#h.a.s.s

[nan0-sp1der]

“Hello again, bridge! Good to see you’re back.”

Greetings, Scarlet. It is just as welcoming to see you have stuck around this long. Your continued support and presence is appreciated.

[lyrate-lifeform-approximation]

⚠

With a gesture of her hand, LYLA finds her form just about hovering in Bridge's palm. Though the hologram was unable to be touched physically, the 'idea' that Bridge was attempting to carry her was conveyed decently enough.

"Hello."

Exclaimed the automaton, her face looming in a bit closer to greet the other AI.

A giggle comes to LYLA's lips, her face bright. "Hey Bridge!" She 'sits' in Bridge's palm, her hands reaching out to 'touch' Bridge's cheek, "How are you?"

[nan0-sp1der]

Bridge gently makes her way past Miguel as he goes about detaching Kari from himself and placing them somewhere else, placing her sights on the aforementioned hazard box with all sorts of... Malicious little trinkets in it. Molotovs, glitterbombs, other things that she was honestly mildly impressed with. The lengths people will go to cause an inconvenience of any sort.

She proceeds to--with as much precision as her machinery could muster--remove items one-by-one, trapping them in their own psionic bubbles of some sort and levitating them out of reach. You know, just in case anyone decides to get ant funny ideas and tries to snag one. Until, at the very bottom, she spots a jar. It is, indeed, the jar the man in white was looking for.

This, too, is removed from the Pandora's Box of Varying Inconvenience, whereas she returns the rest to their place within it. The jar makes it's way over to the stranger, the protective force field dissolving as it reaches his hands.

"I believe that should be the item you seek, yes?"

Ooc: Sorryyy it's a little long of a descriptionnn hope you guy have fun doing this!! The party has started!

@spiderman2-99's office is a spacious room that could be incredibly cozy with the right ambiance and decor—but that’s not something The Miguel O’Hara would do. So, of course, others had to intervene.

It was late evening, a handmade banner with "slumber party!!!" was put up, some confetti was here and there. Lyla was hovering at the top, near the banner, she was a little messed with, her communication system just a little lagging, but her program was too advanced to have been properly hacked by these amateurs, so by her grin she was probably going with it of her own volition. The monitors had been hacked to blink with soft, multicolored stars across the ceiling, casting a glow perfect for relaxation— just that there was nothing quite calm happening. It looked overall chaotic, and fun.

@spider-lily929 had been here earlier but left for something. Miguel (the bigger, more fun one, @itsmiguel2099) was here, and @spiderpunkofficial had just walked in, balancing several pizza boxes in a way that defied physics. To the right, @tinidor-theodore and @spider--queer were deep in conversation. Next to them was a pile of pastel-colored pillows with a few plushies on top.

On the massive work table, now cleared of all of Miguel's thingamajigs, a large checkered tablecloth was spread out. It was packed with unlabeled syrups, glasses, mugs, juices, fizzy drinks—even a random gallon of milk. For snacks, there was an enormous bowl of popcorn that was somehow already half-empty, and a platter of chopped fruit that no one seemed interested in. Kari had just set down a bowl of gulab jamun and… spicy chicken nuggets? He looked doubtful, wondering if anyone would actually eat them. Someone had tried to label allergens on the table and gave up; the only labels read, “Apple juice, contains apples,” “Milk, contains gluten lactose,” and “I think this is chocolate syrup.”

Kari lit up when he saw Spiderpunk’s pizza haul. He grabbed a whole box and a drink from the table, stuffing down two slices while scurrying across the room. He accidentally bumped into @green-goblin-59 on the way.

“Oh, sorry! Pizza?” he offered, handing over the box after taking two more slices. He got absorbed in the movie playing on the big screen—something he didn’t recognize, didn't they call it Blade runner?—for a moment before remembering he had something to do. He almost tripped over a large box labeled “HAZARD BOX,” covered with sticky notes like, “Maybe bring Molotov mocktails next time, lol,” and “I am NOT cleaning up a glitter bomb, so whoever brought it has to deal with it if it ever goes off.”

Finally, Kari reached River @hotgaybitch.

“Hey, didn't you or Theodore invite @crybaby-spider?” he mumbled, sipping his concoction of fruit juices through a purple straw.

Btw dividers credit

[purple-venus-70]

Woah...cool android...

@asciiid 's supremely cool spidersona, H.A.S.S. with a bonus Armadeira going stupid in the corner because COOL ROBOT

[nan0-sp1der]

sits on your dash like this

[nan0-sp1der]

Who? Who was it? Who took a chunk out of Pioneer 10's radioisotope thermoelectric generator? I am not upset. I simply want an answer.

[nan0-sp1der]

I believe that is due to a universal concept known as the "Rule of Cool". If it's cool, it simply defies all reason. Something unique to Hobie's sense of style, I would imagine.

Ever pranked Hobie back??

-🤖

gah, ive tried but he’s so good at avoiding it. the only time i got him “back” was when i took his denim and swapped it for a construction worker jacket, but that didnt even count cause he rocked that look as well!

[nan0-sp1der]

It dtz wjhjnaj?

Yes. I read you clear, Niomi. We meet again.

[nan0-sp1der]

Question: should i be able to chug arsenic and not die? I drank two bottles and im worried.

Seeing as I have answered this several days late...

I will presume you are already dead.

If not, just do as I usually instruct whenever one of you has ingested some mysterious or hazardous substance: Drink water until you regurgitate or to at least flush out the substance in your excrement.

And I will say this only one time.

STOP.

INGESTING.

NON-DIGESTABLE.

MATERIALS.

Thank you.

[nan0-sp1der]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 ?

𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐦. you give and give. you are a gentle heart, broken but still standing... always lending a hand for those who need it, expecting nothing in return. you deserve someone taking your hand and kissing your open palm, the hands which have selflessly helped so many others. { thieved from @templeofvengeance & @spiderman2-99 } { tags; @lyrate-lifeform-approximation , @ghostly-sunflower , @whosmoraless , @noir-spider-noir , @spiderpunkofficial , @pavitr-prabhakar-50101 , you. }

[nan0-sp1der]

The open door ushers Bridge in, and she just as soon takes notice that Kyoki was in full uniform, save for the mask. Concerning, that the woman was putting herself in further danger when she was already very likely hindered by her ailment. The last thing she needed now was to go out there and throw herself into danger when she barely had her head on straight enough to send a coherent text.

Nevermind how her body temperature read in Bridge's thermal sensors. She was undoubtedly running a fever, and yet she was pushing herself to continue her patrols like it was nothing. Gingerly, she placed the still warm container of soup down on the kitchen counter before wandering back out to try and stall a bit for time. Maybe she can get her to stay and rest a while.

"Going somewhere?"

" You [sent] me a long and incoherent text that held about 90% of the emoji list and about four different languages. [I] figured it wouldn't hurt to drop by and see how you were doing. "

Bridge already had a container of wonton soup from the best Chinese place she knew in-hand, with extra lemon added at her request. She was ready to play nurse for the day and nobody was going to stop her.

Kyoki groaned, really not wanting to be 'mommed', but she knew there was no stopping Bridge when she had her mind set to something, so she opened the door all the way to let the elder spider in. “I don't even know four languages, how the hell did I manage that?” She sat down on her bed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. There was no time for her to be sick, and judging by the fact that she was in her Spider-Suit sans the mask, she'd been getting ready to head out when Bridge showed up.

[nan0-sp1der]

The stars sing to me.

[nan0-sp1der]

> H.A.S.S._INFO

Greetings. It seems you have found my internet blog, or 'Tumblr', as one would call it. Here you will find some basic information about myself, as seen below. Do read through it at your leisure or at your convenience.

> NAME: " BRIDGE ", HUMANOID ANDROID SURVEYOR SYSTEM, NAN0-SPIDER, "BB"

> ACTIVATION DATE: DECEMBER 24TH, 3048, 4:00:35 UTC

> WEIGHT: 95 LBS / 43.09 KG

> HEIGHT: 5 FT 8 IN / 172.72 CM

> SPECIES: ANDROID, ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE, " SPIDER-PERSON ", " THING "

> LOCATION: EVERYWHERE AND NOWHERE

> MBTI: ENTJ-A

> ADD. DOCUMENTATION 🔗

> AUDIO RECORD 🔗 [MISSING ENTRIES]

> VISUAL REFERENCE:

> CONNECTIONS

> Boss - @spiderman2-99

> Allies - @lyrate-lifeform-approximation , @glowing-arachnid , @kari-araneaai , @noir-spider-noir , @peterbsideparker , @spiderbite-from-0202 , @ghostly-sunflower , @itsmiguel2099 , @peacockjumpingspider , @criskape , @spideroracleofficial , @whodo-yourvoodoo , @dumbgreenmutt42, @spiritarachnid , @i-love-vines , @whosmoraless , @thespider-witch , [INCOMPLETE DATA SET]

> Enemies - Deimos

> VERSES / 'AU's'

[ TEMPORARILY DEPRECIATED FUNCTION ]

> DIRECTORY

// post tags

> .IMG - reposted images

> .TXT - reposted textposts

> .LOG - IC blog posts

> Active Processes - physical interaction posts

> ABOUT_H.A.S.S. - headcannons about the muse

> { mun's art } - you get it

> { mun's writing } - self-explanatory

> { ask the mun/muse } - the ask game tag

> { OOC } - mun posting

> { Patch Notes } - small but relevant updates to the blog and other yammering from mun about the blog that is supposedly relevant like seriously who cares?

> { a blip on your dash } - queued posts

> MUN_INFO/RULES

Mun/Admin: misnomer/misno/'mis', she/they/them--nonbinary preferred

lives in the EST timezone

Other Blogs: @asciiid, @whodo-yourvoodoo

{ OOC looks like this by the way. This is mun, hi. A lot of Bridge's blog posts might have this weird formatting, but more often than not it'll just look like a normal post without the additional formatting and whatnot. If this lowers readability for anyone, do let me know asap so I can use a more readable method. }

{ here's some basic guidelines for interacting with the muse or myself }

18+ content is permitted, but smut is a no-go. Gore and violence are ok (I'll include a CW out of courtesy ofc).

Haven't really (openly) dived into shipping the muse yet, but if you're considering, hit me up with a DM and we'll discuss things further for the sake of cohesion. Please, please ask me first.

My activity is a bit scattered. if im slow on the pick-up, im either: burnt-out, busy, still trying to figure out how to reply, or with my head deep in a project of some sort. it's never going to be personal.

If I ever forget about a thread, hit me up! I have the memory of a goldfish (/j) and tend to forget most things with ease. Just remind me.

Asks directed at mun are ok! just be mindful and specify who the ask is for. :)

It's self-explanatory that if you come to cause (genuine) trouble, you're not going to receive a warm welcome. think before you speak.

Kind-of a personal rq but if you're ever curious about oc lore or wanna interact to explore it a bit more, I'll happily oblige! This character has been a passion project for about three years now, so I have plenty to share--both tangible and in the form of thoughts that have yet to see paper... oops.

Random starters to my ask box or tagged are ok! Mind the brief period of inactivity as I formulate a reply.

Wanna do an art or writing collab of some sort? Hit me up at @asciiid! Alternatively, DM me here and we'll discuss there.

Thanks for reading, and see you somewhere out there in the rpc. (^^)

[nan0-sp1der]

17:15:45 UTC, Greenland, E-928. A small impact had just erupted in the snowy fields several seconds ago, creating a streak of scarlet in the setting sky. While the impact does not leave a crater, what is left is a clearly disoriented individual who is now stumbling through the landscape. After meandering a few feet away from the steaming hole in the snow, they stop to finally try and get their bearings.

“... Re-entry… Successful. Commencing return to…”

She doesn’t even get to finish her sentence as she inexplicably finds herself landing face-first in the snow. The sheer heat still radiating off her body makes the snow boil and evaporate beneath and around her, the temperatures she reached when falling through the atmosphere at Mach-Jesus being high enough to turn any normal human into beef jerky.

And, frankly, it just about nearly fried her, too.  Even though she did account for this by landing in as cold an area as possible while still being close enough to H.Q. that she could be recovered God forbid, it was going to take some time for her internal hardware to cool down enough to be decently functional.

For now, she just lay in the snow like an overcooked vegetable, blanching in the snow.

She just needs to rest for a bit. Just a little while...

She'll be fine. When she can move her limbs, again, anyways.

[nan0-sp1der]

Bridge had just wandered into Miguel's office after handling matters separate from the mission, and she is no less befuddled by the sight of the form Miguel has been forced to take. Beans. This man--thing--is full of beans. And everyone was just hovering around him like he was some kind of science experiment. May as well be, with how obscure this metamorphosis was. She can still remember the sounds his body made whilst undergoing the transformation... Horrific. She shudders.

"Greetings... Apologies for my absence, I had other matters that needed attending. How is, erm...?"

Her gaze wanders over to the Blob-guel. Her eye twitches in inherent discomfort. She doesn't want to know how it must feel.

"... How is... Miguel?"

Horrible, she imagined.

[fuck it. today everything (that's not an ongoing thread) will be answered by ballguel. ive given up. im well and truly cooked.]

[every cool rp blog™ can unfollow me now.]

Miguel wasn't sure when or how the mission today went wrong. It was just another run-of-the-mill dimensional displacement-- a rogue villain got suckered into the wrong place and brought havoc, and Bridge and Miguel had to be the custodians to clean it up. It was supposed to be simple. Routine, even. The villain was a B-grade 19th century alchemist who was so edgy he named himself after the devil, for shock's sake! A great calm field mission for the weary droid.

Unfortunately, God must have a massive vendetta against Miguel O'Hara.

The fight already was a headache in and of itself. This Diablo wasn't quite so B-grade-- he just had to come from a universe where alchemy wasn't just a bunch of crock dreamt up by lead-poisoned old men who thought they could turn rocks into gold; he was an actual super-powered, god-assisted mage-in-all-but-name.

Qué maravilla.

Not only did Miguel have to call for back-up; no, that wasn't humiliating enough. Right before Miguel could get the hard-light netting around the alchemist, the bastard full-force threw something at him faster than his (already battle-fatigued) reflexes could allow him to dodge.

Now... he can't exactly remember what happened after. Maybe his brain blocked it out or something. There was the impact. Excruciating pain, so raw and visceral; bones crunching and muscle and skin warping in ways that should never, ever be possible. The muffled voices of Bridge and Peter.

And then...

Well. He woke up back in HQ.

And he couldn't speak. Couldn't scream. Couldn't move. Was suddenly far too small and far too vulnerable. In the place of hard muscle and worn flesh was some odd soft, gelatinous filling, poorly held in by some odd, stretchy membrane like a water balloon. Strong limbs gave way to nubs of flesh, unjointed and stiff; barely able to support his unwieldy new body.

And he was about 5 inches tall.

And Peter was shocking cooing at him and poking him and- and- and-

Christ. Okay. He can- he can solve this. He's smart. Nobody outside of who was with him during the mission would have to know! He'll just shut himself in his office and... hop on the keyboard to make some elaborate lie about being out of commission due to some injury. Wait until either the spell wears off (it better shocking not be permanent) or for LYLA to make an antidote.

This is- fine. Controllable. Pantshittingly terrifying? Yes. Some sort of new personal hell? Yes. Extremely humiliating to the point if it ever got out, Miguel might never be able to show his face to the damn Society again? YES.

But- it'll.... it'll be fine. Surely.

Now if he could just squeeze his way out of the hand holding him, that'd be great too.

[nan0-sp1der]

I have a bit of a dilemma.

I seem to have recently acquired a companion of sorts on a recent mission to a particularly winter-y area, and... Well...

I have named him Columba, after a constellation just south of Canis Major and Lepus. I have already fitted them with their own device to stabilize their atomic resonance and avoid any upsets.

Debating whether or not I will devise a translator of sorts for Columba, unsure how much chaos that would create. We will see...