toodleloos

[toodleloos]

| short story about my spidersona, sammy, and his gwen stacy variant. was super bored lol.

| tw : death , blood .

| 9 pm. I had been patrolling for a few minutes now, swinging from building to building. checking alleys. making sure the big apple was safe and sound. although there was always something happening. i didn’t see anything big. sighing as i sat down on the ledge of a rooftop.

CRASH!

I was jumped out of my thoughts, glancing down at the alley right next to me. was someone in there? maybe it was just an animal. either way, i got up and used my webs to get to the ground. walking into the dark hall that could have anything in it. I heard a soft grunt come from behind the trashcans.

I pulled my mask over my face, the holographic orange of my suit giving me enough light to see through the darkness.

“hello?”

i stepped carefully , then saw someone lying on the floor. Not someone, a certain villain. X. There were rips in his suit, scratches. deep cuts. blood gushing out, staining the fabric. he looked weak. Despite my hatred, i felt worried.

“holy shit.” I muttered, quickly going over and sitting down next to him. putting my hand on his neck to check his pulse.

shallow, weak.

he coughed, reaching his hand out. like he wanted me to take it. i hesitated, but i took it into mine. his blood staining my gloves. i didn’t know why i didn’t just call the police right then and there. lock this guy up. it just felt.

different.

he finally spoke, his voice rough and hoarse. nothing like how it usually was.

“its fine. im- “ he was interrupted by a cough,

“im fine.”

“you’re not fine! you’re losing blood.”

“i’ve gotten worse injuries.”

“how did this even happen.”

“just got into a wrong fight.” he coughed again, i could tell it was hard for him to breathe under his mask. i reached out to take his mask off. but his hand stopped mine.

“no.”

i looked confused. no?

“what?”

he was silent for a moment. i could hear his shallow breathing.

“just.. no.”

“you need fresh air.”

he cut me off. sounding serious.

“sam.”

“please.”

I was about to speak again, but i froze. how did he know my name? my grip on his hand loosened slightly. matter of fact. only one person called me sam.

and suddenly it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“how do you..”

I shook off his hand, pulling his mask up and off. and it all made sense. the nights elias had stayed out for so late, the scars.

was everything a lie?

“sammy, baby. i’m sorry.” elias mumbled. his voice shaky with pain in it. I didn’t know what to say. My gaze ran over his wounds, his unrepairable wounds.

i felt tears in my eyes, was this real life? i was about to speak. but he placed his hand on my cheek, lifting my mask up lazily. my lips parted slightly, a tear fell down my face.

“how long?” i muttered.

“a year or two.”

“why did you.. how.” I let out a frustrated groan.

“why are you such an idiot?!”

he chuckled, coughing halfway through it. blood trickling down to his chin. i frowned. he took a few shallow breaths, gazing up at me with his brown eyes that i loved so much.

they looked dull.

A soft sob left my lips. he sat up weakly, grunting softly. shushing me. my shaky hand reached into my pocket, taking out my phone. blood smeared slightly on the screen. and i blinked back my tears. I had to help him. i had to get him help. i was about to dial the numbers, but he gently took my phone. and set it down.

“it’s too late.”

“no.” i cried.

“yes.” he stroked my dirty blonde hair, he always said he loved it. the way it was soft, the color of it. everything. how it reminded him of the sand of the beaches in his hometown, in italy.

“listen to me. i’m going to die.”

“No you’re not. not if i call for help.”

“samuel.” he said softly, i shut up. looking at him.

“no matter what, im losing too much .. blood. i know you want to play hero. like you always .. do.” he kept pausing in between his words to breathe, and my heart felt like it was going to explode.

“i can’t do it without you.” i mumbled.

“you can.. and you will. i did this to myself.”

“i can’t.” i tried to plead with him, but nothing worked.

“you’re strong. i know .. you can.”

he let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes. i knew he was in pain. and i wish i could take it all away.

“you can’t die. please. not like this.”

“baby, it’s my time and you know it. there’s no saving me.”

“i don’t want my last moments in a stupid.. room. full of chemicals. hooked up to a machine.. i want it with you.”

“i hate you.” i sniffled, he gently wiped my tears away.

“i hate you so much Eli.” a sob left my lips, he took my hand and squeezed it. it wasn’t very hard, though i know he was using all his strength.

“i love you. okay? don’t ever.. forget that.”

i could see he was losing consciousness. and i panicked.

“no.” “no, no, no.” i placed my hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes . they were half lidded. shallow breaths leaving his lips.

“stay with me elias, please. you can’t leave me.”

a tear fell down his cheek, he weakly leaned forward. placing a gentle kiss on my lips. i leaned into it, wanting to hold it forever. and ever. and ever. his grip on my hand loosened.

pulling away from me. he gave a weak smile. i pulled him into a hug, burying my face into his shoulder. he wrapped his arms around me. as tight as he could.

we stayed like that for a while. i don’t remember the amount of times i muttered , ‘i love you.’

i felt his arms loosen. and i couldn’t feel his heartbeat against mine anymore. and i let go. sobbing uncontrollably. was this even actually happening? i felt so dizzy. dizzy from the headache i had from the robbery i had to save earlier, dizzy from how hungry i was, dizzy from the amount of tears that ran down my face.

No matter what, i never let go of him. Never. I don’t know how much time passed. but i felt a hand on my shoulder, it made me jump. but i didn’t look up.

A gruff voice spoke from behind me, the man’s grip on my shoulder tightened.

“Hey, i know you’re upset. but you have to get up.”

i didn’t respond, i was silent. I couldn’t cry anymore. there were no more tears left to.

“Are you listening to me?”

He shook my shoulder, then groaned.

“Díos mio.”

He crouched down next to me, forcefully pulling me away from Elias. I struggled against him. watching how Eliass’s body fell with a horrified look. he put his hands on my blood stained cheeks, pulling my gaze away.

“hey, hey, don’t look at him.”

I swallowed harshly, trying to move my head away. but the man was stronger than me.

“Stop it.” He grunted out.

My eyes ran over his appearance. He looked.. like a hero? of some sort. there was a red spider on his suit. his suit some sort of dark blue, glowing red features.

I spoke my first words in hours.

“who are you?”

His head turned towards me, he pressed some things on his watch thingy. it looked cool. and his mask came off. like a hologram. he had tan skin, dark brown slicked back hair. a cold look in his red-ish eyes.

“Miguel O’hara.”

i saw fangs in his mouth as he spoke, freaky.

“im from another dimension.

and i’d like to recruit you to my team.”

——————————————————————————

| UGHHHHHH THEY DESERVED SM BETTER BUT I HAD TO DO IT .

[toodleloos]

[toodleloos]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞.

𖦹 ——— 𒊹︎ 𒊹︎ 𒊹︎ 𒊹︎ 𒊹︎ 𒊹︎ ——— 𖦹

“what’s your favorite color?“

I say black.

But they say it’s a shade.

a shade? but throughout my life i was told it was color.

did they lie?

my head hurts.

is it a shade or a color?

my thoughts feel all jumbled.

what is a shade.

what even is a color?!

what if black wanted to be a color?

would you deny it?

i feel like black sometimes.

im a color. I know it. but they swear,

IM A SHADE.

even if i was a shade, can’t i be a color? a normal color?

maybe it’d be too hard. no one would understand.

so instead of black,

I say red.

that’s what everyone around me says.

Because its a color.

𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗲. ​

𖦹 ——— 𒊹︎ 𒊹︎ 𒊹︎ 𒊹︎ 𒊹︎ 𒊹︎ ——— 𖦹

[toodleloos]

me : “ im gonna write something today!! ”

writers block :

[toodleloos]

The last fictional character in your camera roll is who you marry:

[toodleloos]

Please help Rawan, Yemna, and their family! They are still far from their goal of kr319,315 SEK (~$30,000) to evacuate from Gaza; they have currently raised kr97,184 SEK / kr319,315. However, with your help we can change that - every dollar counts no matter how little!!! Together, we can all help the Abudaya family!!

🌟 This campaign has been verified by a Palestinian-led collective - follow them @/palestineasdiqa on IG!!

Please donate and share widely!!!

This campaign is also a fundraiser where your donations can get you some free art from the talented group at Artists 4 Gaza!! Check out artaction4gaza.carrd.co for more info!

[template for the secondary graphic made by the amazing @starelegy_ ]

🇵🇸

[toodleloos]

˚₊‧꒰ა𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓵𝔂𝔀𝓸𝓸𝓭໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[toodleloos]

Megan Thee Stallion in 'Mamushi' music video // Crocodiles hunting

[toodleloos]

“do I look different?”

————————- ꧁✩✬✩✬꧂ -————————

A question ive heard from almost everyone ive known. Including myself. They look in a mirror, dreading the way they look. The way they sound. The way they act.

But how could a kid possibly hate how they look?

“I’m too skinny. im too fat. I wish I was brunette. Or maybe blond. I wish I had curls like her, I wish my hair was straighter than a ruler.”

“If I throw myself on a field, waving my abs around. Am I macho? Or cool? Call a gay kid a slur? Maybe it’ll hide my obvious interest in men.”

Highschoolers are fake. The hallways? Filled with drama, and chaos. The moment I turned 13 I knew my life was over. I had to care about being cool, or liking this or liking that or liking her. Sometimes my head hurts because he’s so handsome, and she’s so gorgeous.

“Just don’t be gay. That’s weird.”

I’m weird.

Change your hair. Fix your attitude. Why do you dress like that? Your stupid. Your fat. No, you’re skinny. Oh fuck, now you’re fat and stupid!

But.

Have you eaten lately?

“You look different now.”

“You’re different.”

I know im different. You remind me. They remind me.

I look around at my classmates. Blonde, brunette, black, white, tan. Girls, boys, trans guys and girls.

Why the fuck does it matter if she screwed that guy? Or if he lost his virginity. Why does it matter if that girl wants to be a guy? Or that guy wants to be a girl?

There is so much hate.

We’re only kids. we can’t be kids forever. Don’t you listen to your parents? Enjoy your youth. Don’t cause drama. You say you listen, yet there are still huge numbers in suicide cases for teenagers. And what are the teachers doing? The parents? Adults that are supposed to protect us from this.

Keep us safe.

“I can’t stop crying. I’m so hungry but mom says I’ll be skinny soon.”

Why is it that we revolve everything around weight? Let me give you an example. A mother has twins. They’re healthy. One just.. puts on a little more weight. Instead of helping, do you know what her mother says?

“You’re so fat.”

And it starts. The disorder. Yes, she loses weight. Becomes “popular” with the girls and the jocks and she’s finally happy?

Throwing up your food makes you happy?

You can have so much sex. Drink so much booze. Smoke a shit ton of weed. But let’s face the facts.

we’re just kids and the world is laughing at us.

Don’t you remember? Climbing up on daddy’s lap, laughing, unaware of the cruel ass world. But— even then. We were so mean.

“I know my dad, do you?”

“My mom said your dad cheated on your mom and left. Hah! So funny!”

“My mom and dad said they loved eachother, so why do they fight?”

“My dad hit me last night. He said it was an accident. He smelled funny.”

“My mom looks at me weird after dad left.”

“I don’t see my parents much.”

I don’t think they notice, they shape our lives. They just like to criticize and criticize. And when we break. They yell at us and break us down. Like we’re the ones in the wrong.

“Depression isn’t real.”

“Teenagers are so exhausting.”

“So dramatic.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

To them, we are nothing if we complain. If we feel pain, or cry, or hurt. We’re dramatic because we never went through their struggle. Oh no. It’s not like we’re a whole new generation. No! We’re just dumb kids.

I don’t blame them. Their parents weren’t exactly uh.. stable. So they grow around this hate, pass that hate to us. And they wonder why we hate coming home. Why we HATE hearing,

“oh your just like your dad! You look so much like your mom!”

I spend hours. Changing myself. Taking nice pictures.

hey. I think I like this guy.

I should totally go for it, right?

They date. Everything was bliss. Then a random text.

“Hey, can you send?”

What? Send what?

“Nudes. Duh.”

I’ve never done that. she says.

“Don’t be a fucking baby.”

I’m with family.

“Just go in your bathroom.”

she did it of course. We all want validation. We crave it. Even if it will kill us. I don’t get the appeal.

I don’t get the appeal of being an asshole. Forcing yourself onto people, forcing them to vape or send weird pictures or.. kill themselves. Just don’t be a dick!

Be a kid.

I’m tired of the voices screaming at me, saying I suck. I’m an idiot.

I know!

They call me names, I go home and.. the feeling swallows me up. It’s the same thing over and over again. The same cycle. I’m tired of it! I want to be different! I want to look different.

why can’t I be DIFFERENT?!

I feel panic swallow me whole. The only thing I can hear is my ac wind blowing. Everything else is gone. And im.. okay.

Moral of the story? Be kind.

Oh! One last thing. I just need an opinion.

“Do I look different?”

————————- ꧁✩✬✩✬꧂ -————————

[toodleloos]

📚 — 𝐧𝐞𝐰.

“ 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙬.

𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙙𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙄 𝙨𝙖𝙬.

𝙄 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮’𝙙 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝.

𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙮.

𝘾𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙙.

𝙄 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙, 𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙨 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣.

𝙄 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙙— 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙙— 𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨.

𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨.

𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙨.

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙖𝙡𝙜𝙚𝙗𝙧𝙖 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙬.

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙯𝙯𝙮, 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙛𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨.

𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚.

𝘾𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙜𝙚𝙗𝙧𝙖.

𝙄 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙙 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙚𝙩, 𝘿𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙧.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙,

𝙄 𝙨𝙖𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣.

𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙪��. 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙖 𝙣𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧— 𝙖 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧.

𝙜𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢.

𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙜𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙚𝙨

𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚. ”