#spider man brainrot <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[lokilaufeys]

peterquilll -> legospiderman

if i change my url again in the next 6 months please take my account away

[canigirl]

gonna need a scene in beyond the spiderverse where prowler miles finds out about the life he was supposed to have and just Goes Apeshit . he deserves it man he’s just a kid

[the-kr8tor]

Hobie Brown x blackcat! reader

*tw blood, tw injury*

No thoughts, head empty. Imagine Hobie finding you on a random balcony, bleeding and smoking. He hops next to you. Reading the room, he doesn't acknowledge that you're bleeding since you're uncharacteristically quiet. He notices that you don't want to talk, but since you didn't tell him to fuck off, he stays. Moments pass and you silently offer him a cigarette, he lifts up his mask a little to put the cigarette on his lips. The only lighter you have conveniently is not working, so you grab his neck to light his cigarette with yours still on your lips. You're so close he can smell the iron from your injury mixed with your familiar perfume. You hold eye contact. Imagine for the first time you render Spider-Punk speechless. 

[fae-of-prey]

one thing about me is that no matter where my hyperfixations take me i always come back to peter parker, that’s the father of my children right there<3

[sensesdialed]

..... hey guys i'm alive by the way just still on @bravevolunteer

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Dumb Lucifer Scenario Dump

Here are just a bunch of like random scenarios that popped into my head; usually when I was half asleep or hadn't slept for several days. Im not going to do anything with these beyond this post so if someone wants to like turn these into a short story or comic, feel free. Just link back and give me credit for the idea please ~<3 Id love to see what you make!!

Contents/WARNINGS: Heavy drinking; allusions to Lucifer being outcasted everywhere; potential sad ending on third one; Alastor casually breaking hearts; Lucifer needs therapy or meds or something Actual brainrot below the cut. Not beta read we die like men -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Who Needs Magic Anyway? ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

(Little bit of context; this idea came about because I was talking to @writteninlunarlight-years about the whole 'there is only one bed trope thing)

Lucifer and reader are both drinking together. They both get so plastered that the reader cant go home on their own and Lucifer cant make a decent portal. (The portals keep fizzing out, going to the wrong places.... Point is he cant do it right atm).

So Lucifer offers to have the reader stay with him for the night. Even in their drunkin state, the reader side-eyes Lucifer at his offer and the guy just keeps digging his hole deeper Saying stuff like:

Lucifer: I-I meant we can sleep together as friends. Reader: *blinks* Lucifer: WAIT-

Lucifer even offers to make you one of those stupid pillow walls in between you two if your really that uncomfortable. What a gentleman

Anyway, you both eventually end up in his bedroom and Lucifer changes into duck pajamas (because of course thats what he has. what else would the guy have really). Then you both look at each other awkwardly as you both realize you… don't exactly have anything comfortable to sleep in.

Lucifer quickly says that its fine! He will just magic you up some pjs! Easy! Well. The problem is when he does this, his alcohol infused brain defaulted the entire concept of sleepwear to mean 'Lucifer’s sleepwear.' So when he zaps you, you end up with a perfectly matching set of ducky nightshirt and pants to Lucifer’s very own.

Lucifer immediately wants to die.

Bonus: This entire thing has now made me headcanon that Lucifer cannot control his magic when he is drunk

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Playing the Hero ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

NOTE: I used a spider here, but really it can be any bug. Or whatever you want. I just did a spider because fuck spiders, and the idea of Lucifer cowering at a mini Angel Dust was very funny to me

Its late at night and as usual Lucifer cannot sleep. Lucifer is suddenly disturbed however, by the reader in their adorable pajamas. They are looking around nervously, with their hands hidden in their sleeves.

The man is immediately ready to do anything they ask cause they are just so darn cute.

The reader sheepishly asks him if he can kill a giant spider that has decided to make itself at home in their room. Lucifer, ever the sin of pride, (and maaayyybe wanting to impress them a little), excitedly says that of course he can! Completely pushing away the fact that, he too, is afraid of spiders.

They both go to the reader's room and as soon as Lucifer sees the spider he panics a little. (”Oh god, that is actually a big spider.”, ”Why are its legs so long??”)

Wanting to play the hero but also not wanting to go anywhere near the accursed thing, Lucifer thinks itll be a great idea to just- zap it.

Well, the thing is Lucifer’s hands are very shaky at the moment, due to a combination of having all the reader's attention on him and the fear of holyshitspider. So when he tries to zap the thing he completely fucking misses like an idiot.

The spider goes flying toward the two of them, resulting in both of them bursting out of the room screaming bloody murder and waking up the rest of the hotel.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Don't Overthink It ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

(Again, inspired by @writteninlunarlight-years specifically her post about Making Flower Crowns for the Hazbin Men. This prompt takes place during Valentines Day, but you can easily modify it to be during a different holiday. Can be platonic or romantic.

Valentines Day comes around, and you decide to gift one to the infamous King of Hell. Because youll be sending it anonymously, you decide to go all out. You get him a super nice duck themed gift, handwrite him a card, as well as get him a stunning bouquet.

What you didn't anticipate however, was Lucifer completely losing it when he receives the gift. Apparently its been decades/centuries since he last received a Valentine, let alone one as nice as the one you gave him.

He was the King of Hell after all. You assumed he got a million Valentines automatically because of his position. I mean, Alastor got piles of them so why WOULDNT the King of Hell?

Because of its anonymous nature, Lucifer's ever romantic heart gets obsessed with the Valentine. You love bombed the poor guy on complete accident. Lucifer starts trying to do his own little 'investigations' to figure out who made it for him, like comparing different handwritings to the one on the card and such. Lucifer even starts daydreaming about who it could be and imagining what they are like.

(if its romantic) Your afraid to tell him you did it because you don't want to complicate your friendship with Charlie. A part of you also feels guilty that you somehow managed to put yourself on such a high pedestal in Lucifer's eyes when... your just you.

(if its platonic) You don't want to break Lucifer's heart and tell him that you just wanted to do something nice. You feel guilty for getting his hopes up for something/someone that doesn't exist.

BONUS: At some point in the story, the reader walks by a trashcan/dumpster full of Valentines meant for Alastor that he clearly just trashed right away. Alastor hates Valentines day because everyone wont. Stop. BUGGING. HIM.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

Okay okay, hear me out.

A bantery sort of annoying best friend trope with Miguel O'Hara. Like, hes stubborn, but reader is just as stubborn and hard headed. So like, on a mission Miguel is like "Why werent you paying attention?" and SpiderPerson!Reader is like "You're a very distracting man." And then like, the classic upside down Spiderman kiss. Apologies if this is a mess, the brainrot is real.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: None, just some good ol' fluff paired alongside some classic best friends to lovers. You know the dealio :3

It wasn’t easy being best friends with Miguel O’Hara.

He was stubborn, stoic, annoying, always thought he was right, and incredibly grumpy (almost all the time! It must be exhausting) amongst many other things. But all those things made him who he was, alongside the kindness and care he has for everyone, hidden behind that Spider-Society leader guise.

It wasn’t easy, but he was your best friend just as you were his. Your favourite person amongst the millions of people on this planet, and the billions upon trillions of people in the multiverse.

But it was even more difficult when you had the biggest raging crush on him. You felt like a little teenager, lost in the vastness of your own heart that quickly grew more and more fond of the person you loved with each day that passed.

Your feelings made you act silly and lovesick (and you knew damn well he noticed, he just never said anything about it), but they weren’t going anywhere for the time being so here they stayed.

They weren’t too great during missions though.

~

“Hey, Miguel~,” you say, sidling up to him with a stupid grin on your face. He stops you with a palm on your face, not allowing you to get too close.

“Ugh, what-?” he says, pulling his hand back in disgust. “Did you just lick me?!”

“Don’t put your hand in front of my face then, you should know by now the consequences of that,” you say with a tsk, before bursting into laughter at his expression.

“Unfortunately,” he sighs, rubbing it onto your suit. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” you say, pretending to be confused.

“What do you mean what- The mission? Are you ready for the mission we’re supposed to be going on in the next minute,” he huffs incredulously.

“Obviously, Miguel,” you snort. “How long have we been doing this job? Have you so little faith in me?” you ask.

“Yes,” he deadpans, and you gasp.

“How dare you?” you say, pressing a hand to your chest in offence.

“You are the most dramatic person I know,” he says, glancing over toward you as he programs the watch to the universe you were both headed to.

“You love me,” you say in turn.

“Unfortunately,” he says, and you grin widely.

“Awwww, Miguel~,” you say, pulling him into a hug that he hesitantly returns (though you knew he loved hugs, he would just rather die than admit it).

“Alright, alright,” he says pulling away. “Focus up, we need to be on our A-game for this guy.”

“Aye, aye, captain! Lead the way,” you say, and he rolls his eyes but can’t quite conceal the smile on his face at your antics before his mask reforms on his face.

Together you both make your way through the portal, getting transported past thousands of worlds in mere seconds before arriving at the one with the anomaly.

“Oh, cool~,” you say with a childlike wonder. Around you is a world that looked like it came straight out of a painting, everything looking almost acrylic in nature and beauty.

“You saw this in the briefing,” he says to you but looks around himself with a sort of wonder.

“A picture on a screen is entirely different from seeing something like this in real life, Miguel,” you retort, still looking around in awe. Looking down at your own form, your costume was blended in splotches of your iconic colours, like you had walked right out of a portrait.

He doesn’t say anything to that, instead patting your head once before walking away toward the mission site.

“C’mon. The faster we finish up, the sooner we can head back. We can have a movie night back at my place, yeah?” he says, and you perk up immediately before running after him.

“That sounds perfect, ‘cause I baked too many cookies that I don’t know what to do with,” you say embarrassed, knowing full well that you had baked them for him. He always did love your baking.

You notice the side of his mask shifts upward slightly, a telltale sign that he was happy even with the mask concealing most of his expressions but you don’t say anything, only smiling softly to yourself.

“Lyla, do a full sweep of the building before we head in. I don’t want any surprises,” he calls out, and the AI pops up immediately.

“Ugh, so bossy,” she says, and you snort.

“You could say that again,” you say in turn, while Miguel only sighs.

“Are you two done insulting me yet?” he says, and you turn to face him, walking backwards as you do.

“Never!” you say, before you’re snatched off of the ground with a yelp. He calls out your name, immediately swinging in after you.

“NOT COOL DUDE,” you shout to the villain who had his tentacles wrapped around your waist, dangling you upside down as she stuck to the ceiling. “Shouldn’t you be in the sea, doing…whatever octopuses do?”

“This seems a lot more fun,” the villain says, her voice a gurgling sort of low tone that sounds much more ominous than it should.

You shoot your webs out onto the ceiling, trying to pull yourself up and out of her grasp to no avail, her hold too strong.

Bit by bit her hold continued to tighten, inhibiting your ability to breathe.

“H-hey, we can talk about this right?” you gasp out, but before you know it Miguel was flying up toward you.

He looked so serious and intent on getting you out, his muscles flexing as he held on to his webbing.

Quite frankly, it was hot.

So hot that you failed to notice that Miguel had smacked you out of the villain’s grasp, expecting you to swing yourself out. Instead, you fall to the floor with a thud and a loud groan. It wasn’t a far fall, and all your limbs were still intact but the wind that was already limited in your lungs was smacked out of you, and the ground was definitely going to leave a bruise.

“FOCUS!” he shouts to you, sending another punch to the villain’s face to knock her off balance. That luckily snaps you out of your reverie as you stand back onto your feet, swinging up to help him out.

You use your webbing to pull the tentacles off of the wall, meanwhile, Miguel acts as a distraction so she can’t focus on the fact that she’s being brought down to the ground where a trap lay for her to land in.

Bit by bit more tentacles become loose, and with one last hit from Miguel she falls to the floor with a scream, the force field raising around her immediately.

“You won’t get away with this!” she says angrily, but you only smirk, swinging down to her level.

“Doesn’t seem like there’s much you can do in this position, can you? Don’t worry, we won’t keep you for long. You’ll be back in your universe in no time~” you say, opening up a portal straight into the holding room for the other anomalies and pushing her in.

“Bye!” you say simply before the portal closes, taking her with it.

Then, the building is quiet, and you wince as you feel Miguel’s imposing aura behind you. Grasping your shoulder, he whirls you around as he looks at you exasperatedly.

"Why the hell weren’t you paying attention?" he asks you, arms moving animatedly as they usually do.

“In my defence…you didn’t notice her coming either,” you say.

“That’s not an excuse! You have your Spidey-sense, you have an instinct that tells you when you’re in danger,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And that fall, what was that? You saw me coming, why are you so distracted today?” he says with a sigh.

“Well, you’re a very distracting man,” you mumble, and his eyes widen slightly under his mask before it dissipates, leaving only his handsome face behind. You pull off your mask in turn, only staring into his eyes.

He stares back before sighing.

“Are you hurt?” he says, his eyes running over your body scanning for any injuries.

“I’ve taken worse hits than that, you know,” you say in turn, your face heating up slightly.

“An injury is an injury regardless of how bad it is,” he says, walking around you to make sure nothing is out of place.

“Jeez, you should take your own advice Mr. ‘I don’t need to go to the infirmary ever’” you huff.

“That’s different,” he retorts.

“It’s really not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m not gonna argue with you right now,” he rolls his eyes.

“Oh c’mon, you know that’s your favourite pastime,” you smirk.

“It’s not.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, it is.”

“I only tell the truth, it’s not.”

“You say that, but here you are arguing with me again,” you grin, and he groans.

“Regardless, you did good today,” he says after a moment.

“I always do good, what do you mean,” and he looks at you incredulously.

“Can you just allow me to compliment you?”

You just shrug.

“Ehhhh, I struggle to accept compliments because deep down I’m incredibly insecure and can’t make myself believe that I can do well, let alone have other people think that so…yeah!”

“…we’ll talk about this later,” he says, patting your shoulder (the tiniest bit awkwardly, which made you almost laugh considering how long you two have known each other).

“So, since you think I ‘did good’ today, what’s my reward?” you ask expectantly, the corner of your mouth quirked up. He hums for a moment before slinging his webs onto the ceiling, swinging himself up so that he hung upside-down.

“C’mere,” he says, and you look at him confused.

“What on Earth are you doing?” you say.

“Can you just listen to me for once and come here?” he says exasperatedly, so you relent and walk so you’re about a foot away from him.

“Closer,” he says, and you step closer hesitantly, the proximity making you nervous. He only huffs, reaching out to grasp onto your arm so you’re standing face to face.

The hand on your arm reaches up, softly placing itself on your cheek as you let out a little gasp. His eyes bore into yours, and you get lost in the swirling crimson and gold.

“Is this alright?” he says softly, his breath fanning across your face. You felt your heartbeat pick up as the warmth of his hand pressed into your cheek gently. You can’t do anything but nod.

His lips press into yours, slightly chapped but soft as he kissed you softly.

You had never felt anything so right.

“What was that for?” you whisper as he pulls away after a few seconds that felt like an eternity condensed into a single moment.

He snorts softly before swinging back onto his feet, pulling you into his chest with a hug.

“I know you have feelings for me,” he says, and your body tenses for a moment at the blatant comment.

“I-” you start, but he interjects calmly.

“Hasn’t it been obvious that I have feelings for you too?” he asks as he pulls away, cupping your cheeks in both his hands.

“I, I thought it was just because I was your best friend,” you say as all those little moments you’ve had over the years play through your head. It makes him laugh softly, oh how you loved that laugh.

“You’re painfully oblivious sometimes, you know,” he says, but the fondness is evident in his voice.

“Can you kiss me again?” you ask, a tad bit flustered but you already missed the feeling of his lips on yours.

He smiles down at you before kissing you tenderly, fingers tangling through your hair as your hand rests on his chest, feeling his racing heart.

Finally, you felt complete.

~

~

“I didn’t know you were so soft,” you giggle as you return back to HQ.

“I am not soft,” he says almost offendedly, but the corner of his lip is quirked up the tiniest bit. “Though if I was, it would only be for you.”

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @rawegggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana—belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @ieatmunson, @honeii-puff, @wh0re4zaynmalik, @toplinehyunjin, @ohworm-writes

A/N: Two updates in one day? That's wild, haha. Am I writing this because I saw this prompt and I myself am in love with my best friend? Absolutely, but hey! Coping mechanisms, am I right :)

[awhoreintheory]

Just picture it. The batfam returning to the cave after patrol to find Tim practically vibrating in the batchair in front of the batcomputer, five cans of zesty crushed at his feet. A looping snippet of cowl footage playing on the main monitor. The quad somersault, as performed by spider-man (current unknown, meta, they are trying so hard to track him tf down but he's slippery as all hell). He has acquired a new hyperfixation.

Why can't I drawwwww?? Do you see what I see???

I'll stop spamming you bc I have to actually do all the stuff I've been procrastinating all day, but yes. You and me, me and you. Same brainrot. I love you. Please feed us your fanfics.

Anon I'm in love with you.

Our brains are touching rn. I see the vision and it's gorgeous. It's everything I've ever needed in life.

Tim and Bruce obsessing the most, followed closely by Dick. Because hello? Unknown meta, going around in bat territory, trying to be a vigilante? (Well, they're kind of succeeding, but don't say that in front of Bruce or he'll tweak.) He's clearly trained, and his suit is high tech, but all of that is secondary to the fact he's out here doing Dick's signature move. The only reason batman doesn't immediately hunt him down is because

1. He failed the first time because Spider-man was obviously trained in evasion (wrong, it's his spidey sense)

2. It's very clearly a teen under the mask, and Bruce has already mentally resigned to the fact that he's likely coming out of this game of bat and spider with a new kid (also wrong, he's coming out as a grandparent)

Its one big, jumbled chaotic mess and Peter thinks it's the funniest thing in the world (minus the stalking)

Also no way you're bothering! I adored the asks <3 have fun completing your side quests!

[sanguineterrain]

if you give a spider a pastry... | miguel o'hara

Summary: Mango turnovers and a bloody Spider-Man. Basically, a regular night in New York. 

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x baker!gn!reader 

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings/tags: injured Miguel (he's okay dw), brief arguing. mostly fluff and sass. first meeting.

A/N: hi y'all! I watched ATSV yesterday and the Miguel brainrot has advanced <3 this is my first time including Spanish in a fic. Since Miguel is Mexican, I did research and tried to incorporate Mexican slang. It's not the responsibility of any reader to correct me—however, I appreciate corrections of the Spanish, if offered. :) 

A/N 2: also, the timeline/universe details are vague in this one, but I pictured that the reader is not in Earth-2099. 

If you enjoy this fic, please let me know through comments and reblogs ♡

the divider

Something is trying to crawl into your dumpster. 

You've armed yourself accordingly (got a dust broom out of the closet) and after fifteen minutes of agonizing over whether you should go outside or go to bed, you have decided you are going to deal with the pesky raccoon once and for all. Or cat. Or opossum. Whatever. You just hope it doesn't have rabies. 

Slowly, you edge open the back door of the kitchen to the bakery. You tap the outside railing a couple of times with your broom. Clink clink. There's no sound in response, so you step out a little further, hitting the broom bristles against the stairs. 

"Ba-boom, ba-boom!" you shout into the alley. You'd read you're supposed to make noise to scare off raccoons. Or was it bears? 

No, that doesn't make sense. When's the last time you saw a damn bear in New York? 

You wait, heart rate climbing. There's no more noise, so you open the door all the way and quickly shut it behind you, gripping the broom with both hands. You jump out into the open. 

The dumpster is covered, which is wildly embarrassing for you. However, right next to the dumpster is a giant dude in what you assume is a Spider-Man costume, though it's not like the one you've seen. 

His stomach is covered in blood.

"Holy fuck," you say, dropping the broom. "Shit. Fuck! Oh my—uh, s-stay right there, don't move."

"Sound advice," he says dryly, startling you. "I was going to do a little dance for you."

Okay. Blood loss has different effects on people. You can't take it personally; this dude has half his guts in the alley. 

You grit your teeth and pull out your phone, shakily typing in your passcode. As soon as you do, a glowing orange rope—web?—shoots out and yanks your phone right out of your hand. 

"No," he grits out. "Todo bien."

"Everything is not fine. What is wrong with you, dude? You're bleeding out!"

"I'm not bleeding out, dude; most of the blood isn't mine."

"Yeah, that's definitely not true," you say. "Look, I don't know what would possess a person to come out here ten o'clock at night and do… whatever this is, but I'm not letting someone die next to my dumpster. Give me my phone!"

"No," he says, hissing in pain as he shifts his weight. "You're overreacting and hysterical."

"Hysterical?" 

You can't see his face but you know he's rolling his eyes. 

"Can you relax?" he asks. "Chale, I'm not itching to bleed out next to your dumpster. I'll be on my way as soon as my body repairs itself enough for me to move."

"You're literally insane, man. Absolutely bonkers. You've lost your Silly String."

"Silly String…" he echoes.

You strut up to him and try to snatch your phone. He dodges you a couple of times, then swats at you like a cat. 

"Enough," he snaps. "Don't make me web you."

"Web me? Okay, you know what? Screw you, man. I'm not gonna call anybody. Bleed out for all I care. Keep the goddamn phone, I'll get a new one. Christ."

You pick up your broom and stomp up the stairs, yanking open the back door and slamming it behind you. Fucking New Yorkers. First rule of living here: mind your business! You try to be a good Samaritan and get verbally accosted by Spider-Man on steroids. Typical. 

You fume for about two full minutes, glaring angrily at your shelf of baking trays. Then you hear the bane of your existence groan in pain outside. All the anger leaves you. 

You can't just ignore him. Accelerated healing or not, he's vulnerable. What if someone tries to attack him? 

This is probably the worst idea you've ever had. You walk to the fridge anyway and pull out two mango turnovers. You nuke them in the microwave, which physically pains you to do, but you're in a time crunch, so. 

You open the door gently this time and step outside. 

"Spider-Man?" you ask quietly. 

You hear him sigh. 

"¿Qué quieres?"

You go down the stairs and walk so you're in view again. He hasn't moved from his position. Your phone rests on his uninjured thigh. 

"Sorry for yelling at you," you say. 

He stiffens, then looks away. 

"You don't need to apologize. I… Soy un cabrón."

"Yeah," you say, walking over and sitting across from him. "Little bit." 

He sniffs the air, his suit's eyes narrowing at you. You set the paper plate with the pastry on his thigh and take your phone back. 

"What's this?" 

"It's a mango turnover," you say. "I've been experimenting this week."

"Why is it on my leg?"

"What, did you think I was gonna feed you?"

"Take it," he orders. "I don't want it."

"Are you allergic? I have other flavors."

"The flavor is not the problem."

You bite into your own pastry. You puff out air, trying to cool it down. 

"Ih hah," you tell him through a mouthful. 

"Oh, really?" he deadpans. 

You swallow. "I'm trying to extend an olive branch here, Spider-Man. I think we got off on the wrong foot."

"Why did you come back out?" he asks exasperatedly. 

"I didn't want you to be alone," you say. "What if someone tries to pull off your mask and ruin your secret identity? That's, like, totally devastating in the superhero world, right?"

"And what exactly would you do if they did? Throw a pastry at them? Whack them with your broom?"

"I'm wily," you say, biting into your pastry. "You should eat it before it gets cold."

"No."

"They came out pretty good, if I do say so. Priya—she's my other baker—had her doubts, and I did too, honestly. But this seems like a success."

He remains stoic, likely glaring at you. You finish your pastry and flick the crumbs off your mouth. 

"You'd be doing me a favor, taste testing," you add. "Gotta make sure it suits other people's palettes." 

"I already did you a favor by getting rid of the people who did this," he says, gesturing to the blood. 

Your mouth pinches unhappily. 

"I wish you'd let me take you to the hospital."

"It's unnecessary. I'll be fine soon."

"You're nuts, Opossum-Man."

"Opossum-Man?" he asks, sounding comically offended. "I'm clearly a spider."

"I think that's subjective," you say. "But I'm only calling you that because I thought there was an opossum in my dumpster. Turns out it was you." 

"That's ridiculous," he says. "Wait, what do you mean it's subjective? I'm obviously Spider-Man." 

"Well, what are the pointy things under your eyes?" you ask. "Those throw me off. They look like fangs. I thought you were supposed to be a spider. Those are, like, bat features." 

"Spiders do have fangs," he says with a huff. "How do you think they incapacitate their prey?"

"I think you're giving the New York public school system way too much credit here, dude. I didn't learn all that. We had a unit about bees. How come there's no Bee-Man?" 

He scoffs. "What would that even entail? A guy who flies around pollinating the city?" 

You giggle. 

"You're kinda funny, Spider-Fangs."

"I do stand-up in my spare time. Speaking of…"

He pushes himself to stand with a quiet grunt. You stand with him, arm outstretched in case he needs help. Not that he'd take your help. But still. 

He's a big guy. You'd figured as much by his giant shoulders, but standing in front of him really puts it into perspective. You have to crane your head to see his face. 

He hands you the plate. You pull the saddest pout you can muster.

"You're not even gonna taste it?" you ask. 

"No."

"Okay," you mumble, defeatedly taking the plate.

He looks at you for a long moment, then tilts his head forward, pinching the bridge of his nose.  

"Mierda—okay, fine. One bite."

You bounce on your toes as he takes the turnover and lifts his mask up to his nose. You're transfixed by his exposed skin, the dark freckle on his jaw, his full bottom lip. Wow. 

He barely opens his mouth, biting the corner. He chews, swallows, and pulls down his mask. You miss the view immediately. 

"It's good," he says. 

"Holy crap, was that a compliment? Did Spider-Man call my pastry good?"

"I take it back." 

"You can't," you inform him cheerily. "I'm going to put it on my advertisements. Opossum-Man approved! Sales will skyrocket."

He walks away, limping only slightly. Well, you suppose that's better than how he was half an hour ago. 

"Good night!" you call after him. 

He pauses, then turns. 

"How are you getting home?" he asks. 

"Oh, I live right above," you say, pointing behind you. "No worries."

He nods. 

"Órale. Don't visit uptown for a while."

You salute. "You got it, Opossum." 

He flings a web string and then he's gone. It's only then that you look at the plate and realize he took the pastry with him. You can't help your little grin.

[k4lenz]

CW SPOILERS FOR ATSV + hobie's canon? BELOW THE CUT this is not a fic this is just my silly little brainrot rant for the morning ok ty <3 tw mentions of: gangs, murder, lace code, hobie's canon, 'ACAB', punk i said a curse word 😱

did anyone else notice the shot where spider-punk abandoned his suit in the trash when they were showing canon events in ATSV? meaning one of hobie's canon events was rejecting being spider-man and trying to return to living normally (first image below) which is linked to the story 'Spider-Man No More!' so what made hobie want to give up??? and also he has blue laces!! (lace code means blue laces = killed a cop) and all canon events can be slighty different in each universe so is it possible that he was the one who killed the cop close to him? he also just seems very unapologetic about it in the film when miles asks him, he says "yeah? what of it?" (second photo) idk to me he just doesn't look upset also he does hate fascists and his universe is supposed to be pretty fucked up so is it possible the cop he was close to turned on him??? IDK MAN thankyou for listening

[kiwicider]

banana split - peter parker

pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader

synopsis: peter will always be your voice of reason

word count: 723

warnings: kissing, tiny bit of angst. the spider-man brainrot is so bad i had to get this out while i write other stuff (for a diff… spider-man)</3

The cement steps in front of your apartment building felt warm, the small stones and bumps imprinting themselves onto your skin in a pattern. Peter stood a few feet away, conversing with the ice cream man as he prepared a chocolate cone and banana split, laughing loudly at a story the man recalled with a smile.

A shadow flashed over his face from the blinking lights of the ice cream truck, plum-colored bruises littering the expanse of his jaw and tops of his cheekbones. A thin, scabbed over cut ran across his nose, almost hidden by the frame of his glasses. Despite the minimal light and his injuries, he had never looked better to you.

Peter walked back with full hands, the off-white laces of his beat up Nikes in view. “Here, I told him to add whipped cream to yours,” he said, bumping into you as he sat down.

You scooped up a combination of vanilla and strawberry onto the spoon, wiping the excess on the side. “Thanks Pete,” you mumbled through a mouthful of ice cream, wiping at the corner of your lips.

A small crowd of younger kids formed by the truck, handing their money through the window in exchange for popsicles of cartoon characters. You couldn’t help the way your lips quirked up at the sight of them, the scene reminiscent of a childhood spent with Peter by your side.

“Remember when we were that small?” you asked softly, motioning towards the kids with your head.

Peter nodded, licking around his scoop of chocolate. “I used to beg May to give me a couple extra bucks so I could buy you something too,” he replied with a laugh. “It’s hard to come up with money at eight years old, the tooth fairy can only do so much.”

You snorted at the memory, thinking back to a bright eyed Peter showing you the crumpled dollar bills and quarters he’d gotten from Aunt May to buy your banana split. The two of you could barely reach the window, struggling to place your money on the small piece of plywood that acted as a counter.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips sticky but soft. “It’s been almost fifteen years and your order hasn’t changed.”

A smile pulled your lips upward and you nodded, glancing up at him. Up close, you could see his bruises clearly, the marks a nasty contrast against his fair skin. He noticed the way your face faltered the more you stared, your fingers reaching up to skim his cheek.

You spoke after a pause. “A lot has though, right?”

Peter could hear the shift in your voice, worry showcasing itself in the way your body melded with his, as if sticking to his side like gum would keep him around forever. He brought his hand up to the small of your back, holding you steady.

“Yeah, but we’ve stuck together,” he murmured into your hair, the scent of your lavender shampoo mixing in with cigarette smoke coming from a neighbor. “That's all that matters, right?”

You nodded. “Sure, but I can’t help but wish things were different sometimes. Not with us, necessarily, just—”

Peter cut you off. “The spider thing?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a dry laugh, pushing the ice cream around with your spoon. “To wish for that, even when you help so many people… it’s selfish, isn’t it?”

“Not selfish,” the brunette countered. “You worry and so do I, even if I won’t admit it all the time. It’s normal”

“Right, sure, I guess it is normal.”

“You don't have to worry,” he reassured you. “I’ve got you, always.” Peter leaned over and peppered kisses around your face, eliciting a dulcet laugh that lightened his mood. “We won’t always have it figured out, sweetheart, but we’re meant to stick together.”

You nodded and grinned when he pulled you closer to him, his hand curling up against your waist. The feeling of his warm palm on your skin washed a wave of comfort over you, crawling up your limbs and nestling deep in your body. Sounds of chattering and bells on bicycles ringing floated around the night air, and whatever uneasiness you felt earlier was gone now.

If Peter could be anything to you, he’d always be your voice of reason.

© 2023 KIWICIDER - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours.

[xinganhao]

hiii user xinganhao!! not sure if you're a xdinary heroes fan, butttt i'm trying to look for some gunil fluff fics and i cant find any rlly good ones so can you give some recommendations? and maybe some wonwoo fics?? alsooo!! i luv your work^^ you're such a good writer!! can't find any good writers aside from you so can you recco some good writers too?? they don't have to be like your work, at this point i'm just longing for good writers and not those "jeon jungkook x reader, a alpha male wolf and a tiny little kitty" kinda things... sorry to disturb your time!!

hi, anon! thank you so much for appreciating my writing (´◡`) this ask honestly couldn't have come at a more opportune time, because recently i've fallen WAYYY back into my xdh rabbit hole? (i'm a predebut villain + also gunil biased! omg) i'm still looking for more xdh writers to read, but i'll try to get back to you when i find something that catches my eye <3

on the topic of wonwoo fics & good writers, here's some of my current favorites:

my favorite wonwoo fluff is this drabble by fxstpace. i read it when i first joined svtblr around october and i haven't stopped thinking of it at all + aspen's spider-man!sunghoon singlehandedly dragged me back into my engene brainrot

wonustars' in front of me (pt. one + pt. two) is a body of work that characterizes wonwoo so, so well. i'll rave about anna's writing for days. i swear

cxffecoupx currently has THE cutest winter wonderland collection for all your christmassy vibes! ris' first snow with jihoon is my favorite ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

genuinely convinced that kkaetnipjeon's stuff to talk about is one of the best mingyu pieces i've read,, loved everything about it!! i am still going insane over it!!

i want it on record (pun intended) that diamonddaze01's f1 driver!jeonghan au has me on my knees. on the record & off the record have me clawing at the walls of my enclosure,, tara. when i catch you tara.

sorry if this isn't necessarily the xdh recs you were looking for, anon, but trust that there's a lot of writers worth looking into! if you ever find xdh/gunil work, pleaseee slide into my inbox again lmao. i need that man so bad (´•̥̥̥ ‸ •̥̥̥`✿)

[shepherdfeathers]

Marvel brainrot really got me watching the most obscure animated shows I've ever found just for a glimpse of my blorbos

Never would I had otherwise found such...interesting shows like Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends to get like 3 scenes with Kurt in them, or watching the 1994 Fantastic Four cartoon to get two 3-second glimpses of Vision

I just gotta catalogue them all

[jokerbunn]

Silly Headcanons abt Arthur

𓈈⠀⠀ 𝅄 ⠀᧔◍᧓ ⠀⠀ 𝅄 𓈈

I've been brainrotting abt this man in the past 9 months. (I'm so normal abt him.)

So I'll share some of my useless headcanon of him (if you don't agree, pls do not spread hate. This is just my personal view. If you don't agree, it's definitely fine)

1- He is allergic to tomatoes.

My bro is totally allergic to tomatoes. He can't eat them or come into contact with them.

Which is a shame, cuz Penny likes it.

2- Arthur is a little afraid of birds

Don't ask me why. But I can just FEEL that Arthur is a little bit scared of birds. This man is not afraid of spiders or lizards (His mother is terrified of these things. Every time one of these shows up in their apartment, he takes it out for her.), but put a canary near him and watch the real meaning of discomfort.

3- He is obsessed with curly hair.

He definitely thinks curly hair is beautiful. He would even ask to touch someone's hair. But he is very shy and is afraid of hurting the person.

The only hair he touches is his own and his mother's. They have the same curl. So it's not really a big difference. But I can feel that he thinks afro hair is beautiful.

4- He's bisexual, period.

He doesn't call himself bisexual, obviously. It's the 80s. And Arthur is afraid of sexuality in general. But something tells me, that Arthur likes both men and women. But he doesn't think it's right for him to like men, because that's not the example he has. Arthur is desperate for romance, and all he knows about it is from movies. And in movies at the time, only heterosexual couples were shown. So I think Arthur would feel dirty because of this.

HaHa's has male strippers, and I'd say he's caught himself looking at them from time to time. But he doesn't know if he envies them, wanting to be like them, attractive to women, or if he wants to touch them.

(he wants both.

5- Arthur has dyslexia.

Throughout the movie, we see that Arthur's handwriting is rubbish. And in Joker 2, it is simply proven by himself that he didn't go to high school. However. In the last year of elementary school, you should already be literate and able to write. Which is not the case with Arthur. He doesn't know how to write properly and his handwriting is poor.

People with dyslexia have a peculiar brain functioning for linguistic processing related to reading. Dyslexics have difficulty associating the graphic symbol, the letters, with the sound they represent, and organize them, mentally, in a temporal sequence.

And I think Arthur fits that perfectly.

6- Arthur has level 2 support ASD.

Arthur is (undiagnosed) autistic, and you can't prove me otherwise. (Im autistic myself, so dont come at me☠️✋🏼)

My bro doesn't recognize irony, he's naive, has hyperfocus, do stimming, and doesn't know how to fit in with society, he feels love in a different way, etc.

He is an autistic man with a hyper focus on comedy and Murray Franklin, period.

Anyways, hope u all enjoy!

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Random Hobie Headcanons [Prt.1]

me screaming about Hobie Brown just existing like these are just random headcanons of him doing fuck all and chilling but uuhhh this is also so long i had to split it in two parts so this is part one

chronic hobie brainrot u know how it is _______________________________________________

He's actually a fairly high ranking member of the Society

I like to think that Hobie - like Jessica and Ben - has a high ranking position in the Society

Even though he didn't mean for this to happen

Hobie's really good at working with teams, and persuading people. He's been Spider-man for a while, plus he has unique experience

He broke the barrier that 3 spider-people couldn't - sorry Miles you didn't loosen anything

Hobie would probably just ace every mission. In like record time

Miguel and Lyla watching it go from HQ and Lyla's like 'Oh, he's gooodd.'

The watches get a bug and need an update - but low and behold, Hobie knew about the bug and fixed his watch weeks ago. Chumps.

They need advice in taking down a particular anomally and Hobie is the only one with ideas that work -

And sure he may take the piss out of everyone and walk around HQ like he either owns the place or is about to burn it down but they can't tell him anything

He's just that good

I could see him helping out new trainees (and radicalizing them), checking in on every new recruit to see if they have a place to stay.

And Miguel respects that. Miguel isn't heartless, he cares about the society. And even though Hobie isn't doing it for him he appreciates the work Hobie puts in

Miguel probably knows Hobie is friends with Gwen, and that he was the one who stepped up when Jess wasn't

He loves to read

It just makes sense

With all the knowledge of anarchy and stuff, I assume he kinda has to be

I love the idea of Hobie and worn paper-back books that he reads again and again

All well loved, all second (or third, or fourth-) hand.

I imagine he reads a lot of non-fiction, and his favorite genre is history

He doesn't know why, but his brain loves reading about it and understanding the communities that existed in different times

But there are some fiction favorites he has, The Giver being one of them

He donates all the ones he doesn't absolutely need, leaving a sticky note in the front cover with a comment, same way he left one on Gwen's new watch

Hobie is a minimalist in morals

But not like the 'all white-house' aesthetic, but like the 'choosing to live with and on less to respect yourself, people around you and the world'

Everything he owns is second hand, and he likes finding really old cheap stuff, cause it connects back to the history thing

Every couch he's ever owned he's found on a street curb

He doesn't have much clothes, most of the stuff he does have were gifts, or from bands and shows

Instead, he goes to community swap-meets, and swaps his clothes for new ones every couple of months

He LOVES seeing other people in the punk scene wearing a shirt he'd swapped months ago, knowing it's gotten a second life

Hobie genuinelly tries not to throw things away if he can help it. Not in a hoarders way, but in an environmentally respectful way.

If he doesn't want it, he'll barter it away, or gift it to someone who'd like it, or make something new.

Even if something is broken, he'll try to gift it to someone who can fix it than trash it. He'd rather leave his busted TV at the door of a repair shop than a back-alley dumpster

He's low food-waste too

He's like 'Miguel bruv we don't waste empanadas in this house' and takes them for himself

He tries to finish everything on his plate (past survival tactic), but now he'll save it for later. Hobie be tearing leftovers UP.

He makes the choice to not carry money

Connects to the minimalist thing, also an anti-capitalist thing

Hobie doesn't like carrying money. As a personal thing.

Fuck he look like keeping pictures of the Queen in his pocket - absolutely not.

He barters everything he can - and he's good at it. He has an extensive network in the underground punk scene of London, and everyone helps out everyone

Weirdly enough, I feel like if you were dating him he's always ask for a fiver or ten quid or something because he genuinely doesn't carry money or change but somehow he's carrying a rare swiss army knife from 1935

But on the inverse side, if he ever comes across money for some reason, he'll have you 'hold it' in you wallet (just give it to you)

To him, it doesn't matter. He doesn't want to be attached to it. It's genuinely a moral he tries to live by.

He loves cats

He has a picture of a cat on his nightstand in his intro

I bet he has multiple indoor cats

But I also imagine Hobie being really interested and connected in the street cats in the neighborhood he lives and frequents (bonus point if cats are his special interest!)

He names them and knows their faces. Feeds them and checks up on them, tries to take care of them best he can

The ones who get hurt or a little old or weak become boat-cats, and they come live with him

He'll feed them fish from the river - and they always eat before he eats breakfast

None of them have bells or collars, they're not his pets - they're his little friends

He had 'weird' but practical eating habits

Hobie eats standing up.

He'll open the fridge and eat right there. He'll set the bowl on the table then stand in front the TV eating. He goes to the food court and doesn't sit down, just walks about

He's use to eating on the street, so to him, it's comfortable

He grew up going to Gregg or Tesco and eating outside. Grabbing something from the chip shop and scranning it as fast as he can before the rain starts coming down

He actually likes food, and wish he could get more into it - but fuck, he'll never be like those snobs that eat $500 dollar dishes at shitty restaurants

Small routines

In the morning, he takes the boat to the docks. Brush his teeth and get ready for the day

Next he feeds the cats that stay by the water, eating breakfast and playing records

He doesn't make his bed, but he checks all the parts of the boat's engine, just a good once over, and makes sure everything's running right

And then he HAS to say hi to all the people on the docks who know him - old men who'd been working there for decades, delighted when Hobie offered to help them unionize

He always reads before bed too, or on restless nights, he writes songs - practices new songs.

if you read this far, thanks! let me know if any of this mattered at all or if youre like 'sib what does any of this got to do with anything of importance bye have a good day and/or night

[alaskan-wallflower]

Im a littel late!!

Boys will be boys hcs with the gang

Pony definitely went through a phase where he made his voice impossibly low to try to get girls or something, haunts darry to this day.

The Curtis bros had absolutely no clue you were supposed to wash your bedsheets. I can picture darry having a girl over and shes like "these are kinda dirty" and his ass goes "I already washed them this year"

soda runs around everywhere with the dogs out. BROS FEET ARE NEVER CONTAINED 🙏🙏

modern day two-bit is constantly screaming "English or Spanish!" To the gang. They all stay planted where they are for HOURS.

This ones not so much 'boys will be boys' but super senior dallas and two-bit. Dally will get rejected and thats just the funniest thing on earth to two-bit.

Pony gets so hangry he will literally rip anyone in the area to shreds, do NOT fw hungry pony😞

Johnny like never washes his clothes. Part of it is from the poverty, but darry will ask if he wants his stuff washed and hes just like "its okay they smell fine :3" (they smell like absolute shit)

Steve will wrestle anything with legs that questions him to the ground. If yk him, your not safe, mans is gonna run up behind and BOOM your down

hangry ponyboy mentioned 🗣️🗣️ (seriously tho i know bro just blows up at darry and darry just holds him by the collar while he yells and tries to swing on him like an angry cat 💀 darry’s just like ‘what’s your problem’ til he hears his stomach growl and he’s like ‘oh 😒’) johnny gets hangry too but more sassy so he’ll quip at pony and pony snaps back and they start fighting in the middle of the street 😭

but YES-i agree with all of these-in the movie steve literally had to remind soda to put his shoes on, bro hates socks (and clipping his nails, pony literally wakes up with blood dripping down his legs and he’s like ‘soda 😡😡’

johnny also just doesn’t wanna be a burden-he gets used to the smell at some point but darry will literally make him strip down and wear pony’s clothes and whenever his clothes are actually washed he’s just sitting there with his eyes wide like he’s experiencing the most amazing thing ever and it’s just because his jean jacket is warm and smells like flowers as apposed to blood and sweat 😭

steve would literally just see a spider and be like ‘oh yeah? you givin’ me that look?” and stomps on it because he’s a bitch-pony has a mean side eye and it’s gotten him a number of tackles to the ground and pony’s screaming ‘what did i do’ while steve puts him in a chokehold 😭

‘i already washed them this year’ BRO 😭😭 it’s the same thing with table cloths like there’s a bunch of stains on it and they’re just like ‘this is fine’-i feel like they know some things because their mom was kind of a neat freak but other than that it was four boys in the house-

also nooooo not english or spanish-two bit would love the brainrot era….

also it’s never too late for bits will be boys headcanons. keep em coming fellas