#ms muffet

"Muffet, this is Tuffet Base, reporting an urgent SOS." The voice on the radio wobbled like one of those aspic meat jellies that was popular in the 70s. Personally, Muffet had never cared for them: not enough macros.

"Repeat, this is an urgent SOS.” The voice continued. “Come in, Muffet!"

Muffet set down the weights, wiped sweat from her brow and swallowed one more bite of delicious sour protein mush. She picked up the radio.

"Muffet, receiving. Please provide your security phrase and emergency code. Over."

"Phrase as follows: I love to churn my own butter, but it sure does make my wrist ache. Over.”

“Have you tried finger stretches? They’re a good, low-intensity way to build wrist strength. Over.”

“It’s no good. The butter is simply too thick. Over.”

Muffet’s jaw tensed. This phrase meant the distress call was serious. As serious as a heart attack in a country without nationalised healthcare.

“Phrase confirmed. And the emergency code?” Muffet thought for a second before adding. “P.s. finger stretches really are a great starting exercise for wrist strength. Over.”

“Advice appreciated, Muffet, someday we’ll all be as swole as you, gods willing.” For a moment, the wobble in his voice stilled. “Code is 8-Ball. Over.”

Muffet’s face went grim.

“You can’t tell because we’re on the radio, but fyi, my face just went super grim. Over.”

“Understandable, Muffet. I know you have a history with these things. Can you help us? I don’t mean to pressure you, but if we don’t get help I’m afraid it’s all over. Uh, over.”

Muffet took a deep breath and gently squeezed a stress toy in the shape of a bottle of milk with googly eyes. The stress toy exploded into scraps of foam at even the gentlest force from Muffet’s iron grip. Muffet pulled an identical stress toy from a crate and destroyed that one too.

“I’ll be right over. Uh, over.”

“Thank the gods for you, Muffet.”

- - -

As the Muffet-copter wheeled around over Tuffet Base, Ms Muffet surveyed the damage. Smoke was trailing up from the outer turrets and there was the faint sound of screams, audible even over the heavy whup-whup of chopper’s rotors.

And there were *things* crawling crawling over the base’s walls and swarming towards the central compound.

“Put him in a holding pattern, Gerald.” Muffet called to her footsman in the pilot’s seat.

Gerald - whose piloting was as expert as his meal-planning - did as instructed.

As the helicopter swooped lower and began to hover steadily around the base, Muffet quickly donned a harness and attached a rappel line. Then she jumped and fell like a majestic lemming towards the ground.

The line splayed out behind her to slow her descent, but she still landed with a thump (and in perfect superhero pose) ahead of the advancing swarm. Muffet straightened up and squared up to the largest spider who led the charge.

She was trembling, but even she couldn’t tell you if it was from fear or anger.

“Listen up, you octoped fuckos and silk-shitting creepos.” She called out with all the thundering force of a ripshit diaphragm. "I came here to kick ass and eat curds and whey. And guess what, I’m all out of curds."

"Not even you will stop us, Muffet.” The spiders chittered in unison back at her. “We have dwelled in lonely darkness for too long, it is time once more for us to build a community in the light. All will join us or will flee in terror."

@pyrohawx 's Puss in Boots OC Ms Eliza Muffet!

+ bonus chibi jack x muffet doodle