she/him/them bi. +21. obsessed with my OCs. currently living for Across the Spider Verse, TOTK, D&D PCs and BG3 call me whatever u like but do call me đ€
lovecraft mfs be like "I have witnessed horrors beyond comprehension" and then proceed to meticulously describe the most goofy ass being with googly eyes that can only say "ghhhhhhabbhhhhbb" out loud and whistle before it pisses itself
just pondering about the fact that my hyperfixations used to be something to keep me alive and sane, and now they give me something else too, now they fuel my creativity, make me active. is this a superpower
Sneak peak (+ full first chapter) of the Miguel O'hara/OC fanfic I am currently writing. Feel free to drop a visit on AO3, if it's more comfy to you. I don't think I will upload the whole text on here, though.
The low hum of a certain anomaly echoes across universes. Spider man 2099 undertakes an intricate quest of seek-and-capture to maintain the order he has so carefully kept through the years. Only one thing seems to truly stand between him and this shrouded mystery: vibrations on the spiderweb, echoes of things past.
He would not believe his eyes when he found out which universe, which alternate version of the Earth, might harbor this anomaly. Earth-1312; a pit ogf crime and despair, once inhabited by Spider Moon âhighly useful ally in the past, whose passing brought upon as much chaos to her universe as one would imagine. A remnant of her prevails, though: the ABC, the name of both a complex machinery of hacking, and the only person capable of accessing it.
There is much path yet to tread on in the walk of acceptance. Is life, truly, just a losing game? Perhaps two heads really are better than one, and adding up their answers to that question might turn the path the less rocky. You know, if they can actually put their differences behind themselves.
Chapter 1. Dynasties & Dystopia
It had been days since Miguel had endured such a headache.
New kid had just joined them- Gwen was her name. He tried to remain adamant about not letting her in the team, but Jessica always had a way to somehow be right. The way her eyes had pierced his when asking âno, demanding him that they took that child in⊠it would have scarred him if he had said no.
The kid had been good at adapting, too. Maybe it came with the mask. It was one of the things that brought them all together, made them who they were.
But Hobie had taken it to himself to teach her everything she needed to know. It should have been fine, even useful, to remove the burden from someone else, from Miguel himself⊠but as of now, they had kept talking, and talking, and TALKING non-stop for a whole five hours. He was starting to consider whether he should have prevented these headaches by letting Jessica obliterate him with her stupid determination. His eye twitched.
â⊠wait until you see the catâ, Hobie was saying to a very impressed Gwen.
âYou have a CAT in here?!â
âUh⊠we donât have him, heâs one of us.â
âHowâs that wavelength report coming, Margo?â. Miguel tried to leave their voices behind as he paced about the gigantic room that Margo often projected her image in. She was half here, half there (as usual), shifting around her place and somehow able to check several screens at once. Sometimes, Miguel wondered if she was doing several things at the same time, things that wouldnât come as handy⊠maybe she played videogames, or checked her socials. But she was as efficient as can be, anyway.
âItâs coming out fine, âbossâ. Donât worryâ. She adjusted her glasses, Miguel sighing at her little remark. His head was starting to weigh way more than he could handle.
âWhat do you MEAN you are a drummer?!â, Hobie yelled in the background, pecking at any little peace of mind he could have left. âGet out of it!â
âYeah, like⊠I mean, I was in a band until very recently, but⊠seeing as things have come about, maybe Iâm not a drummer anymore.â
âShut uuuupâ, he waved his hand dismissively before putting it over her shoulder. âYou are a drummer, and maybe you can have a band. See, IâŠâ
âWhatâs going on?â. Drewâs voice felt like a well of fresh water to him. Maybe they would listen to her, maybe she could bring some order in along with herself.
âBoss asked me to deliver a wavelength report heâs been fussy about over the weekend, or else I shall be firedâ, Margo answered before Miguel took the air necessary to respond. Instead, he sighed all of it out once again. Why did they always have to be so quippy?
âItâs about this anomaly, seeâ he finally got to answer.
âPotential anomaly.â
âYes, sure. Potential. It is not quite there, yet. But still, we need to trace it back as precisely as possible.â
âI seeâ. Jessica seemed to ponder as she stared at one of the screens Margo had turned over for them to see. âIt is quite small. What do you think it is?â
âWe donât know for sure. Could be a little trinket that got teleported out of its own dimension, could be a critterâŠâ. He traced off, lost in thought.
âDoesnât seem like something scary, yetâ. Their conversation had somehow attracted Hobie and Gwen in, and he was looking at the screen, too, his hands in his spiked vestâs pockets.
âExactlyâ, Miguel murmured back. âYet.â
âKa-ching! Lyla has found its source!â
Miguel furrowed his brow. âLyla was helping you?â
âI mean, duh. How else do you expect me to do this so quick, without a NASA computer? Sheâs not your friend only.â
âSorry, Miguelâ Lyla barged in with the tone and face of someone who is definitely not sorry. âHad to help outâ.
âBut youâve got to see this. Look where itâs coming from⊠or, more exactly, where it ends up when it starts to fade away.â
They all looked expectantly, Miguel resting his hands on the desk to come closer. The multi-dimensional screen that displayed a somewhat simplified layout of all the multiverses connecting together pointed at a particular universe he didnât expect to ever hear of again. The yellow-orange dot blinked incessantly, and he could not help compare it with a ticking bomb.
âNoâ, he simply said.
âOh, yesâ, Hobie seemed amused âand Gwen too, by extension, even if not in the know. âWe coming back.â
âNo! You donât even know if the anomaly is set anywhere nearby her.â
âI think it isâŠâ, Margo corrected him. âSee? It could be anyplace in a 15 kilometer radius, but itâs still a pretty narrowed down window from a whole planet.â
It would have been impossible to deny it. The second map they saw, set in two dimensions from an aerial point of view, enclosed a huge chunk of a New York City he knew too much of. Any data they had access to could not truly encompass what one felt there: his memories of visiting were of dark, neon lit images that went past too fast. Individuals looking lost at any given time in any given place. A city on the verge of collapse, nearly in shambles, its concrete and metal skeleton refusing to fully fall off.
âThere is no way you guys are going there againâ. Miguel got back up and extended both his arms in desperation. âLast time was a HUGE mess.â
âBut we did fine. Stopped the bad guy, helped them outâ. Hobieâs brow lowered in defiance.
âWho are we talking about?â Gwen wanted to know.
âOhâ, Drew breathed in deeply, as if she didnât know where to start. âThereâs this asset-â
âShe is not an assetâ, Miguel remarked, trying not to lose his temper. Despite the blood pumping upward through the sides of his forehead, he was still trying to be reasonable. âLast time⊠maybe we did fine, and helped her out, but she is not that trustworthy.â
âWowâ, Jess crossed her arms and nodded slightly. âLow blow.â
âYou know I do not mean it like thatâ. His gaze pierced hers this time. âYou know what I mean. Sheâs too erratic; the choices she makes and the paths she goes down to get her way⊠it is too unpredictable.â
Everyone else seemed thrilled to see where this was going. Margo had kept surprisingly quiet ever since she showed them the map, Hobie maintained his colder façade, and Gwen was visibly trying to connect the dots right there and then.
âAll rightâ, Jessica answered, her chin still held up high. âStill, this potential anomaly of yours may be a ticking bomb, waiting to blow up at the worst timeâ. Was she capable of thought reading? âItâs unlike you to risk it this much over a petty argument.â
Miguel held her gaze for a few seconds before turning back, running his hand through his hair to get it away from his face. Always. She had a way.
âFineâ, he gave in after what felt like a whole minute. âWe can contact her. BUTâ he added quickly to curb Hobieâs enthusiasm, âI will be the one to make contact.â
Hobieâs mouth tensed for a moment. âBlokeâs got the bottle, doesnât heâ, he just said, one of his cockney idioms only he could understand there, but his expression was returning back to normal. âCanât have us having funâ. His voice was more akin to his usual chill-and-witty attitude, already. The bomb had been defused, and Miguel had been the one to manage it all in order to keep his most trouble-seeking teammates at bay⊠as he often was.
Only thing was, he was now supposed to go there and make contact. The thought irked him: he could already feel the headache coming back strong as soon as he got there and spoke to her. Earth-1312âs ABC. She had been unbearable once.
All of the others (save for himself and Margo) walked out slowly, as if they had just fought an exhausting battle, no one knowing whether they had won or lost. Gwen raised her head slightly.
âHey, Hobie. By âheâs one of usâ⊠do you mean some of that âyou canât own animalsâ, thing? Or, like, that heâs a Spider person⊠animal⊠cat?â
Hobie seemed to consider for a second.
âLast one. But also, like, both.â
The lights in the Neo Owl seemed brighter than ever that night. Pink, blue, green, the occasional flash of red⊠then pink again. The music boomed inside her head, the growl of the bass felt like a much needed kickstart to her heart. This was her place. This was where she belonged.
She hadnât even needed to do Rush. Her body was still standing, still bouncing, and the night wasnât even as young anymore.
A familiar voice would have approached her, her arrival as unnervingly hard to pick up as always, and would have muttered to her ear âyâknow, Iâm proud of you.â And Ada would have frowned, unable to stop herself from smiling back âyeah, well, I might start doing something worse tomorrow. Never grew too fond of my septum, anyway. I even payed someone to stab it, seeâ.
But no one was talking to her, and ghosts were as real as the economy.
As one of the songs faded into the next one, and feeling close to sobering out of her euphoria, she walked up to the bar to try and get another drink. Being a lone drinker was as lousy as could get, but she would manage. Tiny drops of sweat were gathering on her forehead, and she could tell that her mascara was starting to wear off. Not too bad for her age, ey.
The sweetest bartender ever served her another caipirinha (she was feeling fancy that night), his collar too perfectly placed, his shirt too closed for her taste. What? One could dream. Still, she gave him a polite smile, paid for her drink and tipped more than enough.
âMustâve been a cool tattooâ, he suddenly told her.
âWhat?â. She hoped she may have misheard him, but he unmistakingly pointed his chin towards her right hand.
âThe square thing on your palmâ, he explained.
Sharp sight.
âOh, itâs just⊠itâs something I regretted. Lasered it out.â
âYeah, I thought soâ. He laughed softly, as if suddenly embarrassed. âSorry, didnât mean to bother.â
Itâs OK, she thought to herself. He was just trying to strike up conversation. Everyone else seemed too faded to talk to, and it must have been lonely, to serve drinks in a place where everyone goes to get shitfaced enough to black out. Or maybe it was just part of his job, to be nice.
But⊠could he have seen it, really? In detail?
She downed the glass in one go, an icy coldness threatening to freeze her brain, but she ignored the sharp pain and knocked twice on the sticky wooden bar before leaving. Would have been a pity, to let such a drink be poured down a sinkhole.
Maybe she was just imagining things. It hadnât been so long that Moon had left for good, and she had gotten used to having her by her side, her special senses warning them both off danger. But regular old Ada had no such privilege. She covered her drinks with her own hand, carrying them around. She looked back every half minute when walking home alone. Sometimes, she even gazed up the buildings around her⊠Maybe if she looked up hard enough, if she kept a close eye and stayed fully aware every waking minute, she would have been there once again, looking down at her.
But no one ever saw Moon coming, if she didnât want them to. And Ada wished she hadnât seen her go.
this is my THIRD TIME trying to upload this ABC design i made, i am in super hell and can't tell u more than the fact that she's an old rave-scene glory who haxx
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