#bc they are my own and not canon. and i don’t want people to think i’m wildly misunderstanding the character

[angy-grrr]

The good old conflict continues over Twitter. According to dudebros, apparently, we are the problem for Hori not making IzuOcha canon. But at the same time, IzuOcha is already canon in an 'implied' sense in the narrative, and that we are delusional for ''denying their canon romance''.

Some people are even trying to argue that Bakugo and Izuku don't have that much of a special bond or relationship. I mean... really? So we just gonna ignore the literal core part of the story, then?

They constantly like to bring the moments like the recent roof scene and how 'Ochako saved Deku when Deku lost control of the black whip'. Let's just ignore that Izuku lost control because someone insulted Bakugo and that Ochako couldn't stop Izuku, she had to get him be 'brainwashed'.

If the roof scene was The Moment, then they would have gone canon right and there, yet they didn't. Oh.... But, yeah, sorry. It's actually our fault that Hori didn't make the straight ship canon in his shounen manga.

When will they stop acting like the straights are oppressed?

BNHA 430 SPOILERS

it’s quite common for manga shonen series to canonize their het ships by showing something romantic without letting us know how they confessed, at least in the original work; they are often already married in a time skip, or they are shown together in the future while at least one of them (usually the woman) blushing, and this is bc of Japanese typical narration - its not driven by the need of a closed conclusion, usually it’s even better the more often it gets.

I recommend checking on kishotenketsu for more on this!

but anyways, the thing with ochako and Izuku is they don’t have any implied romantic moment which lets the intended audience to understand they are in a relationship -the only scene they have together alone in the time skip is with a small panel, which could be valid, but the snow doesn’t imply it’s Christmas (a romantic holiday) as they are wearing their uniforms and probably are still on campus and neither is even blushing or shown being typical teenagers in love, even tho is clear Izuku is still quite like “a boy at heart”, wanting to be called cool by his teacher at 25 (I don’t believe in the perspective many have of him getting all confident about romance and having a flirty attitude towards Ochako or anyone; there’s nothing implying he became that way). Even Ochako doesn’t have her usual blush!

Bc Mr. Compress is under it reading Spinner’s book, along with the melancholy of the winter with the harsher conditions but beautiful landscapes, it creates a bittersweet image in Japanese culture, as far as I know in my research. It’s not “the villains died but hey, the heteros are dating!”, but more about “Tenko and Himiko died, and there’s this memory about them that will always live. Wonder and snow is a time for reflection, with the possibility of a bright future, so Ochako and Izuku, while failing, still have hope to save complete strangers and inspire others to do the same”.

I think is more about them and the villains, everyone becoming heroes on their own by helping others no matter their “oficial status”. the funniest part? It could be more romantic and imply they are together quite easy if only Horikoshi decided to actually make them a duo and be basically destined to be together helping others if he didn’t choose Katsuki to fulfill that role. He could have just highlighted her with the suit thing, extend her hand, smile at him telling him to do his best, etc. But nah, let’s just have Katsuki tell him to come with him as a hero and imply they hold hands or extend their hands to the other even if they aren’t in need of saving.

Yeah, that’s bc he’s scared of shippers. Sure sure, whatever helps them sleep at night yk?

[yourqueenb]

You have no idea how happy I am to see that other people like you don't like blades 2 as well. Like yes it was decent, but on the same level as book 1 in the LEAST.

And I agree, book 3 seems like an excuse to get fans off of their back about the writing. The finale felt extremely disappointing, compared to the thrill you could feel in book 1 end

Yeah, I’m still gonna play book 3 and (foolishly) hope that it’ll be better. But those hopes aren’t too high because book 2 was not a good set up for book 3 at all in my opinion. There’s so much going on. I don’t like that Valax is a part of our friend group now. However, the group dynamics were off long before that if I’m being real. Mal’s route was ruined for me.

When I was going through and deleting my screenshots the other day, I reread the “You slept through it scene” and just felt a renewed sense of hurt and anger at him and really all of our friends. Mal caught a lot of heat from me specifically because he’s my LI and the one who said such an awful thing. But honestly, the rest of the group essentially agreed with him by expanding on what he said (Imtura and Nia) or not saying anything at all (Tyril) and only getting on one accord to exclude MC.

And then on top of all of that, there are quite a few holes that really should be patched up. The plot was a mess for the majority of the story. Tbh it was almost giving Endless Summer because they were locking important information behind diamond scenes and in the lore tablets.

So all this to say that at this point in time, I no longer have faith that PB can handle complex storytelling. Their parent company and higher ups (unsurprisingly) only care about money. And the writers themselves are too lazy and too biased. Does that mean they can no longer write enjoyable stories? No, of course not. But I do think they need to rein it in and be a bit more realistic about what they can handle right now because there’s nothing wrong with a simpler book/plot that’s aware of what it’s trying to accomplish. And it’s clear that they were far too ambitious with Blades 2

[spikyiwaizumi]

realised that I never wrote canon verse iwaoi because there are so many wonderful fics out there that I don’t want to write any. literally so lucky to be able to read what I want to see?? so I’ve got no desire to write another one….

[harapeveco]

My favorite interaction with an Eve stan has to be with this one guy I met back when I was in tdt who always said that the only canon MVs were the ones that had Hitotsume in them and if he wasn’t there then it didn’t count as canon which annoyed me so I told them that if we followed that logic then Hakugin is canon bc Hitotsume appears in it and that made them so mad they never spoke to me again

[pyroexcape]

when you draw something just for self indulgence but then go too hard on it and get mad that you made it too cringe to share. this sideblog was an attempt to not care about that and draw things without worry but apparently there is no limit to what my brain is embarrassed about

[heartpascal]

is it freedom?

▹— spiderverse (future) found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: after losing everything, you struggle to accept the one thing you needed all along.

▹— a/n: ok i have been enabled by exactly two (2!) people. (thank you both) SO dare i start a spiderverse series??? IF YALL WANT MORE OF THIS… I WILL DO IT. this is really just a set up thing idk but i feel like arachnid has potential for further parts and ACTUAL found family!! also haven’t tagged people on my general taglist bc idk if you guys want to be tagged in ALL works or just all pedro works :(

▹— warnings: slight across the spiderverse spoilers, not really found family yet, injuries, blood, treating own injuries, stitches, fighting (canon-typical violence yall), dead parents (mentioned a LOT), a whole lot of angst (it’s a spider-person so what do we expect), reader has a whole lot of bad thoughts, loneliness, isolation

masterlist PART TWO

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Had you known what this, this thing, would lead to, you would have never started it. Not that you had done so purposely, at least to begin with, more so happening as an event of pure chance. You were in the right place at the right time, and since then, you had been addicted.

But if you could go back, look at yourself just a year younger than you are now, tell that kid what would come if you went through with saving a life for the first time, you wondered. It was a question that scratched deep in your brain, sending you off balance the more you thought about it; would you have still done it? Would you have saved that person’s life, knowing it would lead to your own falling apart?

You would like to think yes. In fact, you know that back then, when your eyes were bright at the prospect of helping people, when you still marvelled at the world like it was good, you would have been certain that it would be worth it. Why should that person die, just to save you? It’s a harrowing realisation. A conclusion that makes your fingers tremble, your voice shake. Now, you’re not sure you would do it. You don’t think you could bear to face that decision knowing what you know of the world around you now.

It’s something cruel, really, that the spider that bit you gave you these powers, and nothing to go back and fix your mistakes. Your perceived victories. Your losses.

But the worst has already happened, and the only one left to die is you, so you carry on. You don the suit every day, you sew up your own injuries on the top floor of the abandoned offices that you’ve claimed as your own. Each day, you wake when you choose, you sleep when you want to, and you work yourself down to your very bones with nobody to object.

The hollow feeling in your gut is a pain you have no choice to ignore, to smother with assurances that this is freedom. What else could it be? You do whatever you so please, you spend your time swinging through the streets of New York rather than doing schoolwork at home, you eat all the junk you could ever have wanted.

It’s freedom. It has to be.

You tell yourself that you don’t miss the home part of having to do schoolwork, promise your heart that you don’t miss home-cooked meals as opposed to greasy food that leaves you unsatisfied. You swear that you like having nobody to tell you what to do. There’s no other choice, after all.

And each day, when you spend a little bit longer out on the streets, getting yourself into needless fights that the police could certainly handle, you tell yourself it’s because you’re protecting the city. You convince yourself that it’s not because of having an unending rage to satiate, or a permanent feeling of breathlessness when you leave police to handle anything, as if you could relive the moment your father, the captain, was left to handle something he couldn’t.

So, you’re almost relieved by the appearance of something… strange. Something dangerous. This is what you live for — this is your job.

You crouch against the wall, fingers splayed and suit itching where you had crudely sewn it back together across your ribs at an almost too-close call. You hold your breath, you watch. The lenses over your eyes shield your sensitive sight from the harshest colours of this new opponent, who looks almost… unreal. Too different to be a part of reality. He yells out, seemingly glitching? A distorted scream of what is apparently pain, accompanied by flashes of colour that are unfamiliar to you.

“Well, that doesn’t look good.” You comment, eyebrows raised beneath your mask, and the strange looking guy snaps his head towards you, long hair slapping across the goggles over his eyes. He bares his teeth at you, something almost resembling a grin marring his face.

“Spider-man!” He yells triumphantly, cackling as he wipes the hair away from his face, tendrils unfurling from behind his back and lifting him into the air.

“Not quite!” You call back, dodging below the metallic arm that shoots towards where your head was, crumbling through the wall. You try to think back to the jokes you used to tell to rile up whoever you were facing, but find your mind is blank. Instead, all you can think of is questions. “Where the hell did you come from, anyway?”

The man follows you as you spring from wall to wall, heading towards the center of the building where it tunnels up for about forty floors, balconies overlooking the fountain below. “A new spider, eh? Well I’ll take you down just as easily as I have the other!” He tells you, though you’re immediately suspicious of his statement. You’re the only Spider-related hero around, and even if you weren’t, you doubt this guy could squash a worm, let alone you.

“Sure thing, man.” You say, sighing, already exhausted by the repetitiveness that comes with every fight. Your opponents always say they’ll beat you, kill you, squish you, take you down, and yet you always get back up at the end of the fight, and they always remain defeated. When you started doing this, you never would have thought you’d get so tired from winning all the time.

And yet here you are, slipping further and further up the building with the octopus-looking guy chasing after you, metal arms crumbling walls and bannisters on his way up. He falters once more, another one of those glitch-like movements sending him down a few floors, but he’s quick to recover. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

You crouch down on one balcony, somewhere around the thirty mark floor-wise, peering down at the guy as he shakes lingering pain from his body. He charges upwards, aiming to reach you quickly with an almost predatory smirk on his face. Before he can even get close to you, however, you’re back on the move, setting a trap for him that he doesn’t even seem to notice.

It’s only when a group of late workers emerge on what you’re pretty sure is the twenty-first floor that you become more anxious about this fight. You don’t like when civilians are involved.

There’s about a dozen of them crowding the balcony, looking up to where you’re facing off with octopus-man above, some having begun to descend the stairs to the next floor before catching on to your presence. You try not to draw attention to them, but their pointing and whispering sets the Spidey-sense off, ringing loudly between your ears, almost deafening in its intensity. Maybe you underestimated this guy. The flash of a camera sends the last hope of him not noticing down the drain, and he grins at you as he switches targets, climbing down towards them with some semblance of caution.

You’re much faster than he is, dropping down and using a web to catch yourself rather than having to climb. It’s hard to stop yourself from yelling at them, cursing them out for being so damn foolish — who in their right mind would stick around a very dangerous fight to take pictures?

Instead, you choose to yell, “Get out! Go, go, go.” And usher them down the stairs, but it’s not difficult to realise that this guy is going to get to them before they manage to descend to the bottom. You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Nothing is ever as simple as it could be, not for you.

The split second decision to drop down and form a net-like web low enough to catch the workers worked out for you in the end, as you swung back up and pushed the workers off of the balcony and stairway just as the octopus man was reaching them. He cursed at you, refocusing his efforts on you as you vaguely noted the workers clambering down after their screaming had stopped. Honestly — did people really have so little faith in you? Had you ever sent anybody to their death before?

“You are just as pesky of an insect as Spider-man!” He growled out, teeth gritted, and came after you with renewed force. He kind of reminded you of that doctor you faced not long after getting your powers, but this guy looked completely different. The doctor you faced — aptly named Doc Ock — had turned himself into some form of a mutant, he had reinforced tentacles which sprouted from his back. Was this guy some kind of copy cat? Maybe he was just delusional.

“I don’t know who Spider-man is, man!” You shout to him as you ascend the building again, trying to figure out the best way to take this guy down. His tentacles seem electronic, so surely you could disable whatever machinery resides on his back?

“That’d be me.” A voice came from above you, two floors ahead of your position. Your head snapped towards it, seeing a man in a blue and red suit, framed by a burst of orange behind him. He didn’t linger up there long, instead moving to leap down to the guy who had turned his attention to the new guy. The closer you looked at this new guy, the more similarities you saw to yourself — his webs looked remarkably similar to your own, the pattern that went across his suit matched your own, even the wide white lenses that shielded your eyes on your mask. Who the hell was this guy?

The octopus man grinned widely, shaking greasy hair from his face. “Ah, finally! The real Spider-man. Got yourself a new protégé, I see.” He drawled, dodging this new guy’s hit straight off of the bat. You tried not to get annoyed at being referred to as a protégé, considering as far as you were aware, you were the only Spider-person around. Where was this guy when you were holding a bridge full of civilians together? Where was he when you took down villain after villain, never once failing to get the guy? No — you were the real Spider-man, if anyone.

“I don’t know who you are, man, but I’m handling this just fine.” You call to the guy, swinging down to rejoin the fight, webbing the villain’s metal tentacles to the wall behind him, before dropping down to kick him towards the wall.

“Oh, so you know how to send this guy back to his own dimension?” Spider-man asks you, eyebrows raised beneath his mask, and as if on cue, the guy glitches once more, ripping his arms away from the wall and just about catching himself on a balcony below before he could fall into your net.

You gape at the new guy, glancing back up to where the burst of orange remains opened, and is that a portal? Is this Spider-man from another dimension? Is that why you’ve never heard of him before? God, if your mother was alive, she’d kill to find out about this. Inter-dimensional travel was something she had spent her life researching. If you didn’t remain so bitter toward her even after her death, you might’ve been sad she wasn’t alive to see this.

But you were bitter, and it made the experience all the worse.

Because you’re pretty sure that that bitterness takes the place of grief within you. It’s hard to understand why you crave to feel that pain, that grief, as opposed to the aching resentment that floods you with the thought of her. It’s such a sharp contrast to thinking of your father, your kind father, the man who threw himself into a battle he couldn’t have hoped to survive, just on the off chance he could save somebody. You hope you take after him.

“Wait— you’re from another dimension?” You question anyway, eyes flickering between the battle and the looming portal above. In fact, you’re so distracted by finding out about that tidbit of information that you miss octopus man aim a tentacle for you, and it snatches you around the ankle. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me—!”

The man waves you around like some kind of rag doll, and you try not to be too bitter about being caught off guard. You should probably learn that getting caught up in your little pity party always ends up badly, always distracts you from that renowned Spidey-sense. You formulate a plan in your mind when the drip of blood around your ankle draws your attention back to the battle at hand.

You web the wall opposite and hold on tight, pausing the movements and letting the dizziness that had come over you fade away. The man growls out in annoyance, and gets closer to cut the webs with another tentacle, which is exactly what you planned for. The tension from the webs launches you towards him when you let go, and in his surprise, the metal tentacle releases you. You wrap around him, and start webbing up the machinery embedded in his back as Spider-man distracts most of the tentacles, keeping them from pulling you off.

His tentacles start faltering, clearly not obeying his movements, and you wrap them up where they emerge from his back, continuing along until the movement is so limited that he has to use them all to clutch onto the nearest balcony.

You crawl up the tentacles in the very same spidery manner that you’re known for, and crouch, watching the octopus man struggle as Spider-man observes from the balcony opposite. “You wanna finish this one off, Spider-man?” You ask, unable to hide any bitterness from your tone at his mostly unhelpful actions throughout the battle.

“Hey, not bad!” He praises, and it annoys you. You’re good at what you do — for the most part. You manage without help constantly, and that’s the way you prefer it. “You’d make a good addition to the Spider Society!”

Now, you don’t know what the Spider Society is. But honestly? You don’t care. You don’t need help, and you prefer working alone, and you certainly don’t like feeling patronised.

“Whatever, man. Just send him back to whatever dimension he came from.” You tell the guy, and drop down as you hear sirens outside, landing on your injured ankle and just about stopping yourself from cursing. Through all the adrenaline and fighting, you’d forgotten about the way the metal had ripped into your skin, drawn blood. It’s just be another place you’d have to sew up your suit with itchy, uneven stitching. “Officers,” You greet as they open the doors, guns drawn, radios murmuring. “All taken care of. Civilians okay?”

“Shaken up, but fine.” The leading police officer says, immediately relaxing and holstering his weapon. You wish it reassured you that the police trusted you now, but it didn’t. Nonetheless, the other officers follow suit. “Thank you, Arachnid.”

The name your world has bestowed upon you has yet to grow on you, but you nod your head regardless, and salute them as you make your way out, swinging across the city, trying to put the existence of the multiverse and inter-dimensional travel out of your mind. Surprisingly, it’s pretty easy when you have a busted ankle to fix up.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You’re halfway through stitching up your suit, having already sewn your skin back together with as much skill as you possessed in the matter — which was, not much. But the bleeding has stopped, and your stupidly slow healing will take care of it within a few days. You know that the itchy stitches on your suit will just irritate the injury, and though you wouldn’t lose anything if your identity was revealed, it doesn’t feel right to go out into the city with any part of you on show.

No, you wear the suit for a reason. You keep every part of yourself covered because nobody can know it’s you underneath the suit. Not because you had anything to lose, no, you had already lost everything. It was because then you could never make a mistake, you would have to be absolutely perfect, flawless, to make up for the fact that it was you underneath the layer.

So, you settle with a sewn suit that will itch and make the stitches on your ankle sting.

However, when there’s a burst of orange across the room, you have no choice but to forgo the suit, to simply drop the needle and thread and hover your fingers over your web shooters. You wait, nervously, for some other villain to appear. You’re not sure if Spider-man appearing would be better or worse.

But when a foot steps through the portal, it’s nobody familiar. In fact, it’s a suit you have never seen before, made up of dark blues and bright reds, sharp edges and long claws. It’s… unnerving, and considering the silence coming from the person wearing it, you’re not entirely certain of what they’re here for.

A moment later and another person steps through, a woman, with bright yellow lenses across her eyes that filter her irises into an amber. She steps forward, standing beside the person who had stepped through first, and if she hadn’t showed up, you would’ve been tempted to attack. With that being said, you remain on edge, but there’s something… comforting about her presence. Like her presence softens the man’s jagged edges.

She says your name, and then adds, “Arachnid.”

You furrow your brows and curse as you glance back at the suit so crudely laid out on the floor. Still, it doesn’t explain how she knows your name. Was it an inter-dimensional thing?

“Spider-man told us about your work in capturing Doc Ock earlier.” She tells you, as if that explains their presence. You did what you were supposed to do, which was take out the bad guys. “We’re here to offer you a place in the Spider Society.”

You can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of good cop, bad cop thing. She presents an offer which doesn’t sound too bad, and then her sharp-edged companion presents all the drawbacks and the catches. They don’t seem like the type to take no for an answer, either way. You still don’t even know what this Spider Society was! Was it some kind of multi-dimensional cult?

“I already told Spider-man that I wasn’t interested in joining whatever cult you’ve got going on.” You practically hiss, though you didn’t exactly tell him in such blatant words. You were more dismissive earlier, so you’d have to be clear now.

“It’s not a cult,” The man speaks, voice harsh and sharp much like the blades that branch from his forearms. “We work to protect the multiverse from anomalies that threaten to destroy it.”

The woman glances at him in a way that you translate as being vaguely annoyed, like he wasn’t approaching you in the way she had wanted him to. “He means to say that it’s a big job, and we need all the help we can get.” She says, softer, but only in comparison to the man’s harshness. “Listen, kid, you’re good at what you do. We need that kind of talent.”

“You’ll have to find it somewhere else.” You say firmly, because why would you want to leave your universe? This was a lot to think about when you had only learned of the multiverse existing mere hours ago. Regardless, you weren’t about to abandon your city just to go across the multiverse to help other heroes who couldn’t keep a leash on their own villains.

The two of them shared a look, a mere glance, before the woman heaved a sigh. “Look,” She sighed, heavily, like whatever she was about to say was something she didn’t want to be voicing. “Before you make your choice, you should know, your Green Goblin is currently terrorising another universe.”

You couldn’t work out if this was some kind of recruitment tactic, or something. That just wasn’t possible. You had put Gwen Stacy in the highest security prison after all antidotes to her goblin-tech failed. She was stuck in there — permanently. There was no way she had gotten out, let alone gotten out to another universe.

…Right?

It’s hard not to think of the memories at the mention of her—Green Goblin, not Gwen Stacy. Never Gwen Stacy. You wonder if this is where your fear comes from, the terrifying fact that you are remembered only for your mistakes. Because before she was the Green Goblin, she was Gwen. She was everything to you. She was the sun you orbited, the stars that charted your path. And it hurts, it hurts that you can only remember the blood and the dust and the destruction when you think of her.

People aren’t born as monsters, are they?

Like the spider that bit you, that invertebrate that so many fear, it was born the way it was. It was born with those fang-lined maws, with those eight legs and dozens of eyes. It was made into the monster it became, artificially crafted to deliver a venom that changed you forever. But it wasn’t born that way.

Surely, Gwen wasn’t either. She was kind. You remember that about her. You can remember her soft hands that used to hold your own, the loud laughter that always ended in a snort when she laughed at her own jokes, the gentle eyes that stared into your very soul. But those eyes are the very same ones that let her see through your mask, let her see exactly where to hit you to make it hurt. Was that what she was born as? Or is that what she was made into? A killer. A monster.

“Show me.” You say, because what else could you possibly respond? If what they’re saying is true, if the Green Goblin is loose once more, then people will die.

You can’t let her get fresh blood on her hands. Not when somewhere, deep inside your chest, so far down it’s almost unreachable, you have hope for her. You have an innate desire to look for the best in her, even when the Gwen you knew was the first life that the Green Goblin took.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

If there’s one thing you’ve taken from being Arachnid, it’s to expect the unexpected. And you go through the orange portal after Jessica Drew and Miguel O’Hara with that exact mindset about you, staring at where an orange watch-like device is wrapped around your wrist.

It’s in your nature to be suspicious, and these people weren’t an exception to that.

In fact, their presence only heightened that behaviour. After all, what were you to expect from two Spider people, who supposedly came to you for your help?

You weren’t blind, you saw the aged lines of their faces the moment you got close enough to see them clearly, away from the dim lighting of the building. They were adults, adults who had clearly been doing this type of thing a lot longer than you had. You, who was barely bordering on adult, who had fought enough battles already to last a lifetime — so why would they need you?

It didn’t feel right.

And when this Miguel person summoned Lyla the moment you walked through the portal, it felt all the more wrong. She was a hologram of some kind, much higher tech than the kind of thing you saw on your earth. But then again, you had never really been in high tech labs back in your earth. Still, it unsettled you. “Lyla, get me the location of Green Goblin, Earth 5011.” He commanded, and they argued in hushed voices for a moment, before a wider hologram appeared, stamped at Earth 3899.

“How did she get to another universe?” You ask, then, because it doesn’t make sense, and you’re shaking underneath the thin material of your suit. You’re hyper aware of each drag of stitching against the wound on your leg, each patch of fabric you had sewn on in hopes of the suit lasting you just a little longer, because you didn’t have the resource to produce a new one.

“It’s an anomaly.” Jessica Drew tells you, her tone softer than you’d heard it, as if she was attempting to reassure you in some way.

It didn’t help. But how could it? The last time you had faced Gwen Stacy—Green Goblin— you had lost so much. It had been the beginning of the end of everything good in your life. The explosion she had caused at your mother’s laboratory was the very same one that killed her, the very same explosion that sent you and your dad miles apart all while living in the same home. And still, you found a way to hope that there was something to salvage within Gwen.

But not only had you lost your mother, and not long after — your father, you had also lost your closest friend. The one person you had confided in, who knew you from your surface to the deepest level, and she had used that against you the moment the Goblin had taken over.

It had taken everything in you to beat her, back then.

And that was on home turf! How did these people expect you to do that a second time, in a completely unfamiliar place?

“Specifics aren’t important right now. Jessica, you take Arachnid. Lyla, send another one of the teams.” Miguel instructed, dismissing your questions right off the bat. It was frustrating. They were leaving you completely in the dark, and sending you to fight the worst enemy you had ever faced, and they were sending you alongside others like you from different universes. It was like asking you to bare your soul in front of them, to reveal your secrets, your deepest regrets, everything that you wanted to stay buried.

You knew Green Goblin. You knew that’s exactly what she would do. She would undermine you, she would lay your life out in front of you like tiles on a scrabble board. In the end, none of it amounted to much.

Jessica Drew made her way out, glancing at you and nodding for you to follow along. Your moment of hesitation had drawn Miguel’s attention, and he called out to you after a moment of hesitation. “We’ve all faced one like it, kid. It’s easier with others.” He told you, though he held a pained expression on his face all the while. Instead of admitting to the way he had hit the nail right on the head, you simply nodded and followed after Spider-woman.

It was a whirlwind from there.

Meeting up with others. Travelling the length of the so-called Lobby to wherever it was that Jessica was taking you. When you finally arrived, she offered an empty glass box with a mannequin inside, bare. She gestured towards it like it should’ve been self explanatory, but soon realised she’d have to spell it out for you.

You shouldn’t have been so upset by the offer of a new suit.

But you were.

This suit was your life. You had nothing outside of it, not anymore. You couldn’t just throw it away, as if it meant nothing, as if every rip and patch and wonky stitch didn’t mean anything. These were proof that what you were doing was real, that it was worth something. Each stitch proved you had value. You weren’t about to throw all of that away, especially for whatever overly technical suit these people would provide.

You had everything you needed.

And so Jessica led you to the next destination: Earth 3899.

The moment you stepped through the portal, it was like you were hit with a wave of familiarity. And not in a positive, slightly nostalgic way, no— this was chaos. This was the state your world had been in when Green Goblin ran riot, unchecked. She had torn apart buildings, blown up parks, she had set New York City aflame. And she was doing exactly the same here.

It was more contained here than it had been on your earth, and you had to assume that was thanks to the Spider-man already on site, coordinating police, ambulance and fire responses to douse the fires as quickly as she set them. If only the police in your city had trusted you so much, back then.

“Where is she?” You ask, the moment you get close enough to speak to the resident Spider-man of the universe. He looks at you as if you’re familiar, but doesn’t comment, instead just pointing a finger toward a skyscraper just a short way ahead. You’re gone the moment he tells you where to go.

She had the uncanny ability to stay quiet. It had freaked you own back on your own earth, but it was even more terrifying here, where things were ever so slightly different.

“Arachnid.” Gwen’s voice called, and for a moment, you could forget. You could forget every horrible thing the Goblin had done, and you could remember your friend, your Gwen, who had called out to Arachnid more than once without knowing it was you behind the mask. Whether it was for a story or to provide information on your most recent opponent, the voice calling your alias was familiar. But then there was that crackle of laughter, an unnatural gurgle in the way it left her throat, and you turned to see the green-tinged pallor of her skin. “I was so hoping you’d show up.”

You didn’t know how much her appearance would effect you, until you were stuck to the side of the building, staring at what had once been your best friend. You’re so choked up that you can’t even formulate a response, because you want that to be Gwen so badly, but you know it isn’t. The more you look at her, the more Goblin you see, the more you know that the Gwen you love is never coming back.

“Nothing to say?” She asks, and then says your real name, the name she used to say down the crackle of a phone line, or across the school hallway, and she smiles. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“You should’ve stayed in prison, Gwen.” You say, your voice unsteady as you say her name aloud for the first time in what must be forever. She seems to relish in the tremble of your voice, and you have to curse yourself for being so stupid, for already showing the vulnerability she was so easily able to pick out.

The Green Goblin tutted at you, stood atop her glider, but the smile you saw didn’t belong to Gwen. “You’re pathetically predictable, you know. You’re like a moth to the flame.” She tells you, and you fear that she’s right, that you’re the same person you were back when you fought her, back when she almost won. She sighs, like something heavy is weighing upon her, but it turns wistful in the blink of an eye. “I’m just glad your dad isn’t here to see this. He’d be so disappointed.”

“Arachnid, focus.” Jessica’s voice interrupts, before you can spiral down that rabbit hole. How did Gwen even know about your father? She was in prison long before he died. It didn’t make sense.

“Maybe,” You say, that familiar tremble around your words. “He did always hope for the best for you.”

She bares her teeth at your words, the only visible reaction before her mask is slipping over the bottom of her face, stretching out up to pointed ears, all metallic and tinted a murky green. Then, she’s attacking.

It’s muscle memory, mostly, you think.

If you don’t think too hard about it, it could be like playing a game with a longtime friend from your childhood. You know the moves to make, you know how she’ll respond. It’s a constant push and pull, a balance which leaves only destruction behind, the path of the Green Goblin’s wrath tangible in each battle scene the two of you leave behind. You can’t beat her like this.

It’s her glitching that gives you a slight upper hand — and you send her careening off of her glider to the ground below.

Your heart squeezes suddenly in your chest as you watch her fall, her eyes wide in what could almost be perceived as fear. If you didn’t intervene, would she die? Would you have put an end to her story, once and for all, when you secretly hope there’s a cure out there for her? You can’t bear the thought of finding out, of watching her die, and so you foolishly dive after her.

A web to her midsection allows you to grip her before she hits the ground, and you set her down with a far more gentle hand than you would ever admit.

She says your name, then, a whispered version of it that sounds like Gwen. You think you can see her in those wide blue eyes, in that stare, and you approach with some caution. “Gwen,” You say, more of a question, “You with me?”

“I’m with you,” She answers, as you reach her side, as you resist the urge to pull off your mask. You’re so preoccupied staring at her expression that you don’t see the blade until it’s too late, your Spidey-sense failing you as you wallowed in your search for someone who was gone. “You sweet, predictable bug.” She spits then, twisting the blade she had sunk deep into your side, and you writhe, trying to move away from her.

“Arachnid!” Jessica Drew calls out, drawing the Green Goblin’s attention, allowing you to pull away from her slackened grasp. You leave the blade where it is, knowing your only slightly enhanced healing wouldn’t make up for the onslaught of blood that would pour from the wound. “I think that’s enough, Green Goblin.” Jessica says, riding a motorbike that you swore she didn’t have earlier. Nonetheless, she uses it to put even more space between you and your villain.

“You need a hand, kid?” A new voice asks, and a gloved hand reaches out for you where you had knelt against the tarmac. You look up, seeing a new Spider-man, but this one has his mask up, showing off his aged face and the bags underneath his eyes. You wave him off, staggering up to your feet, and clench your jaw as you stare at Green Goblin, watch as she pulls bombs from her waistband, barely the size of a chocolate bar, but capable of causing irreparable damage. “Get back to HQ, Arachnid, we can handle this.” Spider-man tells you, in what you suspect to be a fatherly voice, but you ignore him.

Time flies, slips out of your grasp, and you don’t know how long you and the others spend fighting Green Goblin, but she proves to be just as difficult of a foe for them to face as she was for you. Each time the three of you manage to get the drop on her, she slips away before she could be caught. It’s frustrating, and you can even see the way irritation thickens in the air, tangible.

Spider-man, or Peter, as Jessica had called him, is with you, focusing on trying to take Green Goblin down, whilst Jessica Drew is focused on damage control, blowing up Gwen’s bombs before they could hit their intended targets. You’re pretty sure the resident Spider-man is around here, too, pulling any lingering citizens out of harms way before Green Goblin could end them. You’d admit, it works better than you had done alone back on your own earth.

But it doesn’t work well enough, and more than one building is damaged almost beyond repair, and in the dust and rubble, Peter was distracted by the few citizens poking their heads out of the gaping hole in the side of their apartments. He didn’t see Green Goblin coming until it was too late, until she had thrown two of her bombs, one towards him, and one towards the already wrecked building.

Your throat dries up as you try to figure out what to do, who to go for, but in the end, you don’t have to choose.

Beams of glowing orange webs shoot into the bombs where they arc towards their victims, blowing them up and leaving both Peter and the civilians in the apartments without a scratch on any of them. Well, nothing that wasn’t already there before. You see him then, running alongside Jessica Drew, none other than Miguel O’Hara — who clearly didn’t think that the three of you were capable of handling Green Goblin.

“We’ve gotta end this.” Peter tells the three of you, glaring over at Green Goblin after coming so close to one of her bombs.

“You distract, I’ll go in.” You say, the only plan that makes sense. The only plan that’ll work. You wouldn’t be much use as a distraction, not with the blood still pooling around the blade hanging from your side, but you could beat her. You knew you could.

Peter nodded, and he, Jessica and Miguel went in one after another, landing hits on Green Goblin before she could even think to withdraw another bomb, or land a hit of her own, whilst you made your way behind her, swinging as high as you dared to go in your state. She was getting angry, you could tell, a distinct flush rushing up the back of her neck, a tell that Green Goblin shared with Gwen.

It was only when she was starting to turn the tide that you jumped down from your spot against the side of a building, looking for your opening.

She sent Jessica Drew tumbling off of her motorbike, which was your chance.

Green Goblin heard you only a moment before you were on her, not giving her a chance to make a countermove. Instead, you were curling your arms around her, as tight as you could, holding her hands away from her waistband. You gripped the blade in your side and yanked it out, holding it to her chest, breathing heavily through the pain as you bared your teeth at her, her face beside your own.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You say, and try not to hear the pleading in your own voice, the distinctive tone of a beg. You may have the upper hand on her, but as always, she had the power. “Don’t.” You repeat, because you can feel it in your bones that you would do it. If it was the choice between her or the hundreds that she would kill on this world, it would be those hundreds. There was no doubt about it, no questions to be asked.

You may have resented your mother, but she wasn’t the only one who died because of the Green Goblin. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

Perhaps she heard the plea in your voice, the giveaway that you weren’t bluffing, because she went still in your arms, still enough for the other Spiders to approach with some caution, eyes on her hands where you held them away from any weapons, using your forearm connected to the hand holding the blade to her chest to keep her left hand from grasping anything.

“I won’t be asking again.” You tell her, which is as much of a threat as you can muster. Or, more so, a promise.

As Miguel pushed you back with a firm hand, throwing a machine at Gwen’s feet, you think she understands. If the two of you are ever in that position again, there will be no hesitation about it. You will kill her.

“Good work, kid.” Peter says as Miguel and Jessica get to work with getting your Green Goblin through a portal to the HQ. He glanced down at where your hand is now pressing into your side, blood pouring steadily. In your other hand, you still hold the blade that had pierced your own skin, that would have killed Gwen Stacy had she not surrendered. He winces as if it’s him who got hurt, and guides you through the portal after the others. “C’mon, we’ll get you checked out. You not got enhanced healing?” He asks, though you suspect he doesn’t expect you to answer, and you’re glad.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“I can do this myself, you know.” You sigh, wincing as a Spider-man — who apparently is also a doctor and works in the Spider Society’s infirmary — stitches up the wound on your midsection. It’s uncomfortable, though less painful that when you do it yourself. Still, it’s uncomfortable to accept help from these strangers.

“Ooh, shouldn’t say that to him.” Peter B. Parker laughs, one of the many Peter Parkers of the Society, but the same one who had fought Green Goblin with you. “He’ll lecture you on proper healthcare for days if you give him the opportunity!”

The Spider-doctor glares at Peter, or you assume he does, from the slight squint of the lenses of his mask. He kisses his teeth under the mask, tutting, muttering about “Spiders and their complete disregard for their health. Lucky you haven’t died ten times over from infections.” But he doesn’t say anything that requires a response from you, and he soon finished up the stitches. He goes to offer to fix up the injury on your ankle, but you’re up on your feet before he can even get the words out.

“Now, I gotta get back home to the wife, but Miguel wants to see you. He’ll take you home,” Peter tells you as he walks out of the infirmary by your side, but he stops you in the hallway with a hand on your shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “If that’s what you want.”

Your eyebrows furrowed before you could stop them, and the confusion over his words must’ve been written all over your face.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” You ask, defensively.

Peter opens his mouth, but nothing escapes. Instead, it’s his expression that tells you everything he’s thinking. The crease between his brows screams pitying, or sympathetic. He’s talking about the way you live back on your earth, about the life you lead, Arachnid by day, and by night. With no room for you, no room for your secret identity. He’s thinking of the way you’ll be returning to a world with nobody awaiting you, with not a soul to look out for you, to stitch you up after a battle. Nobody but yourself, anyway.

You pull away from him, brows furrowing further, into an almost angered expression, and you don’t watch the way his hand falls away from your shoulder back to his side. He sighs when you turn away, scoffing as you make your way through the hallways of the Lobby towards where you think Miguel will be.

It’s overwhelming, all of these people. They all believe that they know you, that they know your circumstances, your story, but the truth is that they don’t. Nobody does, and that’s the way you prefer it. You don’t need a Society of Spiders surrounding you, breathing down your neck, telling you they’re sorry, or not trusting you to handle yourself in your own fights, because you can handle yourself. You’ve spent the last year of your life trying to prove that, trying to prove that you can do good things, that you’re worthy of the title Arachnid. You certainly shouldn’t need to prove that to a whole Society of people like you, most of which had been doing the job a lot longer.

You’re capable and you’re content.

You don’t need a life as your secret identity to be content, in fact, it’s better without one. You don’t have to tell so many lies, don’t have to worry about hurting the people you love, because there are none of them left. There’s nobody to hurt, and there’s nobody to lie to. Why would you want to change that?

The hallway ahead looks familiar, and you follow it until you enter a room where Miguel stands, looking at orange tinted screens on a platform halfway up the room. You enter with the absolute certainty that you want to return to your own earth, and you’re not going to let anybody stop you.

“I’m ready.” You tell him, expectantly.

He scoffs, saying nothing, still staring at the screens in front of him. For whatever reason, the reaction makes you angry — inexplicably so. You’re slinging up to the platform before you can have a second thought about it, and you’re pushing his shoulder so he’ll face you, so he’ll acknowledge you.

He stares at you, unimpressed.

“Send me back to my earth.” You press, brows furrowed beneath your mask, but you’re sure he can see the anger in the way your shoulders tense up.

“Sure,” Miguel said blankly, staring at you as if you’d suddenly change your mind or something. “But you know, there’s a lot more like her.” He added on when you said nothing, waiting for him to send you back to your world so you could give him back the stupid watch still wrapped around your wrist.

You stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “There are no more like her.” You respond, feeling that hot press on your chest. You don’t want to talk about Gwen Stacy anymore than you’re sure he’d like to talk about whatever he had gone through in his life. Hell, you don’t even want to think about her, but you know that nobody else you would ever have to face would hurt you in the way that she did. In the way that having to see her as an enemy, rather than your friend, had hurt. So, yeah, there was nobody like her, not for you.

Miguel seems ready to let you go for a moment, but then he’s shaking his head at you. “You have a place here. You can be with people like you. You don’t have to do this alone, anymore.” He says, and you think that is ironic, because you don’t see anybody else in here. To you, it seems like he is doing exactly that; doing the job alone. You can practically see the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I prefer being alone.” You tell him, and it has to be true. It has to be.

His jaw sets, acceptance, you think, and he nods. He glances past you, to where a portal was open on the floor below. Considering that you hadn’t seen him set up the portal, you’d wager that his AI Lyla must’ve listened in and done it for him. You pull the watch off of your wrist, relishing in the way your very atoms seem to sag with the weight of being in another dimension.

“Thanks.” You say, and drop down, landing on your sore ankle but not murmuring a word about the pain. You walk back to your world with your head held high, despite your tattered suit and multitude of wounds that would take days to stop hurting.

Miguel stares after you as the portal closes, eyebrows furrowed. He barely acknowledges Jessica Drew’s arrival in the room, already having known she had been lingering in the hallway, listening in. “Well, that went well.” She comments, glancing between where the portal had been and where Miguel stands, brooding. She knows how much pressure he puts on himself, and she knows that he cares about each and every Spider-person in the multiverse. It doesn’t take a Spider-sense to see the way in which you struggle. It’s a familiar struggle, sure, but there were so many Spiders across the multiverse who had a shoulder to lean on in their hardest times. Who did you have? There was no Aunt May for Arachnid, or Gwen Stacy, or Harry Osborne, or, well, anybody.

Jessica thinks that if anybody were to know exactly how that felt, it would be Miguel.

[pinknightsinmymind]

CANON and the morning sex part? maybe some slow messy ✂️ ? nah i'm on my knees throbbing shaking and all

【 mornings - abby anderson | NSFW 】

abby anderson x fem!reader

MDNI NSFW CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

wc: 2.8k

content: established relationship, top!abby, bottom!reader, some soft dom!abby, morning sex, you and abby are very much in love, fingering(r!receiving), scissoring, lots of praise, slight body worship, use of pet names(princess, baby, love, etc.), kinda possessive abs, abby teases you a lot, slight exhibitionism (can you call it that? she wants you to be loud enough for other ppl to hear), nipple play for like one second, not choking per say but abby just has her hand on your neck at one point, cuddling/spooning, i think that's about it? this is pretty tame and kinda cute despite being smut lol

a/n: now wait a minute bc..... you got me thinking.... i got so carried away with this😭😭😭 enjoy!!! also for this fic let's all collecitvely imagine abby's morning voice bc i bet it's so sexy😵‍💫

Abby has always been a morning person by nature. Maybe it’s because of all the times she’d get up early with her father, or because of her training as a soldier for the WLF—either ways, she’s an early riser through and through. That’s why it’s no surprise when she wakes up before you, both for convenience and for her own selfish reasons. Those reasons being, namely, that she loves having the extra time to admire you before you wake up. To Abby, there’s nothing like the beauty and the sanctity of waking up next to you every morning. There’s something sacred about it, a preciousness that belongs only to you and her. You’re here in her arms, safe, loved and cared for by her, and she’d have it no other way.

Your head is resting comfortably on your pillow, having rolled over onto your back at some point in the night. The sheets crinkle underneath Abby’s body as she turns to lay on her side because she’s set on taking in the sight of you. She can’t help it; her mornings don’t feel complete until she has. She pushed your shared blanket off her body, but she accidentally uncovered your torso in the process. She adjusted it a little for you, knowing just how much you like to stay under the covers while you sleep. As you continue to snooze, she takes this time to memorize your face, to see the moles decorating your body, the way your eyebrows are so relaxed while you sleep. You look so at peace, and it reminds her why she works so hard in the first place: to keep you safe. You mean everything to her, the whole world, even, and she’d do anything to protect you. That’s why she takes her job so seriously, why she does all the tasks Isaac assigns her, why she clears so many Infected out on patrol, why she keeps an eye out for Scars like she does. It’s all so you can live in a somewhat safer world.

After admiring you for what feels like forever—because she wishes this could last forever, just you and her safe in bed, your own little world—her hand starts to rub your stomach, caressing your sides, her hand coming up to graze your cheek. Right now she can’t help but remember you’re not wearing anything underneath her t-shirt, and the thought excites her. She remembered watching you slip it on over your naked body after making love last night, and how a part of her was sad she could no longer see every curve, every mark, every inch of your skin. Just thinking about how pretty every portion of your body looks underneath that shirt has her head spinning already. She grabbed onto your waist, pulling you into her, but you ended up rolling over onto your side. Abby doesn’t mind, though, and assumes her role of big spoon so she can rub your sides and your stomach even more.

You may be laying on her left arm, but that doesn’t stop Abby’s ability to caress your body. Her free hand roams over your body gently, so contrary to the scary image many people have of her in their heads. So much destruction has been done by her hands, but when she touches you, it’s like she’s never torn anything apart in her life. It’s like for once she has the capacity to care for something, like she’s not who she used to be, like that version of herself never existed. She’s never cared for anyone as much as she has for you, maybe the last person being her father. When she holds you, when her hands touch your body, she feels like she has the hands of a farmer or a painter, because those are people who know how to nurture, how to grow, how to care. That’s something she’s always desperately wanted to do, but she didn’t know how, not until she met you. All it took was one look into your eyes for her to learn, because suddenly she knew just what it meant to want to protect someone and look after them.

It’s after the caresses that she starts kissing your neck and your face, peppering them all over your skin. This is when you start to wake up, familiar with the routine Abby has set after many mornings together, one you never dislike fulfilling. When you start to stir, that’s when Abby finally speaks.

“Morning, princess,” she whispers. You hum in response, still half-asleep and barely batting away your grogginess. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too, Abs.” Your voice is still rough with sleep like Abby’s, and you find yourself rubbing the hand she has nestled over your stomach. So touchy, you think.

“Look so pretty this morning,” she whispers into your neck. You feel her breath fanning against your skin, and you shiver a little.

“And I didn’t look pretty yesterday morning?” you tease her.

“No, you definitely did,” she says. “You just get prettier each morning.” Her hand moved from your stomach to your sides, rubbing them before sliding down to your hips. She rubs lazy circles there with her thumb as her lips resume kissing your neck. Her kisses are so soft and gentle, and you sigh a little bit as you melt into her touch. Her kisses continue until you feel her move her arm underneath you to slide her hand underneath your t-shirt, skirting over the warmth of your skin until they meet your breasts. Your body feels like it’s on fire with her hands on your skin, and that heat goes straight to your center. A small whine leaves your lips when you feel her start to play with one of your nipples.

“Abs,” you whisper.

“What’s the matter?” she asks, delivering a particularly harsh pinch to your nipple. You let out a loud whimper at the feeling. “Do you need me like I need you?” she asks. Her voice is lower and more gravelly than usual after waking up, and the sound of it has you feeling weak. You nod your head quickly as her hand comes down to grope your ass. “Words, princess.”

“Yes,” you hiss. “Need you bad.” Abby lifts up your leg and places her hand over your cunt. Her fingers just move through your folds, not really touching you how you need, but moving them gingerly to tease you and feel how wet you are. It’s like she’s just trying to feel that you’re there.

“All this for me?” she asks. You say nothing, caught up in how desperate you feel for her touch. You feel hot and bothered and you just hurt. You want her to touch you more and end the anticipation already, but Abby has other ideas. She stops moving her hands through your wetness and instead lets it rest there, cupping you. She removes her other hand from your breasts and rests it on the base of your neck. She doesn’t squeeze, and instead just holds it there firmly. “I thought we went over this, love. Answer me when I talk to you.”

“It’s all for you, Abs,” you whimper. She moves again, satisfied with your answer. “Want you inside.”

“Really, baby? So early in the morning?”

“I just need you,” you answer.

“So desperate for me,” she mutters. You were going to respond, to tell her how mean she was, but you found your words being swallowed when you finally felt one of her fingers insert themselves. You moaned as you felt her fill you up, moving slowly and languidly. She knew how to make the moment last forever, how to make you beg for more. You moaned again as you felt her finger curl inside you, hitting the spot just where you needed her. She chuckled lowly in your ear after hearing your sounds. She loved making you feel good, knowing you were hers to pleasure like this.

“You’re all mine,” she said assertively. “All mine to touch like this. You understand?” She knew you did. You were as devoted to her as she was with you, but she loved to hear it from your lips.

“Yes,” you answer. “I’m all yours. Feels so good.”

“I know it does,” she replied, inserting another finger. A small yelp left your lips at the sudden intrusion, your brain immediately going hazy and filled with pleasure. You found yourself shamelessly moaning with each move of her fingers, one of your hands reaching up to hold onto the one she had on your neck. She moved it from its spot on your skin and laced her fingers through yours as she continued hammering into you with her fingers.

“Keep making those pretty sounds, princess,” she commanded. “I want everyone in the base to hear you. I want them to know it’s me making you feel this good.”

“Oh, fuck, Abs,” you groaned. You wanted to tell her how good she was making you feel, but all that was coming out of your lips were incoherent mumbles. Abby couldn’t help the smirk that grew on her face hearing you fail to speak.

“Yeah? Making you feel that good?” she teased. You poor thing. Just fucked so dumb you can’t even speak, and done all by her. It was an ego boost, but it also made her feel good. Hearing your moans and being able to tell you were feeling good made her wetter by the second. Her own cunt was aching, and it was all for you.

“Abby,” you whined. You could feel your stomach tightening as she continued to hit that spot deep within you that made you go crazy. She knew what she was doing—she always did. She knew your body so well, knew just what it took to make you come apart when she was fucking you. “I’m close.”

“Look at you. Cumming on my fingers already?” You only whimpered in response. “Yeah, keep going, love. Cum all over my fucking fingers.” She quickened her pace, the sound of her fingers pumping into your wetness echoing through the room. You couldn’t help as the loud moan left your lips once you climaxed, the feeling overtaking you and every single one of your senses. It was like disappearing for a moment, swallowed by the white hot pleasure all over your body. Abby removed her fingers from you, grabbing onto your body and turning you to face her. Her lips were on yours faster than you expected, but you gladly returned her kiss. Her hands grabbed onto your shirt and pulled you even closer into her body. She was so desperate and hungry for you, and you were just what she needed to cure the ache between her legs.

“Need to feel you,” she whimpered against your lips. “Want to feel you against me.”

“Fuck,” you whined. “I want to make you feel good, Abs.”

Abby removed her lips from yours and sat up in bed, and you followed her actions. She pulled her boxers and her tank top off, then leaned over and pulled your shirt over your head. That only ignited the aching she felt further as she leaned in close to your body and began kissing you, her hands roaming over your skin, touching you anywhere she could. She loved to admire your naked body like the work of art it was, and she could never get enough of it. As she scooted closer to you, she spread your legs apart as she settled her own between them. When she was finally close enough, she could feel your warm skin on hers, your wetness coating her own. She let out a small groan at the contact as she grabbed onto your leg to her right and started grinding against you.

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned. She could feel your clit rubbing against hers, and it was driving her crazy. You were still sensitive after your previous orgasm, and it just made your pleasure intensify. She was grinding against you slowly, taking her time with you, staring so deep into your eyes as she did so. The intensity of her gaze turned you on even more, which you didn’t even think was possible.

“Abs,” you whimpered. Her eyes didn’t leave your face as she watched your expressions twist with every emotion you felt. Lust, love, pleasure—she loved to see it all on your face.

“Love having you like this, baby,” she grunted. “All desperate for me. You like it when I make love to you like this, huh?” Her hips kept that same slow, steady rhythm against yours, and you could feel yourself getting lost in the feeling of her against you, the sounds of your wetness echoing in the room.

“Yeah,” you answered her. You knew she’d punish you if you didn’t, and you couldn’t stand to be punished at a time like this. Not when you were feeling so good. You made eye contact with her again, her gaze boring into you and every part of you as she continued her movements. Her eyes were half-lidded as she stared at you, something wild and full of lust taking over her gaze. Feeling her watch you made it all feel even better. You felt like your body was overwhelmed with pleasure, the only thought in your head being Abby. Her name kept being repeated in your head, just Abby, Abby, Abby, and you found yourself muttering it outloud, too. Abby kept grinding her cunt against yours, and with each movement of her hips you were both losing yourselves deeper into one another. You met every thrust of her hips with your own, and it caused moans to slip out of each of your lips. The feeling was just so heavenly in a way you couldn’t put into words.

“Feel so good against me, baby, fuck,” she moaned. She was always the dominant one, always the one in charge, but whenever she got overstimulated like this, she started to lose her cool. Abby was doing her best to maintain the image she usually did, to stay in control, but she was faltering. You could both tell from the whimpers uncontrollably leaving her lips. “So–so good,” she groaned. “I–fuck,” she cursed. If there was a higher power, you had to have been sent to her by it. There was no worldly explanation for why she was blessed with someone as good as you, how she came to love and be loved by a real life angel.

“I want you to cum on me, Abs,” you whimpered. “Use me to cum. Just fuck me,” you begged. Abby let out a grunt at your words and immediately picked up the pace of her hips against yours. That sent you both over the edge as you both got much louder from the sudden sensations. You did your best to reach her pace, but Abby’s hips were moving much faster than yours, so much so she was starting to get messy. She was doing exactly as you asked, not sparing a moment to pause as she chased her orgasm. She was so close, and she knew that she would unravel soon as she was already coming undone. The whimpers leaving her lips were so pathetic, but she just felt so good she couldn’t help it.

“You’re so good to me,” she moaned. “Letting me fuck you like this. Shit.” She could feel her climax approaching, the heat in her stomach overtaking both her mind and body. “You’re—Fuck. Gonna cum.” She grinded her hips against yours a few more times and that’s when she felt her orgasm overtake her. She let out a choked moan at the sudden pleasure, but she kept grinding against you regardless. She wanted you to cum again, to cum with you. You found your eyes filling up with tears at the pleasure you felt, still so sensitive from earlier. The sensitivity made it hurt a little, but it just felt so good.

“Fuck, fuck, Abby,” you moaned, feeling it all finally wash over you. Abby kept grinding against you until your orgasm finally ran its course, then stopped. Both of you were catching your breath with heaving chests, staring at each other in post-orgasm awe. You could feel your body was sticky with sweat—and probably other fluids—but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You collapsed onto the pillows behind you, Abby following suit as she pulled your bare body close to hers. Abby felt so tired and like she could pass out within seconds, but her tendencies as a clean freak were stronger than her sleepiness.

“You wanna take a shower?” she asked. You shook your head, snuggling further into Abby’s chest.

“No. Just wanna lay here with you for a while.”

“But you will shower with me later, right?” she asked again.

You hummed in response. “Yeah. But right now I just wanna cuddle with you.”

“Fair enough, love,” she said. She wrapped her arms around you tightly, the one place she liked to keep you the best.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

is there anywhere that in game that says the Mc is the same age as the other first years?? I've been seeing a lot of discourse like "yuu can't do this/be shipped with that person bc they're like 16!!" (for ships this mostly refers to malleus, leona, and lilia)

but I don't remember anything that specifically indicates this? people argue its because they're in first year, but there are canon instances of people enrolling late/being older than their classmates. I was always under the impression that yuu was dropped with the first years regardless of age.

idk I've seen a lot of people get into stupid arguments lately, acting like other people's mc's are a crime bc they're like 17 or 18 (or god forbid 19, even though leona is 20 and there are other... complicated ages).

sorry, this ended up a lot longer than I meant for it to

I think many do assume that Yuu is 16 since they’re in class 1-A and hang out primarily with first year students. However, there is nothing in the game that states Yuu is 16 or has to be (similar to the vagueness about their gender); it’s probably left open-ended so players can imagine their own “Yuus”. As mentioned by the asker, there is variation in the age of canon students (Leona, Lilia, Malleus, etc.)—and even in the Yuus featured in official TWST materials, such as 17 year old Yuuka Hirasaka from the Episode of Savanaclaw manga. I feel it’s pretty pointless to argue over Yuu being “canonically” 16 or which Yuus are and aren’t “allowed” to exist since the game itself is set up in a way that encourages using your imagination to come up with whatever kind of Yuu you want.

More likely, Yuu is lumped into a first year class for reasons other than age. Firstly, they are “half of a student” with Grim, who is starting out his magical studies as a first year student. The two need to stick together—they “complete” one another. Secondly, first year classes center on theory and are basically the only ones Yuu is able to take. The higher level classes require the practical application of magic. Grim is not to that level yet and Yuu is incapable of meeting those magical demands.

Mmm, I think that’s about all I have to say on this matter? I’m afraid I don’t care to delve too deeply into the shipping discourse mentioned—though I do understand being frustrated with fans policing and attacking others’ creations 💦 My advice is to just enjoy your own slice of the fandom rather than letting bad apples ruin your experience.

[ecoterrorist-katara]

I have been thinking a lot about blood bending lately and why the writers decided to go with the storyline of it being banned. I personally do not think it should have been. Like any bending form it can be used for awful things or it could be used for great things (my first thought is always in a medical sense but I’m sure there are other uses). And then I started to wonder if part of why they did that is bc that storyline was connected to Katara more than anyone else, and maybe this was a way to sideline her/focus more on Korra and the new gang instead of exploring with the older characters along with the new ones. But I was wondering if you had any thoughts on it!

hi anon! Sorry for getting to your ask a little late. I was at music camp (okay it’s a professional development program for musicians but I think of it as music camp in an effort to remind myself to have fun) and it was a big challenge since I’m chronically ill and needed a whole apothecary of meds to get through it. (I’m fine now! But needed to pace very carefully before & after and therefore stayed away from Tumblr)

It’s absolutely weird to me that bloodbending is singled out in a world where people can literally steal breath from one’s lungs, but it’s even weirder to me that they had a whole “ban bloodbending” storyline and sidelined Katara, because like…in what world would Katara feel strongly enough about bloodbending to ban it, yet do nothing to enforce the ban? The only explanation that makes sense is that she banned it because she was so ashamed, and stayed away from all the stuff around Yakone et al because she couldn’t bear to be reminded of what she’d done. And like all interpretations of canon Katara in LOK, that is just horribly heartbreaking.

I don’t begrudge the creators for wanting LOK to be about the new generation and I don’t mind seeing the Gaang play second fiddle. But I do object to the creators putting Katara in these situations where she could something in her wheelhouse, that’s in-character with her skills and ambitions, that is in line with her cultural impact as a role model for girls…and then sidelining her. Yakone is a big example, obviously, but so is Katara’s lack of involvement in the Civil War, the Red Lotus kidnapping, etc.

Like you said, bloodbending is useful in terms of the medical implications, but I also think it’s a humane tool in battle as long as it’s only used to incapacitate and not control. I can’t think of many better ways of incapacitating an enemy without causing serious damage (it’s even more efficient than chi-blocking!). If a bloodbender can stop encroaching enemies in their tracks with a flick of their wrist — well, that actually seems more humane than freezing them into ice cubes, which is the go-to waterbender move. I mean, Katara stops Hama with bloodbending in The Puppetmaster; she doesn’t actually control Hama with it. It’s terrible to override people’s bodily autonomy and make them do things they don’t want to do, but that is a very specific use of bloodbending.

I do think, though, that Katara is not the type of person to recognize all the other potential uses of bloodbending unless someone prompts her, and unfortunately that person is not going to be Aang. It doesn’t help that Katara’s first experience with bloodbending is being stripped of her own agency; similarly, it becomes her go-to weapon when she encounters (she thinks) the person who made her feel the most powerless in her life. To Katara, bloodbending is about taking power from someone else…and on her own, she’s not likely to see other applications. Katara is an excellent fighter with a lot of raw power, finesse, and creativity, but she’s not actually all that in-tune with her element, and I think that’s another reason she was never very interested in healing in canon (Katara and waterbending could be a whole other meta). Katara would’ve been an equally excellent bender no matter which element she wields, unlike Toph and Aang, who are uniquely suited to their elements. Katara borrows a lot from the more aggressive forms of bending (fire and earth): grabs people with water tentacles, hits them with ice disks, overwhelms them with big waves. For all that waterbending is about going with the flow and using the opponent’s strengths against them, Katara doesn’t exactly exemplify that philosophy (unlike Aang, btw, who is more intuitive as a waterbender than she is; that is why he picked it up more quickly at the beginning). She addresses all her problems head-on and is more likely to meet them with raw power than anything else. If I were to guess her astrological placements, she’d be an Aries Mars, minimum, if not an Aries Sun as well (she’d be a Cancer Moon though…I have Thoughts on ATLA astrology lmao).

Anyway, all this to say: I don’t think Katara would’ve thought of the healing implications of bloodbending on her own, when she’s already been traumatized by it, and that’s pretty tragic tbh. I like the Zutara interpretation of Zuko inspiring Katara to think there are other uses for bloodbending (as a wielder of a potentially destructive element), but I think Toph could’ve had a conversation with her about other uses for bloodbending as well, since Toph is really creative with earth. Actually, I think Zuko or Toph or Sokka could’ve all had a conversation with Katara about coming to terms about doing things that one is not proud of & moving past them, but I guess Katara can only follow the rigid moral code of her Do No Wrong boyfriend. Anyway, LOK’s despicable treatment of ATLA’s female characters is nothing new, but Katara’s is the most obvious and egregious because she’s actually there. We have no idea what happened to Suki or Azula or Mai or Ty Lee, and what we do see from Toph is not great either (in what world would she retire to be lonely in a swamp when having her friends meant the world to her…). All the boys got to have cool fulfilling lives and all the girls who aren’t lost to history are sad sacks, thanks Bryke! On a non-sarcastic note, thank you anon for such an interesting question!

[gladiatorcunt]

you nailed how i imagined modern!feyd to be (batshit crazy) but you think he‘d let cute hello kitty reader put like stickers and bows on his motorcycle and stuff lmao? would he be an ass and be mean about it or would he allow it because reader is all sad and mopey otherwise 😔🎀 (maybe brat reader? like how would mans handle that in the modern au because in the canon verse pissing him off is a bit too scary) and alsoooo i laughed my ass off when you wrote he would debone coryo like a fish because yuh that twink (he could do bad things to me) wouldn’t stand a chance fr

he would actually make coryo so concerned, like they’re both from well off families (feyd just does underground fighting bc for the #love of the game) but coryo will be like “these poor people are CRAZY.” coryo gives off the vibes of he’d tell someone to kill for him (especially when he gets older, or he wouldn’t get his hands dirty if he does it himself & he’s methodical), feyd is tearing out throats with his teeth. he’d tackle his uncle and start stabbing, he’d gnaw his own arm off just for fun like you can’t compete where you don’t compare tbh. (coryo’s still my bf tho <3)

anyway,

cw: 18+ mdni, typical feyd warnings, spanking/pain play type stuff

modern!feyd would only let you put stickers on his bike if they’re the ones that are like hello kitty holding a gun or something. it’s not like he’s afraid that the softer ones will undermine his masculinity or anything, feyd’s ripping into other men with no real regard for keeping their bodies intact, it’s just that the cutesy stickers go on his helmet. he’ll let you tie a ribbon around his bicep and film videos of him flexing and making it pop off. he would wear matching pjs with you, but he doesn’t want to get blood on them so he sticks to his trusty sweats. he’s the kind of person to wear black in the hot summer sun because he’s spiteful enough to not give a fuck about heatstroke, like it’s something he could fight lmao. gets a matching dear daniel x hello kitty tattoo with you i fear, or a my melody x kuromi one since that’s more your dynamic.

brat!reader with canon era feyd does scare me to death, but with modern!feyd it’s fun to think about…. to a degree. like if you keep it up, he’s pausing the match and dragging you inside the ring to spank you in front of everyone. open palm strikes with half of his strength, if he used all of it your ass might fall off. his rings add even more sting. you learn quickly to know when to pack it up and throw in the towel, because he will NEVER be the one to test out your devious little ideas and macinations out on. he’ll shove a vibrator up your pussy and take you for a long ride on his bike, ignoring the way you try to hump him as he points out the sights he thinks you’d be interest in. weirdly punishes you by fucking nice and slow when you want your shit rocked, he doesn’t even edge you or anything, he just gives it you so soft and sweet and holds your hips down so you can’t try to buck them.

in some ways, you being at his matches has helped his abilities. (you do have to come to his fights btw, if you’re not there expect the rumble of his engine to be heard outside of wherever you’re at. feyd will get his unlce to cancle the match if you’re not there, he’s ultimately a certain kind of performer and if the key audience member isn’t there??? what’s the point.) he has to keep an eye on you, which helps him multitask. he’ll be punching some fuckin’ loser into an unrecognizable pulp while, out of the corner of his eye, making sure that no one’s trying to drag you into any wagers or into their cars. he’s curious if you could cum just from watching one of his fights, from hearing the agonized whimpers of his opponent as feyd effortlessly conquers them. something about you must be sick, because the more ruthless he is in a fight, the higher you’re jumping on him and the more marks you’re sucking into his neck.

you’re so clumsy with it, always putting too much teeth into your hickeys. but that’s just the way he likes it, because you know he’s actively holding back from biting you so hard that’s nearly cannibalizing you. (side note: loves gorey horror, nothing too funny or artsy, he likes shit that cares more about the pure carnage than quips or wide camera shots. hannibal is too “fancy” for him, he always asks you to explain what the fuck they’re talking about.) definition of mauling you like a bear, fucking him is like meeting God if they were an eldritch horror and you were on the brink of death. it is NOT for the weak, his thick arms holding you in a headlock as he pistons his gigantic cock into your cervix. he makes you cum until pass out, then he makes you do it again to wake you up. really good at resetting your brain if you need him too.

modern!feyd who gives you the ultimate scary guard dog priviledge. you’re going about your business in a store and he’s practically vibrating behind you, foaming at the mouth and waiting for some mf to try it with you so he can berserk. but no one ever takes the bait, just one look at his deranged ass and they’re swiftly turning on their heels and high tailing it out of the apple store (you’re taking too long to pick what color imac you want.) copies whatever pictures you saw on pinterest, acting as your little prop. wrapping a tattooed hand around your throat, mirror selfies where he’s holding you over his shoulder by your ass, gross close ups of his long tongue wrapped around yours, insta stories directed at paul specficially bc he won’t stay out of your dms. asks his opponents for date ideas while he’s beating their ass 💀, made his uncle organize a remartch (even though feyd won) with the guy who limped over to your adorably clad in pink form and asked you to get boba (because he noticed feyd giving you your favorite before his fights).

pierced dick, would sharpen his teeth and make his tongue forked. face tattoos + whatever piercing’s more painful. big in body mods overalls like he sees himself as an extension of his motorcycle that he’s always illeggaly modding, fast and furious type specs that no court of law would deem road safe. but he always devotes part of his brain to making sure you’re safe when you ride along with him, reaching behind him and his black painted nails rubbing comforting little circles into your plush thighs. ambidextrous by choice and practice, for sure has a cauliflower ear. whenever you’re sad and pouting, he’s grabbing your chin in between his thumb an pointer finger and lifting your head up so he lovingly teases you about being a crybaby and so he can lick your tears away. (and he doesn’t even do it with sexual intent, feyd’s genuinely just trying to consume your sadness directly since word’s aren’t his strong suit.) could fall asleep in an ice bath, has done it before, dad type snoring like you wouldn’t believe.

loves it when you ride him in any kind of water, you have to pack extra strength sun screen if you’re going to be out in the sun though bc he WILL burn more often than not. still has your pussy gorilla glue gripping his length though, there’s no pain on earth that would put him out of comission & that’s a promise.

[fuumiku]

Chilcille huh... ngl I was a little suspicious. like why would you do that, huh... hope youre not mischaracterizing anyone in your weird and wacky ship. a little weird. but then you said they both had flat asses and you know what? I salute you and your perfect characterization

The fact you seem to think you managed to not make this ask insulting is baffling. What the hell. Fuck off.

If you actually care to be open minded about the ship, I talk about marchil on my sideblog 24/7. Funnily enough I’m currently 4k words deep into an analysis of their character arc together in canon, but that’ll take some more days to get done. Some notable posts:

Of course without counting the analyses of Chilchuck on his own I’ve made, like my masterpost on his family situation. Or better yet you could also read my fics for them, see how weird and wacky they are here.

Wanna talk about mischaracterisation? They’re literally a comedic duo who interacts 24/7. Marchil is crazy bc ppl are like "did those shipper read with their eyes CLOSED?? They have no chemistry!" Meanwhile canon is like: "She’s obsessed with knowing everything she can about him and she reads him like a book." In her eyes he’s like that extra rare and hard and shiny unlockable dating sim character, that brooding mysterious character trope that’s thrilling to crack open and typically is at the center of the plot. The wife roleplay???? "Hey, did you know his type is blondes. Hey did you know he likes his women pretty and blonde. Hey did you know he likes her hair. Hey did you know that he teases her 24/7 and it’s one of the few things that consistently gets him grinning because he finds her reactions cute." Like a schoolyard bully pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes.

It’s not like they have any thematic narratives or relevance. It’s not like she’ll live to 1000 and has existential dread about it while he’s logically gonna be her next friend to die at 50 and wether it’s romantic or platonic it’ll terrify her to lose him. It’s not like it’s fear of death x fear of rejection so they’re both obsessed with the thought of loss looming, past and ongoing. It’s not like it’s half-elf x half-foot and there’s an inherent journey that was and still is to dispel prejudices and truly come to see each other. It’s not like he’s painfully real and raw and flawed but still a good man, that he’s not the figure of prince charming that she’s always dreamed of while still being virtuous and worth fighting for. Or you know, her hair being golden and it being the epitome of beauty to him, and his hair turning silver and it being Marcille’s worst nightmare.

Just a weird wacky ship who means nothing but shallow things to people who have weirdo reasons for liking it. Like can you not. If you’re not imaginative enough to think of reasons why this ship may have an appealing dynamic that’s not my issue. But yes, yes, they’re both flat asses to me, thanks.

[jewishregulus]

i could talk for hours abt regulus being a college drop out like it just fits him so well. I’m sorry i know the public will disagree but no one gets him like i do. he thinks he has to go to uni and get a degree bc it’s what hes supposed to do but honestly ? he doesn’t like it he wants to learn at his own pace w his own structure he wants to explore the world he has barred himself from for so long . like i love fics where reg drops out and gets like a sugar daddy just to have the money to go to the fanciest art museums across the world and look through them at his own pace….. free from his parents to do what he wants in his own way, not in theirs ….. my sweet angel boy

so many ppl think that regulus like genuinely wants to be like his parents and do what they do and that!! is so wrong…. even in canon…. yes he willingly joined the D.E but it’s bc he didn’t realize he could do anything else … why would he think abt anything else ???? he doesn’t have any other life this is his only option. so he will live in denial abt how much he actually wants it. he’s alicentpilled in that way (those who know know)….

that’s why the moment regulus realizes he’s unhappy he literally kills himself instead of trying to rebel: he doesn’t think he Can rebel. this is his only option. if he is miserable living like this than living will just be miserable. he only has one other thing to do and that would be to die.

anyways back on topic Soz but i don’t like it when reg like owns a business or still gets his masters or a phd or something like to me that doesn’t feel like him … i’m a big fan of sirius n reg ending up in the opposite of spots as to where their parents expected. his parents thought sirius would end up poor and uneducated doing odd jobs for cash and regulus, their puppet child, would end up rich and successful making connections and such…. and then it turns out sirius gets an education and proves himself as capable of being something without them, and regulus let’s go of his parents standards of living. sirius is designing his business cards while regulus is smoking weed in the back of barty’s fuck ass car . they are both at peak happiness. regulus gets to live his own life.

sirius proves to himself he is worth something and capable outside of his family, that he can succeed without them, that he isn’t going to fall from grace without them, and regulus proves to himself that the fall from grace isn’t much of a fall, and that he’s happier with the people he loves than with the career his parents wanted for him. that’s my vision

[seireitonin]

“Toby/ other characters would be an abuser!1!” A talk on why that pisses me off

Hi. My name is Seirei. I don’t want to share super personal shit on the internet, but due to certain factors in my life I have BPD. (this is NOT self diagnosis. I have been to a professional and for now they think I have this due to certain trauma/ symptoms I’ve shown) This is part of the cluster B personality type. That being said Toby and many other creepypasta characters either canonically have ASPD/ BPD or it’s a generally accepted headcanon that they do. Now this in itself doesn’t bother me if it’s done well and with research. But the problem is most ppl just slap these labels onto them without doing the proper research. I’ve gotten multiple comments on my TikTok like “well I think Toby is an abuser bc he has ASPD/ BPD” I hate that. I hate that so much. You guys say it’s for “realism” but you’re just demonizing mental disorders. You’re demonizing people like me. In you having your “realism” youre hurting me and ppl in the cluster B personality type. ASPD/ BPD doesn’t instantly make you an abuser. These are personality disorders brought on trauma. Especially trauma with parents/ family. People with ASPD/ BPD know that we’re not well all the time. We’re suffering from disorders that affect our lives. From trauma/ experiences that we didn’t ask for. These are DISORDERS. These aren’t fake edgy illnesses that you can slap onto a character with no thought when you want them to be angsty. For example when ppl say “Toby would be an abuser/ not be capable of love because of his ASPD and he went through abuse in his past” not only are you taking away the depth of his character, you’re just straight up demonizing mental disorders. If you read his story, he loves his mom and sister so much. People with ASPD can love. But it does cause him to be obnoxious and rude. But this isn’t coming from a place of malice. He’s a traumatized man w a disorder! This isn’t me saying Toby can do no wrong and he’s 100% healthy. Toby definitely has issues and I’d never erase that. But to call him an abuser because he has ASPD is so gross and you’re just demonizing ASPD to be edgy without doing research on it or the cluster B personality type in general. As I said before, people with cluster B personality type KNOW we have disorders. We live with them every day. They affect our lives, our relationships, ourselves. We know that we fuck up and what we do isn’t healthy all the time. We KNOW. We’re not doing it because we’re “abusers” we’re suffering and hurting. Again this isn’t me saying that everyone with BPD/ ASPD is a good person who’s willing to do the work and grow. There are bad people with these disorders. But that doesn’t mean everyone who has them are instantly abusive. I’m not an abuser at all. Never have been and never will be. But BPD does affect me and the way I act that can come off as hurtful/ unhealthy and I KNOW THAT. Im always actively putting in the work to be better, like a lot of people with ASPD/ BPD. Just because we have these disorders doesn’t instantly mean we can’t change/ be better. Doesn’t mean we’re not humans with emotions/ trauma of our own. Toby obviously had to do some kind of inner work to be able to be with Clockwork the way kastoway portrayed them. (If it’s canon or not is irrelevant here)When you say shit like “Toby is abusive bc of ASPD/ BPD” that’s what you’re telling us you think of us. You see us and treat us like monsters but then talk about how much you love Toby/ other characters for having our very real disorder. ASPD/ BPD can be seen as two sides of the same coin. They have so many similarities but are shown in different ways. Do proper research before you talk about mental health because you’re stigmatizing/ demonizing disorders that are already looked down upon. Toby does canonically have ASPD and possibly BPD but it’s written into his character pretty well(as well as a 13 year old in the 2010s can do) and now that ppl are older we can actually analyze his character/story correctly. But Jeff and many other characters still aren’t getting this same treatment and they need it.Do better.

[spiraling-trap]

wanted to make a dn oc then had the idea to take one of the many female characters in dn and make her my oc

so i stole the girl that light went on that one date with and made her my own. She’s inspired by the fact that i want to see light get played by a girl for once

more stuff ab her ⬇️

she’s so good in the manga… in the anime they cut the scene where she just watches the bus jacking and light is like “well looks like our date is over because of that trauma and all” and she’s like “WYM? we’re still going!” like a crazy person

anyway i have a bit written up for her i think she pretends to be one of light’s friends bc she’s a bit obsessed with him but not romantically at all. obsessed in the way that she wants to be him and like steal his skin and wants what he has. but she’s jealous and kinda hates him too because he’s perfect and has it all/everything’s lined up for him unlike her (maybe she’s got no parents or uninvolved ones). idk. and she feels like no one else can see through light but her— she can see his people suit because she also wears a people suit #bpd #autism. so that makes her want to study him more. and to study him from up close she pretends to be a stupid girl with a crush on him because she knows that to light that makes him a moth to a flame

also she follows light to college so she sees all the Hideki Ryuga shit go down. maybe she starts investigating on her own when light literally disappears and doesn’t come to college anymore

ALSO i don’t know if it’s actually canon but i think she was also the girl that light saved from the motorcycle guys in the beginning. i imagine she was stalking light when that happened and doesn’t realize he saved her until later when the bus jacking happens and she realizes that the dangerous men from both scenarios died in the vicinity of light. so then she’s like Oh he has magic powers too now?! the bastard?! and eventually connects him with kira on her own

does any of this make sense outside of my brain

[vigilskeep]

wait, Minerva "canonically" has a baby?? i want to know everything!! when how what - how does motherhood change her, pls elaborate, srry if you talked about this before, i just love them so much

she does!! i talk abt this less bc i think its self-indulgent jghsskks and that people are less interested in this, but it’s super fun to think about for me

the baby was a surprise, minerva was kind of being stupid about it lmao because she was being less careful than she might have been in the circle, especially because she’s a warden now so she’s less likely to get pregnant at all, without really thinking through what might happen. (i’m sure our local kinloch hold spirit healer companions both had their field days telling her off for this at some point.) but as soon as it does happen she wants the baby so badly. as a circle mage and then a warden she had never really seriously considered it a possibility for herself, but she loves children, and it’s been so long since she had a real family

it’s zevran’s and zevran is in antiva most of the time. i think she has a weird crisis about whether he’ll want anything to do with a baby, and she would despise for him to come back just out of obligation but also what if he doesn’t come back, and she ends up procrastinating telling him for, like, months. just a stupid amount of time. bc she was born to stress her man out and to give her wardens unnecessary grudges against him because they thought he had obviously chosen not to be here because obviously she would have told him. truly when will his suffering end. anyway he’s thrilled when somebody eventually does him the courtesy of letting him know

the baby’s a boy, she names him duncan, it sparks a whole other argument with alistair that we won’t get into here. he gets nicknamed junior a lot, partly bc he’s duncan jr, partly bc of the ongoing joke that he’s the resident Junior Warden. he was very much raised in warden blue since the cradle. because minerva is so busy and zevran is often away, he’s pretty much collectively raised in vigil’s keep by the awakening squad and whoever else gets added to that trusted inner circle. which works out bc wardens don’t often have kids of their own so they all just kind of... share this one lmao. (and possibly sometimes also oghren and felsi’s kid if they stick around?) it’s velanna who instigates this bc that’s what the dalish do and she’s also literally the only one here who knows what to do with a baby so thank the maker she’s here (minerva’s practised with kids but by nature they don’t have babies in the circle)

i’m so thrilled that spellblade is a crow-themed rogue-like mage subclass bc that’s exactly what i always pictured for duncan jr eventually. he’s a mage, his magic manifests very young, but minerva is very strict abt his studies and it has the unfortunate reverse effect of making getting his dad or nathaniel or sigrun to teach him combat much more fun. it works out really bc his magic having manifested is a tightly kept secret so it’s good for him not to have to rely on it

being a mother kind of changes/crystallises a lot of minerva’s priorities. it’s one thing to say, like, i would like to improve the situation for my fellow mages at some point, or, it sure would be nice to live past a warden’s usual limits. it’s another thing entirely to have a mage child and need to make a world that’s safe for him and live long enough to see it done. it ends up being a key issue of her conflict with the chantry between origins and inquisition because nobody’s quite certain what the rules are. obviously if she were still a circle mage any child of hers would be taken away. but she’s not a circle mage and arguably the chantry has no right to a child born outside of the circle, with no sign yet (as far as anyone outside vigil’s keep knows) of magic. (like i say it manifested younger than normal so this is believable even to those who think he will eventually show.) it definitely exacerbates tensions, shall we say, because obviously they can pry him out of her cold dead hands

he’s probably still only quite young in inquisition. six or seven? somewhere around there, i hate timelines. not sure where he is while minerva and her squad are on their quest, but given the very short list of people she trusts that much, i have to say that the most insane answer is likely: he’s in denerim as a temporary ward of the king. probably the first elven kid to be such

[korizzybee]

Imagine: being Hobie Brown’s little sister who’s also a spider

Info: reader is a darkskin!black!fem, reader is age 12-13, Hobie is 17-18, SPIDERMAN ATSV SPOILERS‼️

For as long as you can remember it has just been you and Hobie against the world, I guess you had gotten your spider powers like a year after Hobie but you both joined the spider society at the same time

Hobie takes really good care of you seeing as how you’re his only family member left, he always makes sure you’re well fed and rested before taking care of himself

Since you’re still very young he lets you do a lot of the easy tasks when you’re doing your spider jobs like getting civilians to safety and stopping fallen debris from hitting people, of course you can help with villains but you just have to be on the sidelines so you don’t get hurt

You both def play hide n seek in the dark idc what anyone says YOU BOTH PLAY HIDE N SEEK IN THE DARK CUZ ITS SO FUN TO YOU TWO!!

I can not stress this enough when I say Hobie is always letting you be the first one to judge the song lyrics he writes

He’s the guitarist, Gwen’s the drummer, and you’re the singer

Your extra spider powers are sonic scream and x ray vision (Hobie thinks that’s hella cool)

He has a picture of you, him, Gwen at the park as his Lock Screen, for his Home Screen it’s a picture of Pavitr teaching you how to make tea

SPEAKING OF PAVITR!!!

OMG Pav loves you smmm you’re like his little sister figure

He loves giving you piggy back rides and he lets you do his hair in any style you want

Two definitely have a handshake

You take a lot after Hobie minus the way you dress, he says he’s not a role model but he’s def your role model

You and Hobie had separate canon events, the person who died for you was a cafe worker who would look after you when Hobie was busy with the band and he couldn’t take you

For weeks you wouldn’t talk to anyone even Hobie, but he still made sure you were taken care of

You and Hobie have your own playlist, it’s a mixture between rock, punk, heavy metal, pop, hiphop, RnB, and bedroom pop

Idc what anyone says, you n Hobie share a bunk bed (he said he gets top bunk bc he’s older smh 🤦🏾‍♀️) and y’all have a matching pajama set that y’all wear on movie nights

One time Pav came over and teased Hobie about having matching pjs with you (he never came over again /j)

No one knows this, not even you, but Hobie still wears the colorful bracelet you made for him when you were 6 (it’s under he sleeve though so you never see)

Definitely the type of brother to sleep in your bed with you or let you sleep in his bed with him if you have a nightmare

By civilians, you two are nicknamed the Spider Siblings (he hates it bc he hates labels and you don’t mind it sorta)

YOU BOTH ANNOY MIGUEL TOGETHER HE’S SO SICK OF YALL 😭😭‼️‼️

As you can see my requests are back open ESPECIALLY FOR SPIDERMAN ATSV so send those requests!!