𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑶 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑬 .ᐟ

The Goblin’s glider glistens in the moonlight, then she springs him from the nest and he can feel the wind upon his face; the hour was late, the streets alive and his for the taking. He will meet his enemy now and strike while the iron is hot. ——

It is his ticket to the future, a new-and-improved version of his own malefic route out into the world, redesigned with one goal worth accomplishing: to kill the wall-crawler. The Goblin rises and goes to her, fizzing with anticipation as he climbs aboard. ——

As he shields shrapnel from view, securing a glass plate to the front of the orange globe that he turns in his hands, there is an eruption to his rear. It is the unmistakeable sound of dread, the explosive hum that strikes fear into one Peter Parker. ——

Broken. ——

Everything. ——

These United States. ——

New York. ——

Spider-Man. ——

both perfectly so that they can simultaneously realise their truest desires. ——

Hunched over, barely lit, and humming in jagged laughter to oneself as he pours imagination and malice into his own inventions, he wakes. He has spent months lurking behind the eyes of charismatic industrialist Norman Osborn, waiting for the man behind the mask to position them ——

Because it is here, in the apex of the envy of the world, where the Goblin has made his lair, that the storm begins to take form. Here, tucked away from prying eyes, nestled in the space between life and death, is where the laughter spawns. ——

disturbance were soon to be realised.

The Spider-Man cut through the cityscape. He is a blade, longing to ascend its purpose, indelibly sharp and poised to strike. But the whetstone of New York’s chaos is about to be shattered by its very own chaos incarnate. ——

𝙏𝙃𝙒𝙄𝙋 .ᐟ

Darkness shudders at the familiar sound as it cuts through the otherwise-impenetrable black. The night’s musculature tenses as the moon rears its head above an overcast parapet. It is elemental and florid in its protection of the city and, now, acutely aware that the rumours of a ——

“Reason is numbing; intelligence taking exercise. Clearly, this leads the ‘wise’ toward delusion. Why walk the winding path of the logician when you could embrace the chaos of imagination?!

𝙃𝙖𝙃𝘼𝙃𝙖𝙃𝘼.ᐟ”

|: Been away for a couple days (and am in the process of deactivating my presence everywhere but here) due to an overwhelming impending sense of doom—I’ve not been doing great(!)—but will send all replies and have the #NIHILUX discord ready by tomorrow (as we can’t do group DMs here, yet). 💫

His threat falls on deaf ears, remains now consigned to the wasteland occupied only by elements and wolves.

HAIL TO THE FUTURE.

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In the eyrie black of the Goblin’s nest, where light and goodness struggle against the force of an indomitable will, something stirs.

Then, piercing the quiet of the night as though personally wronged by its peace, there is laughter.

𝙃𝙖𝙃𝙖𝙃𝙖𝙃𝘼𝙃𝙖𝙃𝙖𝙃𝙖𝙃𝘼 .ᐟ

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑮𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑮𝑶𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑵 𝑯𝑨𝑫 𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑫.

And the truth was simple… ——

But the bleeding this past week had remained hot and thick. The rumours had ramped up to an arterial spray and, by now, there was no way of stopping it. In the minds of those that listened, in the minds of those that believed, there was no longer anywhere to hide. The truth would prevail. ——

In fact, he found that—often—he was better placed to serve society if he remained ignorant to the rumblings of the underworld. ——

@bittenbydestiny.bsky.social knows all too well the importance of being dialled in to these murmurings; another sunrise beckoned another scalpel. What could he do? Stem the bleeding? A hopeless endeavour. The gossip in New York City is insidious. ——

Occasionally, however, this sociological wound serves a purpose; idle gossip originates somewhere and, after all, there rarely is smoke without fire. Sometimes the blood soaks underfoot with a noble truth, as the surreptitious whispers break free from the canard chrysalis. ——

Rumours—information so finely distilled that it can filter through anything—bleed. They permeate the skin of society & crawl up to its throat. There, they coagulate. Deep, beneath the uvula, it sets to work. Slowly, and then all at once, rumour smothers truth and extinguishes her from existence. ——

— 𝑨𝑵 𝑬𝑴𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑳𝑫 𝑬𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑴𝑨 .ᐟ

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴. 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳-𝘔𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘵?

A tenebrous blanket enshrouds concrete. Light siphoned from the tops of skyscrapers seeps into the streets below. Illumination.
In the city’s darkest corners: blood. It garnishes the sidewalk, wiped from the slate by a downpour, circling storm drains. An augury of death. A whisper.

𝗛𝗲’𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴.

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑼𝑺 𝑯𝑨𝑫 𝑩𝑬𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑨𝑳𝑳-𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑨𝑺𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮, 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑰 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑵 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑼𝑹𝑵 𝑰𝑵 𝑰𝑻 .ᐟ