Mrs Webhead

citta affiliated

[vlfgrim]

Survivors have scars. Victims have graves.

Something that I need carved in my bones. (via houndbitch)

[hitomikisugi]

Found on the fb page of Spider-Man Unlimited

[hitomikisugi]

Spidey & MJ by Carlos Pedro

[patheticwargod-deactivated20160]

Gods, if anything had the power to remain fresh like they were out of the bed every single minute. the only time they remain and looked tired and debaunched were times of great combat or nights that were better left unsaid when one spent company with the sheerness that is Deeth, the goddess or god of death, gender dependent on her mood. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spies people with most likely ill intent eyeing a female human wearing what would Deeth wear when feeling clothe and so without hesitation he throws his wooden spear, the size of a telephone pole really, into the ground like a javelin thrower in the olympics right in front of the perverts, feeling immense gratification when they ran scared. Though it did make a loud sound in the process. 

   “Human, your choice of dress has attracted disgusting primates. Do you not have the funds given by the scientist in order to make purchase of the outfit of choice?”

[mrswebhead-blog]

The crash is a surprise to her as it is for the rest of the people that happens to be near her. Unlike them, she was too close to the crash site to flee. Instead she crouches slightly to pull her head out of the trajectory of debris and moves her arms over her head to shield whatever that doesn’t hit her. 

As the dust begins to settle, Mary Jane reels her arms away from her head to peer at the destroyer. He towers over her, blocking out the sun; she steps back, in awe of the newcomer’s strength and presence. The moment of admiration soon dissipates as she realizes this man could crush her if he so pleased.

When the giant inquires about her funds, she couldn’t help feel slightly offended. She brushes it off to avoid pissing off the giant; at least he insults the dogs that hooted and howled at her, that makes the situation seem 5% better.

“I--”

There was no offer of money during the entrance of her city, and now she’s wondering if she was jibbed. Mary Jane sighs and shakes her head; she attempts to ooze confidence, though it is waning.

“If I had, I don’t think we’d be having this conversation.”

[mrswebhead-blog]

@lunastriker

This is getting ridiculous, Mary Jane thought to herself. It has been a couple of hours since her search of the city; what once was pretty feet were swollen in a light pink. She often took breaks to rest her feet and her mind; unfortunately for her, no shining knight on a white horse was going to whisk her away.

It must have been an hour ago that Mary Jane faced the fact that she looks like a runaway porn star. She neither wanted to classified as a runaway nor a porn star; although that wasn’t her decision. None of this was her decision, she would have packed a bag if she knew she was going to get kidnapped.

It is only now that she thinks about Peter. No wife, no note, no text, no call--well, that’s enough to make search the entire universe for her. Her stomach suddenly began to ache at the mere thought of breaking his heart. She could feel the tears dying to escape, but no, she takes a deep breath in and let’s it out slowly. Her strength slowly returns to her and she lifts up her chin, giving a curt nod. Soon after she’s marching down the streets with determination.

Mary Jane didn’t exactly have a plan, she was winging it and hopes she won’t run into anymore trouble. She spies the closest person and marches towards him, praying she won’t be asked how much per hour. As she reaches him, she comes to a halt and poses to reflect her inner strength.

“I need to know where the nearest Goodwill is.”

[mrswebhead-blog]

@apocryphism

It may seem farfetched to believe that models of high stature do not care about their body. Quite the contrary, considering they are humans like everyone else. Mary Jane was one of the thousands of models who cringe upon seeing their work posted everywhere. It was something she had to get used too, being there nearly half naked on the billboard for some movie. Somehow she managed to qualm the self-conscience ideas that run around in her mind. She attempts to do the same in her circumstances.

The hours have gone by and the Sun is setting. She has met various of unusual people on her journey, while some may have provided aid, it wasn’t enough to send her to the spa and relax. She would save that gift idea when she sees Peter again.

Oh, how her heart aches for her husband. She didn’t need Spider-Man zipping by and scooping her up and asking do you come here often. She needed her husband, Peter Parker to hold her and comfort her. She needed to feel his strong arms around her and his chapped lips pressing against her cheek. 

She finds herself trapped in her fantasies, losing all grasp on reality. One step that is unsupervised happens to be a cruel awakening. She fell off the sidewalk and on her knees; the fall cuts up her knees, which are already bleeding. Mary Jane takes her time moving, cursing herself for being so absent-minded. Little does she know there’s an on coming truck that would do more damage than her fall.

[mrswebhead-blog]

@patheticwargod

Her reflection in the store windows was an constant reminder on how dumb she looks. Mary Jane knew her attire warranted perverse thoughts for the passersby. She did her best to cover herself; ultimately she’s glad that the dress wasn’t sheer. Nevertheless, she remains critical on her mistake to wear the sexy lingerie.

Mary Jane wasn’t the type of woman to wear alluring outfits to bed. She preferred to sleep in one of Peter’s shirts. Thus, it is well assumed that what occurred the night of the kidnapping was another adventurous night for the Parkers. She beginning to wish during the clean up she had changed; hell, she couldn’t care less if Peter ripped it to shreds. Among these wishes called for rationality: she would be here naked and worse off.

“Cool it, sister, you’re going to be fine.”

The encouragement wasn’t well heeded. Nothing at this point could make Mary Jane feel anymore flustered.

She slows to a stop at a store, looking into the window at a modest dress. She’s looking like a kid on Christmas Eve, hoping and praying that her gift would be wrapped in a big red bow. Mary Jane knew her luck wasn’t that great. She would have to endure until some miracle comes to her rescue.

[hitomikisugi]

Spider-Man & MJ by Joseph Cooper

[asfornow]

Tina Tran, Let us always find each other [x]

[effyeahmaryjane]

[mrswebhead-blog]

@depowered

“Lost, alone, naked, and broke. What a great premise for a reality teevee show.”

After thirty minutes of walking without protection, Mary Jane had no other choice than to take a rest on a nearby bench. Her determination on searching for her appointed apartment has left her no reward. Everywhere she has been did not look appealing enough to examine inside. She knew how to walk the streets of New York to avoid being attacked, yet this was no Big Apple. To her, this city was worse and that wasn’t counting the circumstances of being caged.

Mary Jane settles on the bench for a good five minutes. In this time she combs her hair with her fingers, examined her battered feet and discreetly adjusted the panties to remove the wedgie that she has had for the past thirty five minutes. She finds herself calming down, giving her the ability to consider rational thoughts and ideas. 

“Thank God there’s no paparazzi.”

She couldn’t be more relieved over that fact. Walking around New York like this would only result in headaches. She already has been accused of everything under the Sun sans evidence. Hell, with this they would hit the jackpot. She dismisses the thought of paparazzi and comes to a stand.

A shot of immense pain rides up her legs to her brain. She yelps louder than she should of and collapses on to the bench. Mary Jane has fended off Chameleon with a bat, how could she not make it through this? She stands again, lurching and taking baby steps as she walks, leaving miniature blobs of blood on the sidewalk. 

[mrswebhead-blog]

@vishanti

In her line of work, remembering faces must be honed to avoid mishaps. A helpful tip that she has learned and passed down to her collective of proteges is: not every man in a baseball cap on studio is the director. However, the face that she peers at further down the street is familiar, and yet not. It is the garbs that give MJ a little aid. Late night pillow talks with Peter over the years, she has come to know the fashion of every ally. The only means to how she knows Strange isn’t the luxurious cape that hangs from his shoulders but the pair of tights that always induces Peter and her into an immature giggle fit.

Tentatively she approaches, considering her attire were only a sensual pink nightgown cutting off at her waist and matching panties. Mary Jane is rather embarrassed for both herself and him. It wasn’t her intention to make him uncomfortable, yet neither one could escape now. 

She forces herself to become calm to avoid the situation becoming a large-scale embarrassing nightmare. Mary Jane breathes in quietly and holds it before silently letting it out. She maintains the action until she can no longer feel the warmth on her cheeks. Unfortunately for her, the last step forward revived the embarrassment. 

With an awkward smile, wave, snort, sigh, she greets the famed sorcerer. Suddenly she beings to panic. What could she say to him, ‘hello, it’s spirit week?’ ‘it’s part of a play?’; she couldn’t manage conceiving any other responses, otherwise the two would be here for an hour. Thus, she finally wonders what would Peter do?

“What’s up, Doc?”

[mrswebhead-blog]

LIKE FOR A STARTER

CAP LIMIT 3 

castmates exempt from limit

[mrswebhead-blog]

The previous moment Mary Jane Watson-Parker recollects happens to be in the comfort of her bedroom. It is twelve midnight when she hears the ruffling of the blanket and feet padding towards the closet of the small bedroom. Mary Jane flutters her eyes open and peers across the way to see her husband dressing himself in the famed Spider-Man attire. She hears him whispering sorry and possibly go back to sleep. Once again there is padding of footsteps, this time they draw near to her. She then feels the sweet kiss upon her fiery red crown. She hears the I love you clear as day and a I'll be back before breakfast. If she weren't exhausted from the all day photoshoot, Mary Jane would have whispered back and return the kiss. She instead smiles and mumbles something she didn't even understand. The chill of the wind signifies her husband is gone. She rolls to her husband's side and steals the pillow he sleeps on; she wishes his pillow could radiate heat much like her lover. Five minutes past and she feels the warmth fading and is replaced by low temperature Mary Jane groggily calls for her husband only to hear her voice echoing off walls and back to her. Her brain suddenly reacts and she's sitting up. She observes the area and conclude she is the next contestant on SAW. The chill increases and suddenly she's freezing. She wraps her arms around herself, cursing the little insulation she receives in the little pink nightgown. The nightgown covers half way on her torso, exposing the matching silky panties. She already felt vulnerable in her attire, soon as the television lights up she moves from vulnerable to violated. Her barks of retaliation goes unnoticed by the recorded clip. When the screen goes blank, she almost pleaded for its return in hopes of finding a way out. The door at the far end of the room opens. She takes her time moving closer to the door, scanning every nook and cranny in the room in fear of a trap. She made it outside yet the stress remains. She wasn't in the Big Apple anymore, oh boy. Nightgown or not, she knew she had to find a payphone, a cell phone, banana phone, whatever kind of phone. Despite her determination, she found zilch. It occurs to her now after her failure to find a phone, the next best thing is to find clothes, ones that does not reveal so much of her body. With an encouraging ‘you can do this MJ’, she powers through walking on the lonely sidewalk, using her arms to covering as much as she can while mentally preparing to face the dangers that come with walking down the sidewalk alone in a sensual nightgown. If Miss Congenitality taught her anything besides pageants are evil is to S I N G.

[mrswebhead-blog]