The four of us stood around in awkward silence. Although from their perspective, I was certainly the awkward one. I kept telling myself I was just playing an act. The role of an innocent bystander just trying to do their job and not wanting to cause any trouble. I repeated that story over and over again in my mind to try and calm my nerves as I could feel my palms start to sweat. 

The walkie talkie went off again, the static sparking through the speaker as a response came out. 

“Say again?” The leader of the henchmen asked for clarification. 

The static went off and I could feel the gaze on me coming from the two flanking henchmen hardening. More sweat dripped down my forehead. The jig was up. 

“We didn’t hear anything about the boss wanting– AH!” As the leader of the henchmen was turning to further prove his claim, I flexed my hand out, shooting a ball of web fluid into his face. 

He recoiled, screaming as he fell to the floor. He frantically clawed at the web fluid, pulling the sticky substance off his face as his buddies squared up. My shoulders tensed as I shifted my gaze between the pair, waiting to see who would react first. 

The one on my right moved in first, charging me. I swerved out of the way of the charge, my body spinning as I bashed my knee into his back. He bulldozed into his friend who took the brunt of the hit and they both collapsed to the floor, their skid marks staining the expensive red carpet 

A snarl caught my ear as I turned, facing their leader who was at least free of the mess I threw at his face. He reached for his back again, whipping out a black baton. I could feel my knees start to buckle, but I didn’t budge. 

Remember what Miguel taught you. It’s the brutes you’ve got to watch out for. 

I quickly evaluate my options, glancing around us. I see an opening as he charges. I shoot two web slings upward and once they stick to my target, I pull on them hard with as much strength as I can muster. My arm and bicep muscles twitch and burn as I yank down the chandelier from the ceiling and it lands on top of the henchmen with a loud ‘CRASH’ as I leap out of the way of the debris. 

When the smoke cleared from the impact and the glittering jewels on the lights stop shaking, the brute is alive and well, merely shaken up as he realizes that he’s trapped within the inside of the chandelier and is too big to squeeze past the iron bars. His walkie talkie is smashed as well. 

“Sorry, like I said, got a job to do!” I chuckled softly, offering the brute a showful bow before taking off up the grand stairway to the second floor. 

I had no idea if I was even going the right way, but I needed to put some distance between myself and that mess downstairs. But if others go looking for their friends, they’d tell them what I’d look like. Thankfully I’m packing more than one costume. 

As I pushed open a doorway and continued running down the hall, I felt a sharp buzz in my head. My spider-sense. Something was wrong. 

I could see it coming as someone whipped their arm out, attempting to neck slam me. But I fell to my knees, sliding across the floor and under the arm before my body sprang up and whipped around to meet my advisory. 

A tall man chuckled darkly as he stepped in front of me. He wore a dark navy blue suit with a black button up dress shirt, had pale white skin on his hands but as far as his face goes, I could make out his brown eyes. The rest of his face was covered with a white metal mask. 

“We meet again, Miss Lisa,” the man greeted me with a thick Russian accent.

“Do I know you?” I raised a brow at the man as I kept a good distance away from him. 

The man shook his head and I could see the playful glimmer in his eyes through the mask as he fixed his cufflinks. “Surely you remember me? It’s me,” He spoke almost gently before his lips twitched and curled into a devilish smile, and his voice changed. “Mi vida,” - my dear 

My jaw dropped to the floor. My heart dropped to my stomach as I felt like I was going to collapse right there and then. It was him. Not my Miguel. 

“You!” I snarled, my teeth grinding as I squared my fingers into tight fists. “You’re the imposter that attacked me!” 

He applauded me, the playful glimmer in his eyes never fading. “Very good, Lisa,” his voice shifted back into a Russian accent. “I take it by now you know who I am? Who I truly am?”

“You’re the Chameleon,” I glared at him, piercing daggers into his very soul. 

 “Please, after what we both went through together, I believe we’re on a first name basis now,” I could hear his grin from under the mask as he offered me a bow, “Call me Dmitri,” 

“Like hell I will,” I growled. I fired a burst of web fluid, sticking his body to the nearby wall. “Stay away from me,”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Chameleon clicked his tongue in a disapproving manner. “Don’t be so hasty now, I was just on my way to fetch you,”

I watched as Chameleon’s fingers glazed through my webs like they were nothing. Tearing them apart like they were paper and his fingers were as sharp as scissors. My eyes widened at the sight, taking a step back. 

“I didn’t just duplicate Miguel’s voice, you know,” He purred, daring a step closer towards me. 

I took another step back. Followed by a hard hit to the back of the head. I collapsed to the floor, my body screaming at me to stand as I zoned in and out of consciousness, black and white spots covering my vision. I struggled to push myself up right as I glanced over, seeing Chameleon take a few steps towards me, kneeling beside me. 

He cupped my chin with his fingers, studying me with a sultry grin before glancing up at whoever knocked me down. “Take her to the boss,”  

////////

Miguel’s P.O.V. 

The gala was bustling with lively people as chatter and live music filled the space. Miguel adjusted his tie with one hand while with the other he held a sleek glass of champagne. He glanced over, his eyes scanning the crowd. He spotted Jessica wearing a beautiful glistening red dress that hugged her baby bump just right, with a fur coat overtop her shoulders. 

Their eyes met briefly. They had to pretend they didn’t know each other for the sake of their cover. Miguel was reaching for his ear to effortlessly adjust his earpiece communicator when he heard Jessica’s voice. 

“Hanging in there?” 

Not through the earpiece, but through his mind. 

Miguel’s hidden power as he called it. He wasn’t aware he possessed such an ability until started recruiting more Spiders into the Society. The ones he became relatively close with, or tolerated as he called it, somehow developed a psychic bond that allowed them to communicate telepathically if they were close enough. 

So far he had developed this connection with Jessica, Peter B., and there was a brief flicker of a connection with Gwen when they were fighting the Vulture anomaly in her dimension just over a month ago. No one else has managed to connect to his bond, not even cute little Mayday Parker, much to his chagrin, although he’d never admit it to him.

How that mixed in with the DNA splicing, he had no idea, and didn’t have the time to properly look into it. This ability had saved his skin many times, so he figured if he could use it to his advantage, he wouldn’t budge on it. There were more important things at stake.

“Trying to,” He sighed deeply, taking a sip of the champagne to try and keep himself calm and distracted. 

“She would have said she needed back up. You know this,” Jessica spoke through the bond with a calming tone while physically she was laughing at another guest's horrible joke as she mingled with a small group, meanwhile Miguel had to politely turn down multiple flirty advances on him. She was always the more social one between the pair. “Trust her to find Harry,” 

Miguel’s fingers tightened their grip on the champagne glass ever so slightly. “I do trust her. I’m just. . . anxious. It’s been a while since her last message,”

“I believe the phrase the youngsters use nowadays is ‘hot minute’, though it’s actually been about 10 minutes or so, give or take,” Peter B.’s voice suddenly filled the space of Miguel’s mind, and the Spider-Society leader willed himself not to snarl in annoyance. 

“Peter. . .” 

Of course he would hear us and chime in. Well. . . it would be more discreet than the communicators.  

“Cat’s not out of the bag yet. King Pin’s goons haven’t stormed the joint. Until we hear back from her, all we can do is wait. Maybe we’ll find something else of use while we’re here,” Peter B. reasoned before it sounded like he was stuffing his face at the buffet table. Again. “Use that big brain of yours, Miguel!” 

Miguel rolled his eyes before venturing elsewhere in the crowd, glancing over towards the stage as the audience applauded the band as they wrapped up their current song and adjusted for a new set. 

If she needed me, she’d call. 

She’d call.

////////

Lisa’s P.O.V. 

"Boss, we caught this one lurking around,"

I could feel myself coming to again. My vision cleared and I found myself in a secluded room, on my knees with rope tightly knotted, keeping my wrists tied together and pressed to my lower back. My disguise was gone and I was stuck wearing my spider-suit. Two henchmen were at either side of me, and out of the corner of my eye I could make out Chameleon leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at me. 

But my focus wasn’t on him. It was on the two most powerful men in the room. 

King Pin was a large man with an intimidating stare. He gripped his cane tightly as he lounged on his luxurious sofa chair. Beside him, Harry Osborne stood up from his seat, hands stuffed into his suit pockets as he stared at me down. 

Now that I got an actual good look at him, Harry looked to be about the same age as Miguel, late twenties, early thirties, maybe a tad older than him by a year or so. I couldn’t deny it, Harry Osborn was quite handsome, like a cross between Chris Hemsworth and Robbie Amell. In a villainous billionaire sort of way.

In between us was a small table with an open briefcase. Inside the briefcase I could just barely catch what looked like to be metal collars? They were a sleek gunmetal gray with green fluorescent glowing lights. 

I could see the look on Harry’s face as he studied me. Recognition. His lips curled into a smile. “Lisa Kendrick, at last we finally meet face to face. Although I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon,”

“Harry,” I uttered his name, growling in greeting. 

"She one of the other Spider's you were talkin about?" King Pin looks over at Harry, a stern yet intriguing look on his face.  

“The very same,” Harry mused with a nod of his head. 

“She made a mess in your foyer, King Pin,” Chameleon shook his head like he was disciplining a child. “Ruined a perfectly good chandelier,” 

“Eh, I’ve seen prettier,” I shrugged my shoulders, trying to nudge the henchmen away from me but they gripped my shoulders tightly with their fingers. “What’s your endgame, Harry? Why are you siding with scum like King Pin?”

“If I told you that, then that would ruin the surprise, now would it?” Harry leaned forward, his wicked grin sending a chill down my spine. 

“If you’re here, then I assume more of your other spider friends are lurking around in my manor as well?” King Pin surmised as he tilted his head, lighting a cigar. 

I didn’t give him an answer. 

"It would appear I have been made," Harry sighs as he pulls something out from his pocket. "As much as I want to bring you in now, the stage is not set quite yet, my dear, at least not my stage,"

It’s not until he starts walking towards me when I notice what he’s holding in his hand. A syringe. The pointy end of it flashed in the low lighting of the room as I tried to shuffle back, but the guards kept me still as the CEO of Oscorp came before me. 

“Get your hands off me!” I growled. 

Miguel warned me. He warned me that something like this would happen and I still insisted on doing this. Have you forgotten already that Harry could still be seeking you out for your powers?

“Now, now, I’m not going to hurt you, Spider-Muse,” Harry chuckled as he knelt beside me, his fingers gripping and brushing the neck sleeve of my spider-suit down to expose my neck.  

Harry injected the syringe into the crock of my neck, forcing a blood sample from me. I felt the prick of the needle and hissed as the tiny metal tip pulled out from my body. I recoiled out of his touch, baring my teeth at him.  

"I'll have need of you later,” Harry spoke as he stood back up to his feet, handing the syringe to Chameleon who put the medical device in a case, locking it. Harry glanced over towards King Pin. “In the meantime, I'll leave her in your capable hands. Feel free to use my gifts as a token of our partnership,"

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Osborne,” King Pin chuckled as he blew a whiff of his cigar, the dark smoke fluttering in the air. 

“What are you talking about?” I sent an accusing glare towards Harry. 

He ignored my question as his gaze briefly went to the contents inside the briefcase before he gave me a wink. He motioned over to Chameleon. “Let’s move along, Dmitri, we’re done here,” 

He’s not going to. . . use that thing on me is he?!

Harry pressed a button on his watch and I watched in awe as his own inter-dimensional portal appeared. This one was blue and purple compared to the orange and red contrast of the portals used by the Spider-Society. 

“See you later, Prekrasnyy,” Chameleon snickered. - Lovely 

“Until we meet again,” Harry waved at me before he and Chameleon stepped through the portal and disappeared from the room, from this dimension. 

The portal closed and within seconds, King Pin snapped his thick fingers, grinning at me. “Prep her,” He commanded. 

The next thing I knew, I got smacked into the back of my head again. Darkness quickly followed. 

////////

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