what arms have lain under my head til morning? [mixed]

[tisnotthehouse]

Who: Tarantulas

What: This spider is about to have some real Bad Times. This is an top-level for everyone who would like to experience those Bad Times along with him.

When: Late February and March

Where: Open

Warning(s): Emotional manipulation and toxicity, people poorly coping with mental illness. Pregnancy, gore, and body horror. Further warnings TBD (4/7)

Comments

cw: self harm/blood/more pregnancy body horror

[lordoftheozarks]

Do people not just have these things in their bathrooms at all times? Erik sees nothing out of the ordinary about it. The moment he's got the implements in hand, he uses one long nail to slice open his wrist and let that blood pour into the glass. Credit where it's due, he did wash his hands first. He can practically hear Max berating him in the back of his mind for not washing his hands.

The moment he hears that crying he turns around and... that doesn't look like the spider-child he was expecting... No, no, now isn't the time. He snaps out of it and starts using the syringe to apply his blood to Tarantula's abdomen, sealing it up as best he can. He's still more than a little worried about what kind of internal trauma Tarantulas has but he can't do much about that. All he can do is keep Tarantulas from bleeding out all the way.

"Do you hear that? Your child lives."

cw: gore, medical horror

[tisnotthehouse]

"Hhaaaah -- I can hear it --" Tarantulas wheezes for breath, his surprisingly broad chest heaving while his fingernails and claws dig tiny grooves into the walls of Sally's bathroom. The pain had been sudden and blinding -- he'd lost time, although hopefully no more than a few seconds. He grits his teeth against the emptiness in his guts, the place where Erik has injected him itching and writhing as soft tissues rush to reknit themselves. He could take over. He could direct Erik's attention further in, where his organs were crushed and distorted by the weight of his child. It would help him heal more easily -- but he doesn't care about that. He doesn't care about anything, except --

"Where is it? Is it healthy?" he rasps, straining to see past Erik's shoulders to Sally, and the bundle in her arms.

The baby girl does not much resemble a spider, but she very much does look like Tarantulas, especially in the arrangement of her butter-yellow eyes -- two human, six arachnid, arranged like smooth little stones on her forehead -- and the cap of cobalt blue fur on her head. The rest of her skin is grey and bare, and she squalls fretfully as Sally gently cleans her up.

On her forehead are two little nubs, hard as bone. Where in the world did Tarantulas acquire such a child?