#Spiders georg could be anywhere we just dont know

[completeoveranalysis]

WHAT DID HE SAY?

WRONG ANSWERS ONLY.

My wild hopes are that he said "Play dead", but also like... if this really is an act? HE REALLY DIDN'T HAVE TO GO THAT HARD.

HE WENT REALLY REALLY HARD.

THERE WERE STABBINGS AND EVERYTHING.

Is it plausible that he just almost killed his whole family to convince Evil Wolverine that he still didn't have a soul, or am I just desperately hoping?

I have no idea!

But until then, thank you everyone for all the wild March 15 energy we've brought to a day that is definitely actually March 16 and/or March 17.

It's close enough.

And thank you extra to all my wonderful Patrons! <3

First Tier of Patrons

Coconi

Rien [Ri]

Sapphireswimming

Luke Wilson

Stupid Kitsune

Jordan Fredriksz

Shynerdycactus

CloudMenaceBird

Corinne Burr

Qatari Pekarsky

Fer E

MokoCharm

limitless_paper

Higher Tier of Patrons:

Until next time uh... let's all be wary of Tumblr memes.

You just never know.

[thenervousmedic]

I had a minecraft dream last night...

This is going to be a long post, but bear eith me, and take the time to read it.

I don't dream about minecraft very often. In fact this might be a first. I'm still in bed while writing this, as im afraid if I wait I'll lose a bunch of the memories.

It involved myself and a few members of the Dream SMP getting sucked into MC. Ironic, I know. Dream, George, Badboyhalo, Tecnoblade, Wilbur Soot, Tommyinnit, and myself. We all looked like our avatars... mostly, and even had some special skills i'll get into later.

To be clear, they were as they are in real life in terms of personality.

I've not watched the dream smp yet... maybe I should start soon. Anyway, side tracked...

The world worked differently than normal MC. It was more realistic, especially the combat and movement. Anything you can do irl you can do here. The drawback was that it made everything harder and more exhausting.

I was dragged in a month before the others, where over the next four weeks, I'd figure out how the lives system works; how difficult movement was; that crafting was nearly the same as normal mc; and how to build.

Five lives. There was a little tracker on the back of your hand, five squares for five lives. Each life you lost, a square would disappear. But it wasnt that simple. Every tine you died you'd feel the affects of the world more. Eating took longer, everything cost more and more realistic amounts of effort, and most importantly... taking damage would actually hurt.

On your first life damage was less of a danger and more of a 'stat' to just be aware of. Getting attacked, shot, exploded next to, ect wasn't too bad. But the more you died the more these things started to get scary. Arrows would tear their way in and ve painful to remove. You'd bleed and have actual wounds that needed care.

By the time the smp members were spawning in, I'd already been reduced to my last life. I was never good at minecraft, though im alright irl with a bow it didnt help much.

You spawn in unconcious. I'd lost my first life that way. I spawned above water. A painless drowning. I hadn't gone back to the ocean since, it scared the fuck out of me.

The first to arrive was Techno. I went back to spawn for the good sheep spawns there. Found him asleep in the grass. He was lucky no creepers had spawned.

Nearly everyone was bigger than me, I'm pretty small, so hauling this guys limp piglin ass all the way to my little safety shack was really hard.

Then Dream and George one after another. Badboy. Tommy... and finally Wilbur.

Wilbur was... a special case. He was a ghost. Just like his ghostbur skin had been. Fully awake, really freaking out. I was near collapsing from taking everyone else to my home, wasnt really much of a comfort, but I at least managed to convince him to come with me after the sun started to dip.

When we got back Wilbur helped me make beds. Couldn't have everyone sleeping propped up against the walls... Wilbur couldn't grab anything, but he could open and close chests. He also found out he could manafest things like his guitar, and a plushie orca. Things that made him a little less anxious. It was nice to hear music again.

I didnt get to talk to him long. We finished the beds, put everyone on one, then I immediatly konked the fuck out over the crafting table.

By the time I woke up, everyone was already awake and talking. The typical suspects. Why are we here, how, what happened, is this even real. You get the picture. I guess usually social anxiety, especially in the presence of people I admire so much, would've been a big stressor but after a month alone in this world I damn near started bawling at the thought of someone else even existing.

I told them all I know. We are stuck here, we have lives, dont fucking lose them it makes the game harder. The physics are just as janky as regular minecraft, mobs are much more articulated, armour actually has weight and at this point I wasnt aware of the little buffs everyone had to a particular skill.

Dream was incredibly good at exploiting the game's wonky system and parkouring, even of he couldnt nessesarily do it irl.

Techno was suddenly extremely knowledgeable about combat and could handle most weapons effectively. He was also a piglin-type guy which made him immune to fire.

George's coding skills translated directly into redstone knowledge, letting him build ridiculous machines with enough respources.

Tommy had incredible luck with loot and generally got good enchants.

And Bad was, thanks to his skin, some form of demonic entity and would be completely ignored by most hostile mobs.

Wilbur, as you know, was a ghost who could phase through anything and summon ghostly items.

We didn't find out everyone's special trait immediatly, of course. It happened over many days of trail and error trying to collect resources, build, and have fun.

Turns out my skill was useless by myself, hence why I never found it before they arrived. Anything I gave to another person was twice as effective. Healing items helped more, food would fill them on smaller portions, armour would get a free temporary enchant depending on what they needed.

I'd never liked playing minecraft alone.

I'm losing some of the dream, I shoukd wtite some bullet points down or this post will be miles long.

Tommy accidently befriended a wolf, he named it Wilbur to mess with Wilbur. We had two Wilburs.

Bad was constantly driven up the wall by peoples language but truly was using it as a coping mechanism early on because he was afraid of being stuck here forever. We made sure to swear occasionally so he'd get the oportunity to yell at us.

Techno lost his first life when a creeper blast threw him directly into Dream's sword.

Dream never got over it.

Wilbur started making more songs and even made a few targetted at the groups adventures.

Wilbur descovered if he goes into the floor he cant tell which was is up, this terrified him, he never went underground again.

George made automatic farms and eventually even non-minecraft typical things like a morning alarm clock, a compass that pointed to the nearest village, and invented new armour that was more lightweight but still protective.

Wilbur the wolf regularly barked at and mauled giant spiders before they got anywhere near the house, much to literally everyone's relief.

Bad learned how to read and write enchanting table symbols.

I taught Dream how to repair his clothes and in return he showed me how to build traps.

Techno learned he could talk hoglin, piglin, and villager.

Bad learned he could stare at endermen and mistakingly assumed everyone could so he told everyone else its ok to do so.

Tommy lost his first life to an enderman.

Wilbur worked with george for a whole week on special gloves that would let him touch stuff.

I took an arrow dangerously close to the lungs after Tomny's first respawn trying to bring him home.

Dream realised he couldn't take off his mask and wished he could see the world normally again, nobody knew what his vision was like.

Bad descovered a joy for cooking.

Bad also tamed a cat and named it Muffin.

Muffin the cat would ride Wilbur the wolf around.

Dream lost his first life to hunger after pushing himself for too long.

Techno took a wrong step in the neather and lost his second life to a seriously long fall.

I never knew what I looked like...

Tommy lost his second life being overrun by zombies without a weapon. We made a rule to never leave the house alone after this many deaths.

Bad descovered pretty late that milk is poisonous to him and thus cakes will kill him. He lost a life to cake. He was devastated.

Tommy built a cute campfire. He and Wilbur would mess around singing at it. Wolf Wilbur thoroughly enjoyed this.

I would stay up most of the night watching everyone sleep because I worried the house could get invaded or surrounded. They found out after Phantoms started spawning and made a rule that at least one of then would stay awake at night to make me feel better.

George built Dream an obstacle course with lots of moving parts and such. He ran it every morning.

I learned how to play guitar from Wilbur at the campfire.

Torches never burnt out after they arrived. No idea why.

That's all I can remember...

It was a hard dream, I was sad and angry sometimes... but the happy moments made it worth it.

I hope I return to that dream someday.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Just wanted to scream with you about spideychelle!!!!!! They own my heart!! Also if you’re still doing prompts I was wondering if you could do situation 31 - Lost in the middle of nowhere with sentence 20- dont tell me what to do?

AHHHHHHH RIGHT?? we stan an adorable couple wow

once again, i do not know how to write a drabble?? I can’t get under 500 words??

sorry this took forever, but here it is!!

Situation: 31 - Lost in the middle of nowhere

Sentence: 20 - Don’t tell me what to do!

. 

.

Perhaps a twenty-hour road trip from Queens to Destin isn’t the best time for a realization like this, but Peter Parker is a horrible driver. 

It’s not that he’s reckless—perhaps the one trait from his Spider-Manning that doesn’t translate into his everyday life—no, far from it. He’s overly cautious, defensive on the open road, his knuckles gripping the steering wheel at ten-and-two as cars speed past him. 

He second guesses himself as he merges onto highways, wanting to make sure nobody’s anywhere near their car whatsoever. 

Driving through Birmingham was an absolute nightmare. 

It’s a wonder how he ever got his license in the first place.

At first, MJ had thought it was just a short term thing, that he’d be over it within a half-hour. But he’s two hours into his five hour shift, the last leg of the journey, and he’s refusing to pass this old lady going fifty in a seventy-five.

He’s still very much on his bullshit.

Okay, maybe she’s cranky, but she has good reason to be.

Lovebirds Ned and Betty have been non-stop fawning over each other since they left at midnight, even while the other drove, but are now sleeping soundly in the backseat. Something Michelle can’t do because the sun is currently leading an attack on her eyes.

They’re currently driving through bumfuck middle of nowhere Alabama, and she’s lost track of how many confederate flags she’s seen. 

They’ve been listening to the same playlist for the past few hours because mobile data just decided not to be a thing anymore—she swears to God, if she has to hear George Michael singing “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go,” one more time—

“In one mile, take exit 114 for AL-106 toward Georgiana/Starlington.”

She’s surprised the GPS hasn’t crapped out yet.

But it’s just three more hours. 

Only three more hours till they get to the AirBnb, get a good night’s rest, and then she’ll be reading on the beach, surrounded by the snow-white sand and clear turquoise water of the emerald coast.

Her internal monologue is ever so rudely cut off by the feeling of Peter’s hand resting on top of her thigh. She looks over at him as his thumb smooths over her exposed skin, her expression softening seeing how he seems to have relaxed finally—enough to have actually taken a hand off the wheel. He offers her a soft, shy smile, one that she easily returns in spite of her sour mood.

He shifts his gaze back to the empty highway as he continues driving…

...right past exit 114.

“Shit!’ Peter’s hand snaps back to where it was, and he’s back to white-knuckling the steering wheel.

“Re-routing…”

MJ can’t help the way her eyes nearly roll right out of her head. “Nice.”

Peter chooses to ignore that comment as his eyes flit between his phone on the dash and the road, patiently waiting for Siri to fix this mess for them.

But she doesn’t.

In fact, MJ may have jinxed them all when she wondered why the GPS hasn’t crapped out.

That evil little ellipses stared back at them, taunting. 

“Seriously?” Peter groans in exasperation. 

The longer they drive, the farther away they’re getting, and MJ seems to be the only one who realizes this. “Just pull over.”

Peter huffs. “No, MJ. It’s okay. I’ll just find somewhere to turn around. It’ll be fine.”

For whatever reason, she doesn’t push it at first, instead electing to fume in her seat, arms folded tightly across her chest. 

But again, Peter’s overly cautious nature rears it’s annoying head again, as he passes not one, not two, but three different country roads that he could have very easily pulled into and pulled a u-ey. 

Every single one.

“Dude!” She scolds.

“I’m trying, MJ!”

“Turn right here. Just turn right here—”

“I can’t!”

“Why the fuck not?”

“We’re going too fast!”

“God!” MJ wonders briefly how much it would hurt to just hurl herself out of a moving car. “Just pull over. Let me drive.”

Peter frowns, huffing indignantly. “No.”

“Pull. Over.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“What are you? Five? Jesus, Parker just pull over—”

“No!”

Somewhat lost in both their bickering and the panic of not knowing where the hell he’s going, he lets the car swerve into the shoulder, if only for a second, right over the rumble strip, the entire car shaking. Ned and Betty bolt upright at the jarring sound and feeling, eyes confused as they blearily stare at the two in the front seat. 

“What just happened?” Ned asks.

“Peter can’t drive—”

“—Shut up! Yes I can!”

Peter and MJ exchange rather immature glares, both about to speak before their cut off by Siri’s mechanical lilt.

“In two miles, take exit 101 toward Owassa.”

The sound of their collective sigh of relief seems to only confuse their friends more. 

A quiet falls over the car as Ned and Betty return to their naps. MJ feels Peter glancing at her periodically, and she knows his face has that wide-puppy-eyed expression under his sunglasses. She hears him mumble a sincere, “Sorry,” under his breath as he once again moves a hand to rest over hers. 

And dammit, she can’t really stay all that annoyed at him, especially when he’s like this. She relents, letting her lips twitch upward into a small smile as she intertwines their hands. Her eyes move to him, and she’s unable to help herself as she admires just how stupid good he looks as he drives. 

...aaaaaand right past exit 101.

GOD DAMMIT.