#tasm1

[astrid-goes-for-a-spin]

I have to say I love the watch webshooters in TASM. They’re undercover and scrunkly. You really feel he made them with shit in his basement

[superherocaps]

[thejdblog]

"You're my Hero..."

Happy 12th Anniversary to The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) 🕷🕸

[christmascheeseballs]

Needing more amazing Spider-Man fics asap plz <3333

Partners

Andrew!Peter Parker x Superhero!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: NO SPOILERS FOR NO WAY HOME!! So, I have a newfound obsession with Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker after watching the movies in preparation for No Way Home, and this is a direct result of that!! I've never written for his character before, and I know this is actually terrible, so I'm sorry!! I don't own any of these characters except (y/n). Enjoy! I also realized this is almost exactly like my other Peter Parker fic, but oh well. You can tell the tropes I like to write for!

Summary: You and Peter Parker are best friends, but neither of you know that you are friends behind your masks as you fight the Lizard together. Will one of you figure it out or will your friendship come crashing down because of it?

Warnings: typical cannon violence, mentions of blood, descriptions of injuries, angst paired with some fluff!!

(y/n) - your name

(y/l/n) - your last name

(y/n/n) - your nickname

(y/h/c) - your hair color

Pulling on your suit, you couldn't help but think of how disappointed Peter would be that you were missing movie night yet again. The pair of you had been friends since you were a freshman in high school. Now seniors, your friendship had grown into something more, but neither of you would admit it. Since Uncle Ben died, Peter had been acting different, but that was to be expected after losing someone that close. You had been there for him, of course, but you also had your own endeavors to worry about. You told Pete everything; everything but the side "job" you had picked up, and the abilities you'd had your whole life.

From a young age, you remember being able to do things no one else was able to. You were extremely more agile, quick, and had could fight off anyone without being taught how. Now, almost two years later, you couldn't be more happy with the life you'd chosen for yourself. Helping people was all you ever wanted to do, and now you were using your powers to do just that.

You mostly had been stopping small crimes, but every now and then, someone interesting would pop up. Crouching in your black, leather suit, you heard a ding from your phone. It was a text from Peter. He'd responded to your message.

Pete: Oh okay. Are you okay, (y/n/n)?

You: Yeah, I just have a lot going on rn. I'm sorry, Pete.

Pete: It's okay. We can watch this movie another day.

With a sigh, you slid your phone into the back pocket of your suit. You hated lying to him, but it was just to protect him from your crazy work. A familiar 'thwip' fills the air, and you turn to see Queens' resident web-head walking, well, more like limping towards you. He slowly eases his way down to the roof of the building you were currently patrolling from.

There was always a comfortable silence between the two of you, even though you knew anything about the other. He'd come join you on patrol a few times a week, so he'd started calling you "Twi," which was short for Twilight, your superhero name. You didn't like the name at first, but it did make sense because you often operated in the shadows. After a while, it had grown on you.

Your mask went around your eyes, and over your nose. You would be easily recognizable if it weren't for your mask's technology that disguised your voice and even made your (y/h/c) hair a different color while you were wearing it. He had his own full-face mask on, of course, so you didn't know who Spider-Man was. You turn to face him with a concerned look on your face.

"What happened to you?"

He takes a deep breath in, staring at the city in front of them. "A giant lizard."

"Yeah right." You chuckle dryly. "And I fought Marvin the Martian yesterday. He had a mean right hoo-"

"I need your help, Twi." he states, turning to look at you. "There really is a 9 foot tall lizard running from me. I tried to confront him, but...well, you can see what happened."

You glanced down at the large claw like gashes on his chest, wincing for him. "You should get that checked out."

He scoffs, "Yeah, that's not happening."

"Don't you have a friend or something who could help you out?"

"Nope. I want to tell my best friend, but she's been really worrying me lately and I don't want to add to whatever she's going through." With a sigh, he asks, "Do you have someone?"

"Nope."

That comfortable silence fills the air again as you look out at the city you try your best to protect. In doing so, you miss the way he was studying your side profile. You looked so familiar to him, but he couldn't put together why. Glancing over at him, you catch him watching you.

"Take a picture, Spider-boy. It'll last longer."

"Sorry," he muttered.

"So," you began, turning to him, "How can I help with your reptile problem?"

"It's not gonna be easy," he starts, sticking his hand out. "Partners?"

"Partners." you confirmed.

"Well, this is how you can help..."

~

He told you of Doctor Connors and how he was going to create an antidote for him. You were in the process of making the formula in the Oscorp building when you received a call from Peter, who you hadn't ever texted back. With a quick sigh, you answered and held the phone between your shoulder and ear, continuing to make the antidote.

"Hey Pe-" you started.

Interrupting you, he speaks frantically. "Are you near the Oscorp building?"

"Uhh. Yeah. Why?"

"You need to get as far from there as you can! Now! Go to Aunt May's place. It's safe there."

"A-alright, Pete. I'm gonna check on my parents at home, but you get far away from there too."

You hated to lie, but you didn't want to worry him more than he already was. The realization that you might not be able to see his goofy smile again finally hit you. Connors was no joke, and Spidey already had already lost to him in a fight once. Luckily, you were pulled from your thoughts by Peter's soft voice.

"Please be careful...I love you, (y/n)."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"(Y/n/n), are you there? Please say something."

"I love you too, Peter."

A sweet laugh escapes him. "That was so much easier than I thought it would be...whoa," he pauses, "I gotta go. I'll call you in a little bit, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Peter."

Hanging up, you're pretty sure that you could hear the exact same voice you'd just hung up with coming through your earpiece that connected you to Spiderman.

"Connors is coming to you right now! You need to get out of there!"

Shaking away the thought, you responded. "The cure is just about done. All I need is maybe three minutes. I'll get everyone out."

"Please don't take him on by yourself. We'll do it toge-" He cut himself off with a groan, and then static filled the comm.

"Spidey!" You yelled, but there was no response.

With a curse, you ran towards the exit and pulled the fire alarm in order to get everyone out of the building. You prayed Spider-Man was okay, because you knew you couldn't beat Connors alone.

You spend the next few minutes waiting for him to arrive. When the ground shook and alarms started to blare, you knew the time had come. Quickly, you sent the lab into lockdown, trying to bide as much time as you could for the antidote to finish. Air hissed as it shot from the ceiling and the only lights were the red emergency signs. The biohazard door sealed the lab, and for a few seconds, you thought it might hold.

"Time remaining: one minute." the antidote machine announced.

Grabbing the Ganali device, you hid it in a lab closet, and hid behind a nearby desk, ready to fight if need be. Loud screeching of metal filled the room, followed by a growl that made the hair on your neck stand up. The footsteps got closer to you and the closet, but they stopped abruptly. Hissing, he ran towards you and slammed into the desk you were hiding behind. Luckily for you, your agility allowed you to get out of the way.

"Look, Doc," you said backing towards the closet, "You know this isn't right. Let us help you."

He lunged at you, swiping his claws at your torso. Dodging it easily, you went on the offensive. You kicked him in the face and did a flip over the monster to get behind him. As you were about to sweep his legs out from under him, his tail came out of nowhere and rammed into your stomach, sending you flying across the room. You landed with a crash on some desks, hitting your head on a metal bar. In an instant, everything started to fade, but your last thought was of Peter before darkness filled your vision.

"Antidote complete."

~

You awoke with a start to see Captain Stacy hovering over you. Head pounding, you sit up with his help. His face was painted with concern, a look that was foreign to his normally solemn demeanor. In the past, the two of you had your problems because he doesn't like vigilantes....at all.

"You alright?" he asks.

You nod slowly. "I gotta help Spiderman."

Helping you stand up, Captain Stacy hands Doc Connors' cure to you. "He's up on the roof. I'm your backup."

"No," you insist, "We've got it. You have a family that needs you."

He tries to argue with you, but soon gives up.

"Here. Take this." he says, handing you his shotgun, "You need all the firepower you can get with that thing."

With a nod, you take the gun and he heads back down to the street-level. When you find your way to the roof, you are met with a sight that makes your heart drop. The Lizard had his tail wrapped around Spidey's neck, choking him, and had his arms held together with one hand. With his free claw, he rips off the hero's mask, prompting a strangled groan to leave the boy's lips. Without the mask, a head of familiar brown hair was revealed.

"Poor Peter Parker." The monster spat.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you're frozen in your spot. Your Peter was Spiderman. A million thoughts run through your head, but the main one was 'how could I not have known?' Every interaction with Spiderman was being reviewed in your head, searching for any signs. Tears filled your vision at Connors' next words.

"No mother, no father, no uncle. All alone."

You couldn't lose him. You had to act now. Summoning all of the courage in your body, you raised the shotgun and pumped it.

"He's not alone."

The creature's attention snaps to you as he roars. Seeing the liquid nitrogen pipe near them, you shoot it, causing it to flail around and emit a cloud of white gas. Peter caught it and sprayed the gas into the Lizard's face and tail, which freed him from the choke hold he was in. As Pete continued to spray Connors with the nitrogen, you started shooting at him.

"Detonation in T-minus 45 seconds. "

Thanks to Peter who kicks him, he falls into a pit that stores multiple containers of the liquid nitrogen. You walk closer to the hole, glancing at your best friend as you keep firing.

"Hey! Finish this!" you yell, handing him the cure. More gas canisters busted and released the freezing gas, subduing Connors for a moment. He reluctantly takes it.

"I got this, Pete! Go!"

At the use of his nickname, he does a double take before climbing up the tall antenna that the Ganali dispersal device was on. You take advantage of the frozen reptile and reload your shotgun.

"T-minus 30 seconds." the computer announces.

Not even 5 seconds later, the pipe releasing the nitrogen sputters and runs out of the gas. The Lizard unfreezes and jumps out of the hole, coming straight for you. Shooting at him, you managed to dodge his first swipe, but with the second, the shotgun is ripped from your grasp. In an instant, his other claw came straight for your stomach. Trying to block it, all you could do was slightly change it's trajectory.

At first, it felt as if you were brutally punched in your side. All the air rushed out of your lungs, leaving you gasping for breath. With wide eyes, you looked up into the face of your attacker. A wicked smile painted his features and he chuckled.

"Guess you weren't quick enough this time."

Glancing down at your abdomen, the sight made you nauseous. One of his claws was completely impaled right above your hip, and crimson leaked from around the wound.

"Detonation in T-minus 10 seconds."

With a growl, he violently ripped his claw from you and took off after Peter. You fell into a heap on the ground, struggling to even catch your breath. Now the pain had set in and heat overtook your system. Sitting up on your elbows, you tried to drag your body over to a nearby wall. With every movement, a whimper escaped your lips, and you couldn't help but stare at the blood trail that followed you.

Finally getting to the wall, you halfway unzipped your suit on the front, revealing your sweat and blood soaked tank top. A loud boom from above caught your attention. Weakly peering up, you saw a blue mist explode into the sky. He had done it. The city was safe. With a relieved sigh, you closed your eyes and rested your head on the wall behind you.

Peter had just been saved from falling by Connors when the man realized what he had done. With a remorseful face, he whispered, "The girl." Spiderman shot up, sprinting towards where he had left you earlier.

"Twilight!" he yelled.

When he saw you laying there, he stopped momentarily out of shock before running over to you.

"Twi!"

You crack open your eyes to see the boy you loved with a scared look. Clearing your throat, you ask softly, "Did you save Doc?"

He grabbed your hand, rubbing it with his thumb gently. "It's okay. We stopped him."

"Peter I-"

"Let's get you out of here, okay?" he interrupted.

"Not yet." With a wince, you reached up and slowly removed your mask. Your disguised hair morphed back into the (y/h/c) strands that Peter loved, and your voice became normal.

"(Y/n)? Wha- No, no, no."

"Hey, Petey. Surprise," you croaked, stifling a cough. When a copper taste filled your mouth, you knew it was bad.

"You're gonna be okay." Peter's eyes were now filled with tears as he spoke. "I'm getting you out of here, now."

In one motion, he swiftly picked you up bridal style. Your vision began to blur. Was it from tears or the blood loss? You didn't know, but the last thing you remembered was Peter's voice fading from your ears.

"Stay with me, (y/n/n). Stay awake!"

~

The first thing you were aware of was the steady beeping from your left. Opening your eyes, you immediately force them shut again at the bright lights in the room. You bring your hand up slowly, covering your eyes. You wince as the movement sends a sharp pain through your side.

"(Y/n)! Careful, you'll pull your stitches." Peter says from beside you. Looking around at your surroundings, you realize you're in the hospital.He sighs, "You really scared me, ya' know?"

"I know. I'm sorry."

Silence fills the room.

"You know I didn't tell you to protect you, right?" He asks

"Yeah. Me too."

He gently took your hand in his, speaking softly. "I meant what I said when we were on the phone."

"I know. I did too."

"Good," he laughed, "because that means I can finally do this."

He leaned over your hospital bed with a goofy smile on his face as he gently cupped your cheek, bracing himself with his other hand beside your head. Your heart began to beat wildly, and you felt a blush creep onto your face.

"I love you, (y/n) (y/l/n)."

"And I love you, Spider-boy."

Bridging the small gap between you, his lips connected with yours in a gentle, but needy and passionate kiss that made you glad you weren't standing up. You'd imagined that moment for years, but it was even better than what you could ever imagine. His lips were warm and soft, and your hand ran through his messy hair.

Pulling away, you were both out of breath. He rested his forehead against yours as he whispered, "Wow."

"Wow, Pete," you repeat breathlessly.

He gently places a lingering kiss on your forehead before sitting beside you on the bed, softly rubbing your (y/h/c) hair.

"So, my girlfriend's a superhero. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Definitely, Parker. Wanna be Partners?" You raise your hand in front of you.

He shakes it just as you had before, "Partners."

[underoospeterparker]

ngl tasm!peter's suit is SICK af

definitely the best spiderman suit

[moocowofdoom]

Found out today that my GF of almost 2 years has NEVER seen TASM or TASM2, so she has now consented to being forced to watch them both this weekend 🤯

[labwebs]

🕸i wonder if we'll get anything more about insom!peter's parents though. seems like a lot of those backpack easter eggs are getting expanded upon in the new game so like. perhaps?

[poems-of-a-lover]

okay nvm im saving the shirts for a bit later when i can rlly focus on it. in the meantime who would be interested in me posting my spiderman thoughts JKGHKJSHGKKJS

[sciderman]

you know i'm kind of obsessed with the tragedy of gwen stacy in the tasm movies because she's - she's such an interesting, tragic creature. we get into it a little in tasm1, that. you know, her father is a police captain - you know, authoritative. incredibly protective of her.

and looking at it, gwen is constantly the victim of men deciding what's best for her. her father decides it's best for her that she stay away from peter. peter decides it's best too, obviously, even though it hurts. it's not a question of what gwen wants.

thinking of the scene in tasm where gwen confides in peter, as she's cleaning his wounds, that she knows what this is - every day she sees her father strap a badge to his chest and she doesn't know if he's going to make it home or not.

gwen's powerless - she has these men in her life that she loves that are constantly making dangerous decisions that put their own lives in danger, and she's constantly expected to sit by passively and do nothing and pray for them to get home safely. like her own desires don't matter. she wants them to be there, she wants to have a say in what these men do, because she loves them and they're important to her. but she has no power. she knows that what they're doing is noble and good for the world, but she is sidelined and never listened to. she has no superpowers, no badge, and no say in the matter.

and her father gets killed. doing something stupid and heroic. and she wasn't involved, and she was powerless to prevent it. and even still, after his death, he's trying to push gwen out of the way of danger. strip her of agency in her own life. she can't be with peter. she doesn't get a say in the matter.

of course that doesn't work out, and peter and gwen wind up back together - but peter is eaten up with guilt, and still thinks he shouldn't be with gwen because gwen is safer without him, yadda yadda, and gwen is sick of it. gwen is sick of men dictating what becomes of her. what she can and can't have. where she should and shouldn't be. so.

i always made fun of this bit of script - it's so, so funny.

"i break up with you peter. i break up with you."

i make fun of it all the time, but i get it. i get why it's written this way. the tasm2 script isn't subtle. gwen is pointedly telling peter that she is calling the shots. peter cannot dictate her fate. this is her choice. she breaks up with him. she is the one with power in this dynamic. she is taking the power. she is not his damsel that needs protecting. she is allowed to tell peter what she wants, and make her own decision about what's best for her.

cut to the end, where peter webs gwen to a car. he wants her out of the line of fire. even though she's proven she's helpful and capable, more so than peter. peter wants her out of harms way, so that he can do something heroic and dangerous.

gwen is SICK of it!! she's going to be heroic and dangerous too. if these men can throw themselves into the line of fire with little care for the people they leave watching helplessly in the rafters than, by god, gwen can do it too. she's not going to watch helplessly as peter fights his battle on his horse, dick swinging, swords drawn. and she's not going to passively sit by as peter gets himself killed because actually, peter's not as smart as he thinks he is.

he's just stupid enough to take the hits and scrape himself off the pavement afterwards. gwen is the one with the plan. and if gwen weren't there, peter might not have been able to pull everything off. he probably would've eventually taken them down in the end, but he would've definitely taken more of a beating, and more property damage, and potentially, more civilian casualties. it was a good thing gwen was there. female excellence. it's not always about who can take a hit.

of course, in the end up - gwen winds up in peril, and no. she doesn't have powers that can save her. and, these men who try and do everything to protect her - they're fallible. but it was her choice. her choice to do the heroic thing, despite her fragility. her choice to step into the line of fire, without super-strength or spider-reflexes. and i think it's a poetic, heroic way to go.

one thing though, that i feel is mismanaged, almost infuriatingly so – is how underdelivered on gwen's death as a heroic gesture. in the end it becomes more about peter's guilt than it does about gwen's sacrifice. because they still wanted to have the iconic "fall" scene from the comics. so, in the end, gwen becomes powerless. she's mid fall. she can't do anything. she has to wait for peter to save her, in the end.

it's infuriating because captain stacy's death is unfalteringly heroic. he dies to save peter.

gwen puts herself in the line of fire to save peter. in the same way her father did. but she's robbed of the heroic framing her father gets because in the end, she has to be saved. in the end, it isn't framed like she saved peter. it's framed like peter failed to save her.

so we get a peter parker pity party instead of actually, what should be a beautiful, heroic send-off for gwen stacy, who became a hero despite every man trying to sideline her.

tl;dr tasm gwen deserved the same heroic framing her father got but hollywood messed up again because they don't know how to do female hero stories

[ahqkas]

“YOU HOLD ME WITHOUT HURTING ME — jason todd.

PAIRING! jason todd x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! you show jason it’s okay to bleed sometimes

WORD COUNT! 3.1k

WARNINGS / TAGS! wounds, mention of blood, fluff, reader’s hair mentioned, kissing + lmk if more found

NOTES! i tried to base this on that one tasm1 scene of peter and gwen where she patched him up , header below belongs to @/v6que !

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE SOFT HUM OF THE CITY OUTSIDE YOUR WINDOW HAD QUIETED TO A RARE WHISPER TONIGHT, a lull in Gotham’s usual chaos that felt like a blessing. Sirens, so common they were practically part of the soundtrack of your life, had faded into distant echoes, while the occasional honk of a car horn or the rush of tires on wet pavement seemed farther away than usual. It wasn’t complete silence—Gotham never truly slept—but it was as close as the city could get, a fleeting moment of stillness.

Inside, the warmth of your room cocooned you in a comforting contrast to the winter outside. The radiator hummed softly in the corner, its gentle heat mingling with the faint scent of cinnamon from the candle you’d lit earlier to help you focus. The flame flickered now, casting shadows that danced along the edges of your desk and walls, though the main light came from the golden glow of the lamp beside your bed. It bathed everything in a soft, inviting yellow light, the kind that made you want to sink deeper into your blankets and let the night carry you away.

But there was no time for that—not tonight. Your bed, usually your sanctuary, had become a battlefield. Textbooks, notebooks, flashcards, and stray pens were scattered like the aftermath of an academic storm. A bright pink highlighter sat capless somewhere near your elbow, while a pile of dog-eared textbooks loomed over you, threatening to topple if you so much as shifted the wrong way. You were surrounded on all sides by the evidence of your late-night cram session, the weight of the information you were trying to absorb pressing down on your already heavy eyelids.

The soft cotton of your oversized sweater brushed against your arms as you adjusted your position, tucking one leg beneath you and letting the other dangle off the edge of the bed. You propped your chin in your hand, squinting at the same sentence for what felt like the hundredth time. The words blurred and swam on the page, merging into an indecipherable wall of text as your brain fought against the exhaustion creeping in.

Your eyelids drooped again, the soft weight of exhaustion pulling them down as if gravity itself was conspiring against your efforts. You blinked hard, shaking your head slightly to snap yourself out of the haze creeping over your thoughts. The neat black ink on the page swam in and out of focus, words smudging together in a taunting blur. Focus, just focus. But no amount of repetition could make the phrase "mitochondria: powerhouse of the cell" feel less like a mantra from a far-off dream.

“Powerhouse,” you muttered again, your voice low and groggy, as if repeating it would anchor your wandering mind. “Powerhouse of . . . ugh.” You tossed the pen down onto the bedspread with a soft thud and buried your face in your hands, groaning into the quiet sanctuary of your room.

Your head sank forward, pressing against the cool surface of the open textbook. The faint scent of paper and ink tickled your nose as you let out a long, frustrated sigh. The night had started with so much ambition—a cup of coffee you swore would keep you awake, a meticulous plan to conquer this section of the syllabus—but now? Now, all you could think about was how soft your pillow looked, just a few inches away from your outstretched arm.

At least it was quiet tonight. Quiet enough that you could hear the rhythmic hum of your radiator and the occasional groan of the building settling. The sounds wrapped around you like a soothing melody, a rare lullaby in the city that never stopped moving. There was no blaring of police sirens, no shouting from the streets below, no low thrum of distant helicopters scanning the skies. It felt almost unnatural, this stillness, like the city was holding its breath.

But it was a welcome kind of calm. For once, there were no distractions, no sudden noises to pull your focus away from the monumental task at hand. You adjusted your position on the bed, the mattress creaking softly beneath your weight, and let yourself soak in the serenity. Just you, your books, and the glow of the lamplight. Quiet enough to think, to study, to—

A faint creak echoed outside your window, cutting through the silence like a needle dragging across a record. You froze, your hand halfway to turning the page, and lifted your head slowly, ears straining to catch any further sound. The fire escape of your apartment didn’t creak like that, but you knew the noise well. It was the sound of weight shifting against metal, deliberate and steady, and it was coming from outside.

Your pulse quickened, and you instinctively turned toward the window, where the dark glass reflected nothing but the warm glow of your room. Shadows danced faintly against the curtains, swaying with the breeze outside, but nothing seemed out of place. You frowned, brushing the thought away as paranoia. Maybe a branch had fallen or some stray cat had climbed up the fire escape again.

Jason wasn’t supposed to visit tonight. You’d both agreed on that earlier in the day, a mutual understanding that life—his, out on the snowy streets of Gotham, and yours, buried in exams and deadlines—was too demanding right now. He had patrol; you had textbooks. It was supposed to be a quiet night for both of you, separate but enduring, each fighting your battles alone.

So when you heard the soft scrape against your window, you froze, heart leaping into your throat. It wasn’t loud enough to be an accident, too deliberate to dismiss.

And there he was.

Jason stood there on your fire escape, the shadow of his imposing figure framed by the glow of your bedside lamp spilling through the curtains. Snow clung to the edges of his black and red suit, catching in the mess of his dark hair, the frosty crystals melting into droplets on his skin. His helmet was gone, his bare face illuminated in the low light, and for a fleeting second, you could almost convince yourself he looked shy, hesitant. But no—Jason Peter Todd didn’t do shy. Not really. He was here for a reason, even if it wasn’t the one he’d planned.

Your breath hitched as your gaze dipped lower. His jacket was torn along one sleeve, the fabric shredded, and beneath it, a wound marred the pale skin of his arm. Fresh blood seeped through, staining the snow-dusted fabric and dripping slowly down to the black of his gloves. The edges of the wound were jagged, raw, like it had been inflicted during a fight—one that he’d won, no doubt, but not without cost.

You were on your feet before you realized you’d moved, the fortress of textbooks and notes forgotten in an instant. “Jason,” you whispered, his name barely audible over the rush of your pulse. He wasn’t supposed to be here tonight, wasn’t supposed to need you like this, but here he was, leaning against the window frame as though standing upright was an effort.

Your fingers hovered near the lock on the window, hesitating for only a moment before you slid it open. The cold night air rushed in, biting against your skin and making you shiver, but Jason barely seemed to notice. He stepped inside with a deliberate slowness, his broad shoulders slumping slightly as he moved past you and into the warm glow of your room. His boots left faint, wet prints on the floor, the snow melting quickly in the heat.

“You’re bleeding,” you said, the words tumbling out instinctively, your voice tinged with worry. It felt stupid to say—it was obvious, painfully so—but seeing him like this had your mind scrambling to keep up. “You weren’t supposed to—what happened?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His lips quirked into a faint, almost sheepish smirk as he glanced down at the wound on his arm, as though it wasn’t worth mentioning. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, brushing it off in that gruff, nonchalant way of his. But the way his hand pressed against the injury, as though to stem the bleeding, told you otherwise.

You crossed your arms over your chest, fixing him with a look that you hoped conveyed both your concern and your impatience for the truth. Because nothing didn’t leave his suit ripped to shreds and blood dripping onto your floor.

“Jason, sit down,” exclaiming, your voice was firmer than you thought it would be. Worry surged through you as you closed the window behind him, sealing out the chill. The warmth of your room clashed against the icy snow clinging to his battered suit, the droplets melting and dripping onto the floor. You barely noticed. All you could see was the wound on his arm and the way his jaw tightened like he was trying to pretend it didn’t hurt.

“I told you, it’s fine,” he muttered, brushing past you with a tired shrug, his usual swagger diminished by the faint limp in his step. He leaned against the edge of your desk, scattering a couple of your neatly stacked flashcards with the motion. His gaze flicked to you then, softening just slightly, like he knew exactly what you were about to say and was already bracing himself for it.

“It’s not fine.” You stepped closer, reaching for his arm. He tried to pull it back, but you were quicker, your fingers ghosting over the torn fabric and the angry gash beneath. His muscles tensed at your touch, but he didn’t stop you. Not completely. “You’re bleeding all over my floor. At least let me—”

“Later,” he interrupted, his voice low and firm, but soft for you. “I’ll deal with it later. It’s just a scratch.”

Your eyes narrowed at his deflection. “Jason—”

“[Name],” he countered, your name falling from his lips like a warning and a plea all at once. He reached for you then, his uninjured hand brushing against your wrist and tugging you closer with gentleness that contrasted starkly with the blood dripping from his other arm.

The shift was dizzying, pulling you from worry to something softer and harder to resist. You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could get the words out, he leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm against your cheek, and the sharp edges of his usual bravado softened in the intimacy of the moment. “I didn’t come here so you could play nurse,” he murmured. “I just . . . needed to see you.”

Your heart clenched at the quiet honesty in his voice, but you refused to let him distract you so easily. “You needed stitches,” you shot back, trying to keep your resolve, though the way his thumb traced slow circles against your hip wasn’t helping. “Jason, you can’t just—”

Whatever you were about to say was lost as he kissed you. His lips captured yours with a sudden intensity that left no room for argument, silencing every worry you’d been about to voice. His fingers trailed from your neck up, landing on your cheek with a gentle caress, anchoring you to him, and for a moment, all you could do was melt into his touch. You felt his tension ease slightly, the weight of whatever he’d been carrying fading just enough as he pressed closer, as if kissing you was the only medicine he needed.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead still resting against yours, you opened your eyes to find his staring back, dark and unreadable but softened by something raw and unguarded. “See?” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “I’m fine.”

You sighed, shaking your head, your hands instinctively resting on his chest. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though your voice lacked any real bite.

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” Jason teased, that cocky grin returning even as the blood continued to drip from his arm.

You groaned, pushing lightly against his chest. “Fine. But I swear, if you pass out on my floor because you were too stubborn to let me help, I’m drawing on your face while you’re out.”

His laughter was quiet but genuine, and for a moment, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate. You didn’t give him the chance to argue this time. Grabbing the first-aid kit from your bedside table, you set it down on the desk beside him with a decisive clatter. Jason raised an eyebrow at your determination, the faint smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth, but you were too focused to care.

“Jacket off,” you mumbled, your tone leaving no room for debate.

He sighed, tilting his head back slightly like he was preparing for a lecture, but he complied without protest. With a grunt, he shrugged off the battered leather jacket, hissing slightly as the movement pulled at the torn edges of his suit. You caught the flash of discomfort in his expression, but he said nothing, tossing the bloodied jacket onto your chair.

“And the top half,” you added, gesturing toward the suit. Your voice was softer this time, less demanding but no less insistent. His hands hesitated briefly at the hem of the torn fabric before he pulled it up and over his head, revealing the pale, scarred skin of his chest and shoulders. The gash on his arm looked even worse without the fabric covering it, the torn skin deep and angry. Blood smeared across his bicep and dripped onto the floor, and you had to swallow the lump in your throat at the sight.

Jason glanced at you, the teasing light in his eyes dimmed now, replaced with something quieter, more vulnerable. “It’s really not that bad.”

“Jason, it’s bad,” you countered, shaking your head as you grabbed a clean cloth and antiseptic from the kit. He didn’t argue this time, watching you silently as you tended to his wound. The warmth of his skin under your fingers was a reminder of how human he was—how breakable, despite the armor he wrapped himself in every night.

The first dab of antiseptic against the wound made him flinch, a soft hiss escaping through his teeth. “Sorry,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

He shook his head. “Don’t be. Just do what you need to do.”

And so you did. Your hands moved with careful precision as you cleaned the wound, biting your lip in concentration. Jason stayed still, his muscles tensing under your touch but his expression relaxed—at least outwardly. You knew him well enough to see the subtle shifts, the way his eyes darted occasionally toward your face, as if he were studying you just as much as you were tending to him.

“Why didn’t you do this yourself?” you asked softly, breaking the silence. “You have supplies at your place. You didn’t have to come here like this.”

He was quiet for a moment, the question lingering between you like smoke. Then, finally, he sighed, his voice low and rough. “Didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

The simplicity of his words made you pause, your hands stilling briefly before resuming their work. You didn’t press him further; you didn’t need to. Jason never came out and said it, but moments like this told you everything you needed to know. Beneath the sharp wit, there was a part of him that needed the quiet comfort of your presence, even if he didn’t know how to ask for it outright.

“Well,” you said gently, wrapping a bandage around his arm with practiced care, “you’re not alone now.”

His gaze softened, green eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. He reached out with his uninjured hand, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the touch lingering longer than it needed to. “Thanks,” he whispered, the word heavy with meaning.

You smiled faintly, finishing the bandage and tying it off securely. “There,” you said, leaning back to admire your work. “Good as new. Or, at least, good enough to stop bleeding all over my room.”

Jason chuckled, the sound low and warm, and you felt the tension in your chest ease slightly. “You’re wasted on studying,” he teased and with that, his smirk returned. “You could make a pretty decent field medic.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you packed up the first-aid kit neatly. “Yeah, well, let’s not test that theory any further tonight, okay?”

As you turned to put the bloodied gauze and scattered supplies away, Jason’s hand wrapped gently around your wrist, stopping you mid-step. His grip wasn’t firm, but it was enough to tug you back toward him, enough to make your heart lurch at the vulnerability written across his face. You froze for a moment, your eyes meeting his. The usual sharpness in his gaze was softened now, dulled by exhaustion, pain, and something quieter—something unguarded. His bravado, the cocky smirk and dismissive sarcasm that so often served as his shield, was gone. He looked at you like he was searching for something, something only you could give.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper, but steady enough to hit you square in the chest. “Thanks. For . . . this. For being here.”

The words felt heavy, like they carried more weight than just tonight. They weren’t just gratitude for the bandages or the antiseptic or the quiet space you’d made for him in your small room. It was more than that. It was for the safety, the warmth, the acceptance you gave him so freely, no matter how broken or battered he was when he came through your window.

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you just looked at him, your throat tightening at the raw honesty in his eyes. “Jay,” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly. You didn’t know what to say—didn’t know how to put into words how much it meant to you that he was here, that he trusted you enough to let his walls down like this.

Instead, you slid your hand over his, the one still wrapped around your wrist, and gave it a gentle squeeze. You leaned down slowly, your fingers brushing against the edge of his jaw as you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. His skin was warm beneath your lips, and you lingered there for a second longer than you meant to, closing your eyes as a quiet promise settled in the space between you.

“Always,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with every ounce of certainty you had.

When you pulled back, his eyes followed you, still searching, still vulnerable. His hand shifted slightly, his thumb brushing lightly against your pulse point like he was grounding himself in the feel of you. For a man who was usually so composed, so quick to hide behind sarcasm, he looked achingly human in that moment—like he wasn’t Red Hood, wasn’t Gotham’s vengeance, but just a man who needed someone to remind him it was okay to bleed sometimes.

ADDITIONAL NOTE! if you like my work , please consider reblogging and / or commenting . thank you if you do 🤍

[snapscube]

So you mentioned the Amazing Spider-man movies, what are your thoughts on them? For me; I was pleasantly surprised by 1 AND 2. Like 2 is bad, real bad, but the jokes were legit, Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone are just...an amazing on screen couple and until the transformation Harry is a really fun villain....just sucks that most of the movie is exposition about peoples relationships to one another or experiments done mostly off screen.

TASM1 is perfectly serviceable as a standalone project and was definitely not the worst jumping off point, but it struggles to really properly understand Spider-Man/Peter as a personality. Peter absolutely doesn't have to be a goody two-shoes loser, all of the best adaptations of Peter imo can have some serious attitude and grit to their persona, but TASM1 kinda over-corrects on the Tobey Maguire "shy nerd" angle by making Spidey a bit too much of a dick. I remember the movie getting a lot of praise for finally making Spider-Man funny and quippy, praise I similarly gave at the time, but it really... doesn't do that nearly as much as ppl gave it credit for??? There's like ONE scene where Spider-Man is kinda jokey with someone he suspects to be Ben's killer, but that scene kinda stinks because he's not quipping as much as he's like actively cruel lmao. Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone had great chemistry though and you can tell Marc Webb knew his stuff when it came to directing that kind of romantic tension, seeing as how his previous project was 500 Days of Summer. All-in-all, it's a Fine movie but it's not a fantastic adaptation of the things I personally like about Spider-Man.

TASM2 is so much more intriguing to me to watch and to talk about. It's genuinely baffling how that movie ended up like it did, but in a way that almost anyone could have predicted. That movie STINKS. It's really really bad. But it also has kind of the opposite problem to TASM1 in that... TASM1 is a good movie that doesn't properly showcase the character of Spider-Man, whereas TASM2 is a garbage movie that features some of the best live action Spider-Man scenes/setpieces we had seen and would ever see to this day. It's sincerely tragic how many great INDIVIDUAL MOMENTS are in that movie, and how loosely connected they are by some monumentally stupid studio meddling. That movie has everything going in its favor with Andrew Garfield in the lead, the best live action Spider-Man suit to this day, the most thrilling and well rendered swinging sequences put to film, and the occasional glimpse of a true Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man that is down on the ground connecting with and watching over not just the city itself but the people within it. There's a montage in the middle of the movie that features Spider-Man on his daily patrol and he comes across as just so PRESENT and on the same level as the people he protects, meanwhile in the audio track you hear newscasters and interviews fiercely debating whether or not what he does is actually worthwhile. And that shit HITS. But unfortunately that kind of stuff is still too rare and it far overshadowed by Sony desperately trying to make a Spidey Cinematic Universe without earning it. Ultimately they had all of the pieces to make a truly definitive adaptation of Spidey that I feel like almost anyone could get behind, but they just... couldn't. Even Spider-Man PS4, commonly lauded as one of the most definitive Spidey stories of all time, uses SO MUCH of the same DNA of the Amazing Spider-Man films, but the difference is that it had the space to be only exactly what it needed to be. Nothing more, nothing less. Anyway I could talk more about this for sure but I'm looking at the length of this write-up and wincing already LOL.

[sincericida]

something about andrew in tasm1.. poster boy for all lover boys

Yeah, TASM 1 Peter is the most of all delicate flowers.

[rhiannswork]

s. reid!tasm

warnings: blood, lowercase intended (srry lolz), this is literally that one scene from tasm1 with a lil twist, fluffy, you're both seniors in hs, teeeeny tiny angst and umm smoochy smooch.

an: i’m so sorry this is so bad :’(

you were overwhelmed by the workload assigned by your school, having heard that senior year can be both the best and worst year of one's school life. your papers, markers, and other school items were scattered across the floor as you tried to keep up. eventually, you sat in silence, but the sounds around you became overstimulating, leading you to turn everything off in frustration.

despite your efforts, you found yourself still stuck on the same question as before, and the situation wasn't improving. as you struggled to concentrate, you began to hear thudding sounds, which made you question your sanity.

thud, thud, thud.

"the hell?" you exclaimed, looking around to locate the source of the constant thudding. your gaze fell to the ground, revealing the shadow of a person. "spence," you chuckled, recognizing the figure.

you got up from your spot and went to open the window. you couldn't fathom how someone as scrawny as spencer could manage to climb up to the twentieth floor using the fire escape. "hey... spencer?" you called out, feeling a bit confused.

as you looked closer, you noticed that spencer was in an unusual state of disarray. his hair was unkempt, his face was dirty, and most concerning of all, three scars ran down his chest.

"what happened to you?" you asked, feeling a mix of worry and confusion. "— and why are you wearing a spider-man costume?" you added, trying to make sense of the situation.

"i’m just a really big fan," spencer joked as he crawled through the window and tossed his bag to the corner of your room. "are you now?" you giggled, amused by his enthusiastic lie. you slammed the window shut, making sure it was secure.

"we have to do something about this, spence. sit on my bed," you said, pointing to the bed. you watched as spencer slowly made his way over to the bed.

"it doesn't hurt... it'll heal by the morning," spencer muttered before groaning his way onto the bed. “i don’t care. you could still get infected. i’ll be back.” you sped out of your room and ran to your bathroom.

you quickly scanned through your sink cabinet for rubbing alcohol and bandages, finding what you needed before snatching a washcloth from the closet and walking back to your bedroom.

you were taken aback to see that reid had already removed his shirt, preparing himself for the special care that you were about to provide.

"eager, are we?" you teased, walking over to the edge of the bed and placing the materials beside spencer. "i just don't want it to burn," he shook his head. "just don't focus on it. focus on me," you smiled.

you snatched the bottle of rubbing alcohol, opened the bottle and began to pour the liquid on the towel. “alright, look at me,” you slowly crept the towel towards his wounds. “wait! you’re not supposed to put rubbing alcohol on a wound, it damages the tissue.” you ignored his protest and put the towel on the small scratch first.

spencer quickly sucked air through the cracks of his teeth, clearly struggling to keep his mind off the burns. "i-i don't know. i didn't know how to tell you," he admitted, looking down at your hands. sensing his unease, your other hand reached over to lift his chin and bring his head back up. "did you want me to find out?" you asked, your eyes locking with his.

“i don’t know…” you could see his once pale cheeks become rosy. “mm… considering i’m your girlfriend, don’t you think i should know?” you continued to disinfect his scars. “i didn’t want you to get hurt.”

"you were hurting me either way. you've cancelled every date in the past month, spencer," you said firmly, as you reached for the water bottle that sat on your bed. opening it up, you poured water onto the towel and began to dab at his wounds, hoping to remove any debris from the open scars.

"i'll make it up to you," spencer said, his eyes glistening in the moonlight that streamed through your window. "i bet you will~” you hummed, a smile playing at your lips as you finished cleansing his wounds.

"who did this to you? or what did this to you?" you asked, folding the slightly bloody towel and placing it on the nightstand near your bed. "a giant lizard... that happens to be your boss at oscorp," spencer replied nonchalantly.

as you twisted the neosporin cap, you froze upon hearing spencer's answer. your head slowly turned up to meet his eyes. "i'm not... i'm not gonna ask," you said, shaking your head in disbelief. you then proceeded to apply the ointment around the gashes.

"sit up so i can wrap this around your body," you instructed as you pulled spencer's arm to raise him off the headboard. you then got off the bed, along with spencer, and grabbed the bandage wrap.

as you pulled the end of the adhesive bandage and began to wrap it around spencer's torso, you couldn't help but tease him, "i guess when you become spider-man, you get bulkier, huh?" you giggled as your arms wrapped around him, passing the roll into your other hand.

“i’ve been swinging everywhere, i guess that’s a form of working out.” he chuckled. after carefully wrapping his body, you quickly grabbed the loose end of the bandage roll and securely tucked it under a layer of bandage.

"i guess, i'll see you tomorrow," you smiled, gazing into his gentle, dilated brown eyes. "i can't stay?" he pouted. "absolutely not! my dad would lose it if he found you in my room," you replied firmly. picking up an oversized mötley crüe shirt from the floor, you tossed it to reid. "i think i could handle that," he said, grinning.

"we're not gonna test that theory. seriously, it's really late and you need to rest, so swing home and go to bed." you pushed him closer to the window. "you want me to swing home? when i need to rest?" he giggled as he grabbed his backpack. "you can handle it." you teased. "my arms are soooo soreeee." he pulled the t-shirt over his body and threw his bookbag over his shoulder.

his poked-out lip had almost made you regret kicking him out, the way his eyelids hung low. before you knew it, the space between you and spencer was becoming smaller. your breath hitched before your lips connected.

his lips were in harmony as your lips met like a missing puzzle piece finally found. your kisses danced in perfect rhythm as if they were made for each other. your mind was lost in a fog of thoughts, overcome by the attentiveness of the moment.

he pulled away, your eyes were still closed as the feeling lingered. you tucked your lips in as a soft moan left them.

"goodnight bug boy."

[astrid-goes-for-a-spin]

The “Andrew Garfield was too hot to play Peter Parker and make us believe he was bullied” discourse is going around twitter again and every time I see it, flames on the side of my face

1) TASM1 is the only movie adaptation that dares to make Peter an asshole. Comics Peter isn’t “bullied” by his peers, he thinks he’s better than them and is constantly being mean and yet the girls are still?? Into that??

2) being attractive doesn’t mean people will like you 😭 lots of ppl read TASM Peter as autistic and kids always know even if we don’t yet, kids have like a special kill for choosing neuroqueer ppl to bully, everything in TASM1 social scene makes sense to me

[ddejavvu]

i love the idea of peter forgetting his strength all the time like you’re changing the living room furniture around and he goes “babe can you help me with the couch?”

“so spider man can lift cars and trains and hold ferries together but he can’t move a couch?”

“oh yeah”

join headcanon day!

NO but accidents happen all the time!!! like in TASM1 where he slams the door and it shatters, and he looks back like 😦 but still tries to be angry... he opens the fridge and yanks the door right off of its hinges.. he opens the blinds but yanks the cord too strong and they all unravel, just a pile of slats on the floor at his feet and a super long string in his hand. the amount of home repairs you need after peter forgets he's literally spiderman is so terrible </3

[oliveroctavius]

If it's okay to ask, I'm curious what your initial thoughts are on the potential plot for the Insomniac Spidey sequel game! I'm still sorting my thoughts, but one of the things that definitely crossed my mind was how the story trailer reminded me of both TASM films (eg. terminally ill Harry as a major villain, the main villain plot being forcibly 'healing' the world, and we know from the MM post-credits scene that Connors is behind Harry's treatment with the symbiote, etc.), and while the main issue with the eugenics stuff in the TASM films is how it was framed as being both real and good and neither Peter nor the narrative ever challenges it, rather than just the villains being villainous and it could go differently here, I'm really not sure how optimistic to be at this point in speculation - but it's also not an aspect of the trailer I've seen much discussion on either.

having gone over the original game again, (geez I forgot how hard they went on the Spider-Cop bit) I still don't feel as pessimistic on this plot point as others seem to be... yet.

MSM1 had parallels to TASM1 too, without fumbling the ball as hard. Main villain starts as an ally researching limb replacement, partially for themselves; plot turning point is a Oscorp gene-cure-mist being released into the city with terrible results. It helps that Insomniac's medical science is just 50% less bullshit. Devil's Breath names a real genome editing tech (CRISPR by viral vector) and genetic diseases that aren't just disabling, but fatal (cystic fibrosis, Huntington's) as the intended target. There's no TASM-esque twist where victims with improperly edited genes become a ''devolved'' ''lower lifeform'' or turn murderous. They just get sick.

Otto doesn't consider using Devil's Breath on himself. His condition isn't even genetic. Dumb to have to point that out, but TASM Curt compares limb loss to agonizing death by disease (??) and proposes his amputation be "fixed" with genetic modification (???) while Otto's focus is on (embellished) mobility aids. The idea that brain damage from the arms made Otto evil is brought up and then refuted. Martin and Otto have social + financial motivations which overlap with but aren't fully defined by disability. They're well-intentioned extremists: they want to take down a crooked capitalist who's politically untouchable... time to poison random civilians!

Going by these trends: I expect Harry to have a fairly realistic diagnosis and to use real assistive aids alongside any sci-fi treatments (he has a cane for a second in the trailer). I expect that if he did inherit his condition it was from his mother, and the only person who might be weird about that is Norman. Insomniac Harry's previous vision for "healing the world" has been air and water quality, green energy, and wildlife health. If this changes, I expect a more nuanced explanation than "idk he's sick and crazy now".

Will I actually like it? Who knows! (Like MJ was fine. but she's not My MJ.) I'm still crossing my fingers for sentient alien Venom because I think it would make everything more interesting to have Venom the character rather than just the plot device.

I'm truly more worried for Curt--most of the Insomniac plotlines are pulled from modern comics. (For the love of god please let's not do Shed.) But comics Devil's Breath was a poison that killed only certain genetic lineages, and someone made the call to avoid that minefield of weird ideas. So. Hope remains that this will not be the TASM movies' kind of freakshow.