#inhcritance

@inhcritance liked more feral chaos and a (re)meeting!

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“Your building security is pretty good.”

It felt dramatic to be sitting in the penthouse he absolutely had broken into with all the lights out. Not just out, but the bulbs of the lights actually removed and sitting on the kitchen counter. Neat and unbroken, set away from the edge so they didn't roll off like it was some kind of peace offering. After the amount of damages done to Oscorp property in the past month alone, it may as well have been. The three cameras that lay next to them though, that was making a point. No alarm had been triggered when he’d let himself in from the balcony, each one being tagged on the way up and dodged just right so that it didn’t notice anything was wrong before he pulled them off. No sirens inside the building, no silent alarms tripped or he’d have felt the warning of trouble and cleared out. Instead, there Peter was, crouched on the back of the couch in a way that didn’t have the whole thing tipping over with the hood of his jacket pulled up to help hide himself more, looking back at Harry Osborn of all people. Because the first place people would go when actively being hunted down by Oscorp was the home of an Osborn, obviously.

Then again, maybe Harry appreciated the dramatics. Just slightly. Probably not, his home had been broken into, but Peter could imagine.

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As soon as they entered the shop, Sioda saw fit to head straight up the stairs to the second floor as Nia spoke with the owner. Called on this time, and happy to take the item in question off the man's hands that he looked openly relieved to get rid of. A book that was not meant for the living to have, even if it wasn't among the most dangerous there were out there. She glanced at the stairs and thanked the wonder before heading up herself to collect her familiar. At first she assume that the cat would have been perched in the higher window to watch the street, or maybe sitting among the books on one of the shelves that had already gained his approval as a bed. The shoulder being eagerly bumped against for more attention was, admittedly, an expected third option.

    ❝ What's this about a cure? I made my way over to you as soon as I got your text. ❞

@inhcritance gets a spooky season starter

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Special orders didn't always fall on a day that main delivers came in, the ones that were set to restock the bookshop side of things from the past two weeks of customers coming in. New releases, hot titles, popular titles that were common for school or fans of the classics, and a few that were there to help flush out the smaller collections when needed or requested. When there was enough interest shown to warrant the money being spent on the orders in the first place. It was the special orders that were a little more unpredictable, and tended to walk in through the front door along with the customers rather than to the side door where they were usually brought. That case was especially true when Ed was making the order.

Not all of them, a decent enough number were common enough to come in with the next order. Just someone who happened to want something they sold the last copy of sooner than they could get in for it. Other times it was something a little more specific, a little less mainstream. The ones that most readers weren't interested in, or even knew about, but a less than the average person and more occult. The serious kind. The kind that people assured themselves absolutely didn't exist or were works of Hollywood at best and the dramatic young adult at worst. Ones that horror movies would write about and librarians would have on the "reference only" list if they knew they even existed. Ones that let him have a necromancer's number in his phone to text an update that an order was in before tucking it away in the "specials" shelf in back.

Even if one of his children is a dragon.

He gets to his front door, a smile already spreading across his face. He's home. After these long, long months, he is home. He turns the key in the lock, feeling it catch in that familiar way, stuck for a split second right before it swung wide.

Rhia's at her music lessons. But Harry. Harry is here, sprawled out on the couch, reading a book. And oh, his son.

His son. Arawn loves him so much he thinks that he might burst.

"I'm home."

For not the first time since he'd moved back into the house, Peter briefly wondered just how he'd gotten away with coming and going as Spider-Man without being caught by his neighbors. Of course, at the moment, it was a bit more of a hazy impression of a thought as he clumsily mostly-fell through his bedroom window. It being the dead of night probably helped. Oooh. Bad choice of words, he thought to himself- unable to turn off the jokes even with the rather large gash in his side. Or maybe that was because of the rather large gash in his side. Either way, said gash really needed something done about it which meant getting up from where he'd fallen onto his bed and into the bathroom where he kept all of his first-aid supplies.

+ @inhcritance asked: ❝ You can’t stop me, but I’m flattered that you’re still trying. ❞ - For a Spider-person of your choice?

+ " Now where have I HEARD that line before ? " Arms crossed over her chest, Gwen arched a BROW in Harry's direction . This wasn't here world ; not her husband , but the SIMILIARITIES were already enough to keep her amused beyond COMPARE . There was the matter of HOW she'd been brought here, much less if anyone else in their little CIRCLE had made the jump with her , but that could WAIT for the time-being .

As much as she was already seeing the PROSPECTS of turning all of this against any of their ENEMIES . What better ally than differing versions of THEMSELVES ?