#inhcursed

[localwebslingers]

@inhcursed sent: “no, you don’t get to die”

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Less than five seconds, that was all it had taken. Octavius had seen his moment and took it, and at the same time Peter saw his opening and took it. Where time seemed to slow down and reflexes weren't used so much as they were just followed on instinct and first thought alone. That was all it took to move Peter as fast as he had. He hadn't been kidding when he'd tried to warn Harry that the former employee had it out for him. He hadn't thought twice when he moved in the way of the metal arm, opened up into a spike and aimed with the calculated accuracy that he'd seen from the doctor and others. He didn't pull away, didn't scream and maybe that was just the adrenaline to thank for it. Didn't tell Harry to run as he kept himself between the two of them...

He didn't let his legs give out until Octavius was webbed up and no longer a threat. Didn't look down to see how bad it was and the dark red standing out against the usual vibrance of the shade, or how it spread into the blue making a sickly color instead, until he was already doubled over as the first, dizzying wave of nausea hit him.

It wasn't the first time he'd been stabbed, but it sucked every time it happened. Especially the deep ones.

Peter pressed a hand to his middle, off to the side where the worst of it looked to be, and barely noticed Harry was even close to him. Let alone realize he had said anything in the first place. Peter grit his teeth and forced a breath back out, "You gotta make up your mind, man." he managed, free hand trying to push himself up again. Vision going dark around the edges, ears ringing but somehow he got to his feet again and found...something, to lean against. The wall? Something nearby that hadn't been used in the fight? He really hoped it wasn't Harry in those few seconds his vision was still hazy at best, "But I'll pass on the message..." his vision cleared enough to judge it was not Harry he was leaned against and Peter let his eyes close, head lulling against his arm that was bent against what ended up being the wall he apparently made it over to. Just focusing on breathing, on staying upright. Staying awake.

Seven pained, shallow, probably too fast breaths later he found his voice again, "I'll be fine..." and turned his head to look at Harry, starting to feel cold and clammy under the suit and dazed when he added, "wouldn't want you to give up your spot in the line anyways." he really was an idiot, wasn't he? Peter pressed harder against the wound, blood soaking through his glove and choking on a pained sound from it, "....you okay?"

[localwebslingers]

@inhcursed liked for an "In Hiding AU" starter

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Six hours earlier, a breaking news broadcast swept across New York with a supposed incident involving who locals in the city called "The Spider". Where a figure in a hooded jacket was seen hitting the front of an unidentified, black van and nearly flipping it in the process. In another shot, "The Spider" grabbed someone in tactical gear and seemed to snap the gun in the man's hand before throwing him into a group of others. Like he barely weighed a thing. Shots were fired but none of them seemed to hit, the engine and front of the van were completely caved in, and the figure responsible was suddenly gone witn no sign.

Peter didn't know this because of the footage being played in windows of shops or people talking about it on the street. He knew it because his ribs still hurt and the skin on his knuckes were scraped and bruised from hitting the van Oscorp, or someone at the company anyways, had sent after him. Because he'd tried to get away and they blocked him in instead. Because they had weapons to stun and render unconscious not to kill, and they had the nerve to demand he come with them. Quietly. Cliaming it was in everyone's best interest.

He knew because he got pissed enough to actually show them what happened when they didn't take the first hint to back off.

It was still six hours ago, becuse he was slowly making his way across town. Walking, head down, shoulder haunched. He wanted to just go "home", hide out and lay low for as long as he possibly could and wait for things to settle down. Like he usually did, like he knew was the safe option. Instead, halfway there, Peter had changed direction and made his way across town. When he knocked on Harry's door in the same pattern he started using to let his friend know it was him, it was slumped against the doorframe. Tired, and still way too sore as he waited for the door to open.

When the door did open, Peter glanced at Harry and didn't have it in him to straighten up right away, "...thought you'd actually like to know I was really okay this time."

[localwebslingers]

@inhcursed asked: "No mountain made of money can buy you a soul."

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"Harry if you want me to, I will...but are you sure?"

That had been his first and only question the couple of days leading up to the last full moon. Where after a lot of figuring out, the pack helped move Harry from one place of theirs to the next, always in the daytime, until the moon was thick and heavy in the sky with her song. To keep anyone from finding him, to keep Norman from finding him. Not before Peter could shift under that same moon, with the rest of the pack there both for support and protection, and bit Harry's shoulder. Hard. Breaking skin and drawing blood before immediately pulling off of him and licking over the wound, ears flattened and trying to apologize for the pain and the fever Peter knew would take most of the night to break.

Norman had been furious that his son had been turned to join a pack before he could join the coven instead. But that's what Harry had asked him to do, and Peter already gave his word back when they were kids that he would.

They'd made sure that he was well and the bite was healed before he left, and within a day Peter heard the news that Norman had sent Harry away. Not just away, but overseas, where it would have been impossible to reach him again. Should have been, if every single connection and sting the pack as a whole could possibly pull wasn't used. Just over three weeks later Peter's plane landed, leading to that moment. He tilted his head back slightly, "Doesn't seem to keep people fromt trying though, does it?" he offered back before looking over at Harry. To say that his relationship with his father was strained would probably be putting it nicely, and Peter couldn't say he thought a single positive thing about Norman Osborn since he was about six years old. If that.

He deeply and truly hoped back in New York, the man was seething that he was there right now.

Peter looked over at Harry and shifted to be able to face him, "...you don't have to stay here if you don't want to." he said then. Carefully, but simply, because as much power as Norman had, and liked to think he had, there were still some ways things worked that even he couldn't touch or change, "I mean it, Har. You wanna come back with me to New York, we'll get whatever stuff you have here right now and be on the first flight back. You'd be back before the moon was even home...you'd be home, before your first shift."

[localwebslingers]

@inhcursed asked: ❛ you think you could give me a hand? ❜

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"Yeah, give me just a second." Peter agreed, slightly off camera as he dug a different textbook out of the pile near his bed. Unpredictable times to actually talk meant that sometimes it happened at odd times of day and sometimes that was while he was wrapping up studying. As much as he would be more than okay with dropping everything to just focus on talking with Harry, long distance and mutual suffering on homework could be nice too. Not always suffering, sure, but it was almost, almost, like Harry was back home again as they were working through math problems. One of those little things that admittedly, Peter held onto that made the ongoing distance easier.

And sometimes, it was good because they had a chance to help each other out with the studying itself.

Peter pushed his chair to wheel back over to his desk fully and turned to look at the screen, setting the chemistry book back down. Somewhere his rambling about science topics to Harry became helping him with science topics and honestly, Peter was just glad he could clearly explain the thing in the first place. Equations were a little harder since they couldn't share a paper, but it still worked, "What have you got? Is it bio again or do you have another class you've been keeping secret?" he paused and leaned forward on the desk slightly, "Unless this is some, non class related thing you need help with. In which case the answer is still yes and we might not even need a calculator for it." he teased.

[localwebslingers]

@inhcursed asked: "trust me, if i could go to someone else, i would."

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Peter would be well within his right to slam the door in Harry's face, or call the police, anything but hear him out. It would be reasonable, it would feel justified, after everything that had happened. After Harry had gone out of his way to take Gwen and drag her into the middle of a fight she had no reason to be part of, that ended up getting her killed. After sending a list of powered and enhanced villians, ranging from actively criminal to jaded scientists, in Peter's direction to try and beat him down for good.

After Harry had tried and so very clearly wanting him dead, just because Peter had tried to keep him safe from something terrible...

The day that Harry Osborn got out of Ravencroft, either released or escaped, was something that haunted Peter. Waking nightmares that let him spiral into his own head wondering who would be hurt or killed next because of him. Driving him into keeping himself as isolated from others as possible, with only May left in his life to keep him anything close to grounded. In other ones consuming his dreams. To fill them with that same laugh and malicious, snarling grin he'd witnessed the last time they were together. All accompanied with the echos of crashing metal, explosions, and clock chimes that would cling to him until the day he really did finally die himself.

This? Harry coming to him to ask him for help once again? That wasn't even at the very bottom of the list of reasons why Peter might see his best friend- ...his former best friend, again. It felt like a sick joke from the universe, some poorly disguised plan to try and trick him in the end. A mockery of what had happened before eveything had gone so horribly wrong in the first place.

...and yet that was exactly why Peter was hesitating in the doorway, because Harry was also right. If there was anyone else, anyone in the entire city, that he could go to for help, for anything, he would. Peter should not be on that list of options. Not anymore, and yet if he was being told the truth, that's exactly where his name was. On the list. It was a sick joke, it was insane to believe. It twisted something in his chest that Peter actively tried to pretend wasn't there, even on his worst days. When he hated himself more than anything.

It also begged the question of just what the hell Harry needed help with so badly that he was willing to swallow all of that and come to see Peter.

He hadn't moved or responded for several seconds, which Peter would openly admit he felt entitled to while he debated what to do and tried to just remember to breathe. The door handle in his hand was also, probably, about to be torn off. Just from him trying to keep from cracking over the fact that he'd opened the front door to Harry Osborn. May wasn't home..that was possibly the only thing letting him even try to think rationally and calmly. Finally, he took two steps forward and closed the door behind him, keeping his eyes on Harry and somehow, finding his voice, "Alright, let's talk..."

Harry had come to him, at least possibly, for his help. Which meant he was desperate. Again. Even with five years and the death of Gwen Stacy between them, Peter couldn't bring himself to say no.

[localwebslingers]

@inhcursed asked: “Let me guess, I should ‘see the other guy’?”

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There wasn't even a drop of worry or concern that Peter could hear in that, and he really didn't expect to hear either anyways. What he did hear, was probably best described as passive sarcasm and that was a little more expected. If there was going to be a comment at all. Usually, Peter tried to hide the worst of his injuries from others. Both to keep them from worrying or asking questions that were going to be harder and harder to answer the more they noticed, and to keep them from worrying about him. It was easy when people just saw Spider-Man but had no face to place under the mask. Just some guy with powers taking on something or someone bigger than what others could handle and somehow, he swung away after it all. They didn't think about who it was, where the masked vigilante went after the dust settled, if there was someone there to patch him up or if it did it all by himself.

In a sick, humorless joke from the universe, Harry was probably the one person who couldn't possibly care less about how badly Peter had gotten hurt when he saw it. His best friend- former best friend -was the only person he didn't have to try and hide the bruises from. The fact that he was holding his ribs while waiting at the meet spot they chose this time, and briefly Peter wondered if Harry could somehow tell he'd barely patched up the bleeding cuts before throwing his clothes on over his suit and getting there in time.

Hilarious.

Enough that he managed to give a short, humorless laugh before his tongue poked at the split in his lip. The sting reminding him not to bite into it, "Yeah, something like that." Peter agreed. No one had spared him a second glance as he made his way over, or when he sat down to wait. People got jumped all the time, or maybe the black eye was from something else. Maybe it was none of their business and New York should just keep moving along the way it always did. Hurried, head down, and looking the other way.

Peter choked down a pained sound and managed not to grimace with the pain that shot through his body. A part of him wondered of Harry was happy getting to see him like this, Peter didn't need a mirror to know it was pretty rough. That even with his clothes covering most of the injuries that had to be obvious to anyone to took more than three seconds to look at him. The idea brought with it a new sting he didn't have the energy to feed into, and he just nodded to the space next to him, "...got good news though, unless you want to go first with anything you found."

[localwebslingers]

@inhcursed asked: “   this  is  wrong .   all  of  this  is  wrong .   ” - For TASM!Peter?

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There was a dull thud and grunt from Peter from beside his desk after hitting the drawer that was still opened. It was shut with a huff before he was sitting back in his desk chair again, rubbing the back of his head to soothe the ache and looking back at the screen where Harry’s image was. Ever since they’d managed to work out how to video call each other, as soon as Peter heard that Harry was free for it everything else got dropped. Which was easy, he still didn’t have any other friends to cancel plans with and wasn’t exactly in many after school clubs either. 

Aunt May and Uncle Ben had set the rule that he had to at least come downstairs to grab his dinner before going back to the room again. That was it, they asked him to pass on that they said hello and left Peter to hide away upstairs for however long the call took. Which were, unfortunately, not really consistent. They weren’t always free and able to for one reason or another, hence dropping basically everything else. It was hard for Peter not to look forward to actually getting to talk with and see Harry, even if it wasn’t in person. 

He would gladly take a three hour call every other week if that’s all they could pull off than nothing at all.

Peter opened the bottle of water he’d been trying to dig out and minimized a window for the last topic they’d gotten caught up on, making the one with the chat and video take up the screen instead, “What’s all wrong?” he asked, taking a drink from the bottle and setting it aside as he looked at Harry, “You’re not going to try and trick me into helping you with math homework or something, are you?”

[localwebslingers]

@inhcursed liked for an "in hiding" au starter

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The second floor window on the far, west side of the Osborn Manor could still be pressed on just right to force it open from the outside.

Eight years ago, Peter had snuck out of the Stacy home to stay there all night and into the morning. Just before Harry was sent away to school, because he didn't know when he would see his friend again and he barely managed to keep from crying until he was back with a first worried and then confused Captain George Stacy. It was four days ago that he'd over heard a news report about Harry being back in town following the death of his father and was taking over the company. As well as spending those same four days debating and watching the manor trying to figure out the answer to one simple question.

Was it safe to be there?

Five hours ago the sun was setting, two hours ago the last person that was putting him on edge left in a fancy black van, and when it still seemed calm ten minutes ago? Well, Peter was assured to know that no one found his old way to sneek in from when he was a kid and sliped into the second floor hallway. The window was silently shut behind himself and pulled the hood of his jacket down finally to look around. It seemed just like he remembered it, even smelled the same.

He stayed where he was and waited, counting to ten before being sure no one else was nearby who was dangerous before starting to walk down it. Exactly one door had a light coming from under it and Peter again, counted tot en listening and waiting for any sign that it was a bad idea and to make a run for it before he got spotted. His teeth bit into his lip before he hesitated and lifted his hand, knocking twice on the door. There was a pause before he did the same thing and waited a moment.

The knocks had to be quiet, they always had to be, in case it echoed down the hallway. In case Norman Osborn heard it. Peter waited a moment before carefully opening the door and stepping inside, shutting it just as quietly as the window and leaning back against it as he tried, and failed, not to fidget with the ends of his jacket sleeves.

"...hey, Har."