#spidey is forever in my life

[astromechs]

10 characters/10 fandoms/10 tags

thank you for the tag @fulcrumstardust !! let's see:

katniss everdeen/the hunger games

faye valentine/cowboy bebop

misato katsuragi/neon genesis evangelion

clark kent/dc

trinity/the matrix

kendall roy/succession

annie january/the boys

richie jerimovich/the bear

jyn erso/star wars

peter parker/marvel

i need everyone to know how hard it was for me to pick just one star wars character and just one marvel character, that's why those are down at the bottom of the list

tagging (no obligation!): @jaqobis ; @aluvian ; @perigilpin ; @chipthekeeper ; @agentjackdaniels ; @holoscout ; @oh-nostalgiaa ; @0bianidalas ; @butch-chastity ; @latrodectal

[gay-dorito-dust]

hobie brown (spider-punk!!) is giving me severe brain rot, i love him sm 😭

if you ever decide to write for him, could you do some relationship hcs??

ty ^^

Not sure wether this is what you wanted but I hope it was worth it.

Music from the heart:

One of the most obvious ones is that Hobie would have a plethora of songs about you, it’s fucking adorable and so sweet, and so he would play them for you within the comfort of your room because where else would you rather be serenaded?

If anything it makes the moment more special and memorable for the both of you as something you can look back on with fondness.

Though you probably try teasing him one day by asking how many more songs of you he had in the works and Hobie would either say ‘too many to count.’ Or ‘a whole albums worth.’ He’s not going to hide the fact that he’s got notebook after notebook filled with song lyrics dedicated to you.

Pda though not quite:

Hobie isn’t the type to heavily involve himself in PDA but isn’t against the likes of:

holding hands.

his hand being placed on the small of your back when guiding you somewhere else.

the classic arm over the shoulder.

Thigh holding

His/ your head resting on each others shoulders and or laps.

Guitar pick:

This one came to my head out of the blue but I’m gonna add it here even though I’m not too certain but here it is anyway:

if Hobie uses guitar picks to play his guitar -which he probs doesn’t but idk- I’d like to think he’d make you a guitar pick necklace from one of his old picks.

Sure he hates gifts and such but this is the sole expectation alongside any and all handcrafted jewellery you may give him because he wears that shit with pride.

Terms of endearment:

Love

Darling

Sweetheart

Impromptu sleepovers:

Hobie crashes at your place more often then not to the point he might as well be living with you in regards of how often he leaves something of his at yours, so much so you’ve begun to wonder if he was doing it intentionally or accidentally.

Either way you made sure that his stay was comfortable by having a makeshift bed set up for him so he didn’t have to constantly sleep on the uncomfortable couch and wake up with a crooked neck.

Hobie appreciates all that you do for him but would often tell you it’s not necessary but you weren’t about to get into a discussion about whether or not he was deserving of help because the answer was obvious and that answer would always and forever will be; yes.

Also he’s a bit of a cuddle bug but only with you but that’s your little secrete.

Date nights:

Most, if not all of your dates are either just the pair of you being your natural selves in the comfort of your own home where’d you would talk about anything and everything that came to your mind, free of judgment.

or

showing Hobie your undying love and support by showing up to his gigs and scream the loudest because he is talented as shit and deserves a lot more in your eyes.

Either way as long as you were within each others company, anywhere you both went could be considered a date.

Spidey business:

Now this is all dependant on wether or not you know he’s Spider-Man:

If you did then you’d probably would help him patch up his wounds after every fight he had

Or

If you weren’t due to Hobie wanting nothing more then to keep you and that life as far from each other as possible, you’d most definitely would be concerned when you see him with any sustained injuries he tried patching up himself.

No matter how hard you try to get him to tell you what’s wrong, Hobie would just tell you it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Meeting his friends/ Bragging rights:

Before introducing you to the likes of Pavitr, Miles and Gwen(if you haven’t already met her), it’s almost an 100% guarantee that he brags about you anyway he knows how which only intrigues them more and more to the point they’re just pleading with Hobie to introduce his cool, kickass partner to them.

So when he does, the three are practically hounding you about your relationship with Hobie and when you looked back at him for help in wrangling in his over excited friends, the little shit merely smirks and shrugs his shoulders as though he had no idea they’d react like this, all the while leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest; happy to see all his favourite people he cares about a lot interacting with one another to the point that by the end of the day you’re very good friends with each of them.

[munariplans]

cold | natasha romanoff

synopsis: AU to the spidey!reader and natasha series, wherein a bad argument leads to unsaid misunderstandings and forever guilt between natasha and her love, just before christmas.

natasha romanoff x spidey! reader

word count: 2.2k words

warnings: major character death

a/n: i have to emphasise that this is an AU for these two once more, or i fear i may not make it out alive for christmas from your wraths as well...

masterlist

cold had been the one word you would describe the look in her eyes, as she told you to get out. to get out, if it made you happier going out on that stupid mission than spending time at home with your family. that stupid mission that no one could deny was not only dangerous, but life-threatening. but you were confident in your abilities. you knew that if anyone could survive it, you could. you also knew that bringing the stolen artefact home could add a nice year-end bonus that would chip in heavily to the new play room that was being built for your son. 

you didn’t mention any of that to natasha, of course. she was already enraged enough as it is, standing by the christmas tree the three of you had decorated together. your son was a greater help than you, she would say, as you carried him on your shoulders and allowed him to choose where he wanted to hang the ornaments beside natasha. you remembered those moments fondly. 

“get out then,” she bit harshly, “get out on that stupid, godforsaken mission if you have to. i could care less about trying to convince you otherwise anymore. it seems that whatever i say these days doesn’t even matter.”

“nat, of course what you say matters.”

“you don’t love me enough to have it matter.”

“how can you–”

but she had put up a hand to stop you. it was enough. she had sighed deeply, and began walking back to the bedroom. it was late, and your son had a preschool play the next day. natasha needed to get up early to put his costume together for him. 

you didn’t see a point fighting her. maybe you should have. maybe you should have gone up to her, wrapped your arms around her, and told her just how sorry you were. that you weren’t going on the mission anymore, because it would be going against her wishes, and you loved her too much to disrespect her like that. maybe things would’ve been different then. 

what you did instead, was sigh irritatedly as well, and began packing up for the mission. getting dressed in your spider suit underneath plain clothing, you slipped your mask into one of the pockets on your jacket. the pendant with natasha’s photo inside of it hung snugly on your neck; your good luck charms. 

natasha watched you enter the bedroom, equipping your web shooters and packing the last of your things. she didn’t say anything. when you were finished and shot one last longing glance to her, she clenched her jaw and looked away. she didn’t want to be the one to give in first. she wished she had. she wished she had just put her ego down, and hugged and kissed you goodbye. it would have alleviated so much of the regret, and sorrow, that she was feeling right now. 

you nodded understandingly, swallowing a particularly difficult breath. coming a little closer, you noticed natasha not flinching when you moved. so you took the chance to kiss her on the cheek, and murmur i’ll be home soon in her ear. she gave a nonchalant grunt and drew the covers over her face. 

but natasha still cared. she cared so much that it hurt; it was inane for her, just caring for you. and so when you left the bedroom and made your way across the hall to your son’s room, she followed.

she watched by the door as you woke him up gently, leaning down to smile at him as he sleepily reached out for your voice in the dark. you held his hand, calling him your little warrior, and then, you leaned down and whispered, just enough for natasha to barely make out, “take care of your mama for me while i’m gone, okay? just like we talked about, my warrior.”

his hands imitated your own when you shot your web shooters; the spider pose, he would say, as you chuckled. you kissed him gently on the forehead then, and tucked him back in. 

“when will you be back?” he asked, eyes wide as he saw your mission supplies. 

you smiled sadly at him. “just in time for christmas, i promise.”

“pinky promise?” he let out his pinky, you interlaced it with yours, nodding. 

natasha disappeared back into the room before you could see her, her own eyes red and brimming with tears. she heard the click of the front door a few seconds later. she wished she had never allowed you to leave that night. 

– 

it had been a mistake; a miscalculation on your part, which led to a mistake with even graver consequences than you had realised. you had slipped in the wet snow running from the enemies, allowing them to catch up with you. just enough for a clear shot.

the first few seconds after the initial gunshot felt broken, silent in the freezing air of the night. your breath was still ragged, desperate to flee, and your reflexes had been working perfectly fine. then came the second, and the third, and you knew something had gone very, very wrong. 

you let go of the artefact, and zipped away out of sight. 

ending up at a rooftop just near the park, you could hear the confused shouts and demands for the enemies to find you. but you knew, that while you were not safe up there, you were hidden. stumbling as you landed, you scrambled to feel just where you had been shot, and why the bullets weren’t deflected from your near-bulletproof suit. you cursed when you felt that they had been designed to mimic the density of arrows instead. 

“oh my god,” you hadn’t realised just how much blood was pouring out of you. you reached out for the wall beside you, but soon enough, standing proved to be too arduous of a task, as you crippled to your knees. your hands drawn back were doused in blood, and you finally felt just how piercing the wounds were, exposed to the cold.

you lay on your back. rolling over onto your back was all you could manage. the lightheadedness was coming quickly; you were so cold, everything hurt. you had tried pressing your hands against the wounds, but even more hot blood coated them while doing so. under the moonlight, the blood appeared thick and black, almost like molasses. 

the crippling fear that you were going to bleed out before anyone could find you began to set in. and through your short, panicked, breaths, you felt something slip out of your pocket. the blood had made the grip in your suit slippery enough to allow your phone to slip. 

there, the wallpaper of natasha and your son shone bright against the dark backdrop of the night. you shut your eyes, summoning the last of your strength to grip it and bring it closer to you. your fingers slipped as they pressed down on natasha’s number from muscle memory. your vision had gone blurry by the time you managed to press the phone against your ear. 

the tone rang once, twice, then, “hello?”

her voice was always sweet like honey. the thought of bleeding out before you could hear that voice for another day would have filled you with the rage of dying, but you had no energy for it any longer. you were so very, very tired. and so very, very cold. 

“hi, my love.”

natasha moved the phone to her other ear. you rarely called her during missions; you had always feared for her safety. there was the soft pitter patter of rain in the background of where you were. natasha didn’t know that in the rain, the water and blood was slowly filling up your lungs. 

“what’s wrong?” you hated how she knew there was something amiss. her voice already carried an air of concern.

you cleared your throat. “nothing. i just needed to hear your voice…how have you been?”

“it’s only been a week, baby. nothing much has changed since you left.” natasha would regret uttering those words just a few minutes later.

you smiled. “t-that’s good. how was our boy’s play? d-did he outshine the others, like i said?”

“he did, he was easily the best one there,” natasha cooed, her other hand ruffling your son’s hair as he played with his toys while waiting for natasha to complete mission reports in the compound. “he misses you so much.” 

“tell him–” the line crackled as the rain beat down harder on you, “–please tell him–that–that i miss him too.”

the troubled feeling in natasha’s gut only grew bigger. “i will. baby, is everything okay over there? is the mission…okay?”

you drew a ragged breath that natasha didn’t miss. “yeah, yeah of course. mission’s perfectly fine. like i said…i just wanted to hear your voice.”

there was a beat of silence, as natasha held her tongue and you hoped she wouldn’t detect the fading in your voice. it hurt to breathe by then. 

“nat?”

“yes?” she responded immediately. 

“i’m sorry, nat. for going on this mission. for going against your wishes. i’m sorry–” the line crackled, “–that i made you feel small, or your opinions unvalued. you know that…you know that your opinions always matter to me. and–” 

you had drawn up a cough, wet and bloody. “–and i’m sorry for all the times i never made you feel as loved as i should have. i’m sorry for not loving you enough, as you told me. i regret everything about that argument we had, you know. i love you so much, i don’t think i could fathom…the idea of losing you.”

“it’s alright, baby, it’s really alright,” natasha had moved from her office to the main comms room, paging for an emergency meeting, “i forgive you. and i said some nasty things i didn’t mean too. i hope you forgive me as well, and we can move past it, together. i love you too, you know.”

“yeah, i do,” your eyelids were drooping, “thank you.”

natasha could hear the footsteps of the others by then. “baby, are you sure everything is alright? should i call for help? where are you?”

“no, no,” you begged, “please, i’m alright. just stay on the line with me, please.”

“i’m not hanging up.”

you let out another bloodied cough. this time, it was hard to deny that natasha couldn’t hear it, because it had launched you into an even worse state, your suit beginning to grow heavy on your bones from the water and blood. there was no hope by then. 

“nat?”

“yes, sweetheart.”

“it’s just me and you here, right?” you looked up to the moon, wondering if it was the same one she was staring at right now.

natasha shut her eyes in pain, gripping the table before her. fury’s hand wrapped over hers, as the team gathered around her. they had already begun tracing your call, and the avengers were suiting up. “...just me and you.”

you were wincing between every word, “the drawer below where you keep your winter coats. our son’s christmas present…and yours. i–don’t think–i can make it home for christmas on time. will you help me break the news…to him? i’m sorry.”

natasha let the tears run freely then. they had found you. and she had seen just the state you were in. “baby, please. why are you–”

“–please?” natasha shook her head. this cannot be happening. “nat, please?”

“okay, okay,” she reluctantly agreed. whatever to keep you awake. “in exchange, can you…can you hold on for a little while longer? i’m coming, baby.”

you let out a soft exhale as you smiled. “i love you nat. i always have, and i always will.”

“i love you too. so please, can you–”

“–do me a favour, nat. don’t. don’t try. just please…please stop crying for me?”

she had wanted to scream. she had wanted to scream, to find you and shake you so hard that you would wake up and realise that you were killing her just by dying too, and that she had wanted to slap you so hard for even daring to ask her not to cry. but she also wanted to hold you, to hug you and kiss you, and have the opportunity of feeling your touch once more before she said goodbye. she didn’t want this to be the way it all ended. 

she didn’t know how she was going to survive without you. her blood was running cold and she was pacing back and forth in anxiety. the team didn’t dare interfere with how she was dealing with the impending loss of her wife.

your voice was drifting further and further away. you were dying. 

“i have to go now, nat. please forgive me. please forgive me. and please kiss our son goodnight before bed tonight for me. thank you for everything.”

the phone dropped, and natasha’s world stopped. her son would not only know that you weren’t coming home for christmas, but you weren’t coming home at all. and she would know that had she just convinced you a little better, loved you a little harder, you wouldn’t have gone on the mission. and she would still have you by her side for christmas. 

cold had been the body they found right outside yours and natasha's shared apartment. cold had been natasha’s heart the moment she saw you again, the life in your eyes gone and the guilt in her heart needling itself into grief. 

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Let's Eat!

(That is, let's live, want, connect... oh, you know what I mean by now)

I like how Yaad and the other living villagers can casually talk with the ghosts, because for all intents and purposes they were also ghosts... In fact, those who stayed and spent centuries going through the patterns of life even though all true meaning had been lost long ago were MORE "ghosts" than those who lost their corporeal forms because they wanted to escape so badly that they went wandering... That's so fuckin' good. I wanna eat this writing.

.

Kabru just randomly walking out of the bushes the second Laios starts considering politics...love him. He was summoned. His PR spidey senses were going off.

.

look at my boy, establishing his own authority.

.

Lol this was me when we moved house last month, and my job was to just stand in the new living room and tell people where to put which box or piece of furniture. It's an important job in a task with a lot of people!

.

FUCK YEAH, THAT'S MY MAN! HE LOOKS GREAT!

.

fucking love the trope of "one savvy friend in the crowd who deliberately gets a supportive chant going." Of course it's Kabru.

Though it's important to note that the first thing someone called was, "The demon-eater's here!", and there was muttering while no one was entirely sure if that was a good thing or not... Kabru didn't start the rumble of the crowd; the rumble of the crowd is unavoidable, and you have to be aware of that. Laios has always been aware of that, he's just never known what to do about it, and so tried to avoid it. But he's not avoiding it anymore - so Kabru started the hype of the crowd.

.

They're both right! In order to eat, you need to kill! A memento of a meal IS a spoil of war!

.

They're unhappy bros... /laughing

.

Shown: man desperately reassuring himself, and psyching himself up to eat this stupid dragon meat

.

DADCHUCK. Istg my father has said the same thing to me.

p.s. oh thank god he's fully dressed again. it was indecent.

.

Marcille is so resigned to this, and so...determined to see it as her own choice. "We all agreed", "I've got to go" - and I'm sure she does see it as her own choice, in a way, because this is how the world has always worked and she knows that. She knew that going in. Those who do ancient magic are arrested by the Elves of the West, that's just the "natural" consequence. She might've gotten away with it if she'd gone undiscovered, or if she'd stayed in the dungeon forever, but she didn't - she chose to pursue her craft, to save Falin, and to do everything after that, too, and so she implicitly chose the consequence with it. If it's unfair, well, thinking that changes nothing, so it's better not to think it.

Until Laios is like, "Actually, I might have political power now? And I'm SO goddamn tired of myself and people I love being punished just for being different, and interested in unconventional things. Let's try something."

.

WELL-FUCKING-PLAYED! GET THEIR ASSES, LAIOS! It's especially great because I'm pretty sure he knows the answers to all of this by now? Power move!

.

Is she sitting there completely nude except for jewelry and a short robe. Icons only, honestly. Though "we have the luxury of time" feels like so much of a threat from an elf.

.

Hey, you did objectively defeat him! Okay arguably the Lion did but Laios did it first, he just also then talked to him, and got grabbed by friendly vine-tentacles. You didn't kill him, but that's not what Delgal asked for anyway!

.

thinking about that post that observed that Thistle's driving madness was specifically getting Delgal home for dinner, to eat all together as a family again, and he wakes up to the sound of the people of the Golden Kingdom eagerly inviting the (new) king to eat, and him responding...crying... What is lost is lost, but life will go on.

.

The moment when a character decides to lie to another character for their own good is always so compelling. The little moral quandary microcosm.

.

So Yaad did know something of what passed between Delgal and Thistle, that drove Thistle down the path to dark magic. He know what it was his grandfather blamed himself for.

This is SUCH A GOOD AND QUIET-SAD DEATH SCENE, but as a consummate fan of 'actually, living is much much harder than dying, and much more interesting too', I do like to think Thistle lives and has to...figure out what to do with his life. And that 'what to do with his life' ends up including ancient magic mad science with Marcille.

...But honestly, even though that'd be fun for me, it seems almost cruel to Thistle. He's been alive for so long. Those he loved most are gone. He held the demon back from the surface, trapped in those books, for so long, even if it was in no way whatsoever with the good of the world in mind. If anyone deserves this peaceful death in (what he thinks are) his brother's forgiving arms, it's him.

.

Unfortunately, my love, as has been ceaselessly proven in this story: that's life.

.

Marcille has caught onto one of the major themes! However, this story still isn't in favor of afternoon special Moral of the Story - not of letting the characters wrap things up with a bow, at least. You just go on living and wanting and learning about and connecting with and killing new things, forever! That's how it goes! You never know everything and you're always a little bit starving!

.

I really love this grumpy old man, and I want him to stick around and be one of Laios's advisors. He's an old gnome, he'll die as soon as an average tallman would anyway.

.

This is a) very touching coming from Mithrun, who is only just regaining his own will to live, and b) almost tautalogical in this story EXCEPT that it is also clear that merely "wanting" doesn't mean you get to continue to live, it only means that you're alive in this moment - you also need to want to live MORE than whatever's trying to kill you wants to live.

.

GREAT VISUALS!

.

And then it's so small, so small that she could leave it behind entirely but Falin is still so kind that she picks it up anyway! Falin who looks at everyone and everything - ghosts and brothers and mad mages and dead dragons, the latter of whom were both violently oppressing her soul - and thinkgs "I gotta help." She's so good!

I'm really going to need to write a like 2k post-canon character study about how Falin has part of the spirit of a dragon in her chest which unfurls while she travels abroad and curls up again and hides when she's home with Marcille and especially with Laios, and how it's a metaphor for her own independence but also literally there is the spirit of a dragon. At the end of it she figures out how to nurture and commune with the dragon enough to have her own flight-capable wings.

.

THIS IS SO FUCKING COOL-LOOKING. AUTOPHAGIC SELF-CREATION FOR THE FUCKING WIN!!

.

YYEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

.

fuck it, have a collage, because this bitch-ass website is about to cut off my photos-per-post. It can't HANDLE the sheet joy of Falin resurrection reunion hugs!!

.

so many people love her, or at least are really emotionally invested in this now!! /sobs

.

Lmaoooo

Laios: wracked with food poisoning because he ate raw walking mushroom Falin: great distress! Marcille: trying very hard to help, also thinking sooo hard that He Is An Idiot. [btw I love how it looks like she takes up holding her hair back with a band] Kabru: having his weekly moment, as he has for the past many years and will continue to have until he dies, of wondering if he shouldn't really have just killed this guy rather than let him become king

Kabru definitely wrote this whole ending narration btw. This is his press release from like 40 years in the future. And those kids! An orc kid and a kobold kid, and zooming out to show kids of other races, all playing together and going to lunch together!!

And then they all lived, and hungered and ate and killed and wanted and sought understanding and connected with one another and were part of the great circle of life, as happily ever after as one can get.

This story truly was delicious...in dungeon!

[kaylasficrecs]

peter parker recs - part 2

shy frat!peter | au, imagine, fluff | @webslingingslasher

baby me | tasm, drabble, fluff | @p3terparker

twenty-bucks | imagine, flangst | @deathbyathousandspiders

likes having you close | imagine, fluff | @sacharinee

hospital heart monitor | imagine, fluff (bit of angst) | @parkerpeter24

no need to hide it | one shot, flangst (more fluff) | @spider-man-199999

best friends couch cuddles | two shot, fluff | @deathbyathousandspiders

stacked against you | tasm, imagine, fluff | @delicate-dorothea

meeting at the grave | imagine, flangst (more angst) | @electrosspidey

apologies | imagine, flangst | @bruh--wtf

hurt | one shot, flangst | @just-jordie-things

so cold | one shot, flangst | @just-jordie-things

i'll keep your brittle heart warm | au, imagine, fluff | @darling-im-wonderstruck

open arms | tasm, drabble, fluff | @delicate-dorothea

only you | imagine, flangst | @ivyquill

you're a very good kisser | drabble, fluff | @ddejavvu

reader thinks she's ugly | imagine, flangst | @selfcarecap

just so you know | imagine, fluff | @literaila

eventually | imagine, angst | @peterthepark

chilly | imagine, fluff | @presleyanswrites

2:54 am | tasm, one shot, soft flangst | @likedovesinthewindd

where'd you get your medical degree | tasm, imagine, fluff | @literaila

soothing | insomniac, drabble, flangst, comfort | @multi-fandom-imagine

i'll be right there, sweetheart | tasm, imagine, flangst | @urrockstar-xe

mastermind | imagine, fluff | @moonstruckme

the mechanics of a soul | imagine, fluff | @irndad

two normal arms | one shot, fluff | @waitimcomingtoo

angel unaware | one shot, trifecta (fluff/smut/angst) | @silkscream

making out for hours | drabble, fluff | @ptergwen

physics and english teacher love affair | insomniac, imagine, fluff | @certifiedlovergirlsstuff

azalea | two shot, flangst | @writings-of-a-hufflepuff

spidey senses | one shot, flangst | @forever-rogue

not so innocent | imagine, fluff | @spider-quackson

far from home, far from you | one shot, flangst (more angst) | @neverlandparker

your kiss, my check | au, imagine, flangst | @hollandweather

shy shy shy | tasm, imagine, fluff | @biblio-smia

identity crisis | one shot, fluff | @heliads

kissing reader any chance he gets | tasm, drabble, fluff | @madwcman

just hold me | drabble, flangst, comfort | @oneawkwardwriter

snap | imagine, flangst | @tomholland1996simp

it's supposed to be fun, turning 21 | imagine, flangst | @loverwebs

only you | imagine, flangst | @devotion

i can see you | one shot, fluff | @waitimcomingtoo

peter thinks he's slick | imagine, fluff | @weird-is-life

night in | imagine, fluff | @blissfulparker

come home | tasm, imagine, flangst (more angst) | @dameronology

worth it | drabble, fluff | @miley1442111

come in with the rain | one shot, flangst | @pasukiyo

be here for her | au, imagine, angst, comfort | @lovelettersforthedamned (tw)

promise | imagine, flangst | @shayyprasad (tw)

[lethalchiralium]

hello!! I don't think you've done this, but forgive me if you have.

I'm thinking about the moment when Winnie first started calling Missus "mum" and how emotional a moment that must have been for missus. Winnie probably just said it non chalantly because she was so little and obviously saw Missus as her mother, but it had to be such a big deal for Missus 🥲😭🩷

And if Simon overheard--- them talking about it? ahhhhh it makes my heart soar.

anyways sorry for such a long ask. 🩷

-🧀

EEE. i love this. i didn’t add them talking about it because they have before 😌🫶

happiness canon under the cut 🤍

It was normal for his daughter to call her nanny ‘Mama’, no matter how much he quietly discouraged it. From when she could speak, she called you ‘Mama’. Not as a form of endearment, but it’s what she named you. Mama.

You spent forever - when you were simply her nanny - to get her to quit the habit. Trying to push off the idea of the word to a picture of her real mother, a smiling photo of the brunette Winnie resembled. She’d give you a grumble and a pout, resorting to wiggling to escape your hold. She never used it maliciously, it was just a word she said when she needed something.

But now that she was older and you were legally her mom, she only seemed to call you Mama. Simon tried to instill in his daughter that you were more than just mama; you were mummy, mum, mommy, mom. So when Simon came home from the extended mission and met Mellie, he didn’t expect anything to have changed with Winnie. She’s as stubborn as her mother, and as much as him.

Mellie was nursing a bottle in his arms, his gaze entirely engulfed by his baby. How her hands slowly moved on her sides, clenching and unclenching her fists as she kept her eyes closed. His chest was warm, the smirk on his face was painful - he adored Mellie and he had only met her a few days prior. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her and her older sister.

The nursery was dimly lit by a lamp, the night life of Manchester ignored by the Lieutenant as he watched his two month old baby. Barely any noise came from outside, but he could hear something moving in his home. He raised his head up, intently listening.

Little footsteps, a door creaking open and a little voice, he could barely hear what his daughter said. He rose to his feet, still cradling the baby and holding her bottle, before he silently walked towards the hallway. He could hear the hesitance in Winnie’s footsteps; he poked his head out, about to whisper for her if it wasn’t for your silhouette peering out of your bedroom, kneeling as soon as you saw your daughter.

Winnie held out her hand, physically deflating as she spoke, “Mummy.”

Simon’s eyes widened, surprised she called you her mum - something he thought he wouldn’t experience for a few more years. You were always ‘Mama’. Always.

I missed so much.

“What’s goin’ on, baby?” Your voice was warm, it was like sweet chamomile tea on a cool day - soothing to your daughter. Your hand reached up to her temple, petting down some stray hairs while you kept her eye contact. “Another nightmare?”

A minute nod and Winnie was scooped into your arms, you turned around to disappear into the bedroom where he longed to be for just a moment. Just to hear Winnie call you mummy so quietly, a sound above a whisper. He wanted to kiss her face and tell her she was such a wonderful girl, kiss your lips and tell you that you were raising his children perfectly. He took a step forwards but there was a grunt from his chest, he looked down to see the stare that was identical to his own - Mellie’s eyebrows furrowed as she wiggled, still sucking on her bottle. He mumbled a soft, “Sorry, love. Let’s get back to the chair, yeah?”

[join my taglist here!] taglist:

@idkwtftitbh

@blingblong55

@local-spidey

@sanfransolomitatm

@frazie99

@Awilan

@cosmoscoffeee

@khadeejarh

@tutuwusworld

@cxltblood

@oaktree-of-the-nine-worlds

@babygirl-riley

@emi-flaces

@marini03

@jeannieboys

@egdeverauxx

@koshehehe

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[thespleenman]

im so glad that everyone in the world collectively decided that andrew garfields spider-man is not only a bisexual disaster; he is the one in the spideypool dynamic. Because.. real. Tobey spidey gets harry or mj or whoever else. tom hollands spidey just gets to suffer alone forever (or harley keener, if you feel like that) its just. so perfect. i’m glad to have experienced three different spider-men in my life <3

[angel-of-the-moons]

pavitr who can reads minds and he accidentally reads reader mind and it's just full of horny thoughts abt him ngl

Okay okay this one is like such a neat idea because I remember in the comics (I haven't read in forever) that Miguel could do this! So... Omfg poor Pavitr!!!

Intrusive Thoughts

Pavitr Prabhakar x Spider-Person!Reader

Because I'm tired of repeating myself: PAVITR IS AGED UP IN THIS FIC

TW/CW: Horny thoughts, NSFW, bit of smut, our poor boy was not prepared.

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is shorter than my usual fics, but like asdfghjkl omfg it was fun.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

He wasn't sure why he developed this power. Miguel seemed at a loss and told him maybe it was a delayed mutation brought on by his spider bite.

Miguel had been coaching him on how to control the influx of thoughts that bombarded him, how to tune them out, how to focus on specific thoughts in particular. It honestly made it easier in some ways to fight, not just relying on his Spidey senses.

But... He couldn't help but be curious... He wanted to know what you, his partner (in every sense of the word) thought of him.

Pavitr was not prepared for that.

Your brain was...

He expected the innocent thoughts, how you thought his smile was cute, what were you going to make for dinner, etcetera...

But what he didn't expect to hear or see?

The thoughts swirling through your brain about him and you, naked. Doing... All sorts of things. Together or alone.

The thoughts of him pressing you down into your bed, fucking you relentlessly from behind as he kissed your shoulder.

You on top, riding him like your life depended on it.

In the backseat of your car, you grinding your hips down on his, feeling him twitch inside of you as your muscles squeezed him like a vice.

On the couch, biting into the cushions to stifle your moans and cries as he fucked you.

Him laying you on the table, on his knees, using his mouth and tongue on you until your brain couldn't work and your vision blanked out on you.

In the shower, pinning you to the wall as he slides in and out of you, the hot water slicking your skin and helping him glide in and out of your greedy hole.

The sweet, charming things he'd moan and hiss through his teeth and into your ear.

Pavitr Prabhakar was not prepared. He was thankful he was wearing his mask, otherwise he was positive someone would have taken notice of the bright red pigment that had taken over his tanned skin.

You were sitting in the cafeteria of HQ, eating your lunch, pretending to read the book in your hand, looking so innocent despite the impure thoughts that were at the forefront of your mind.

He almost jumped out of his skin when Miguel tapped on his shoulder.

"Yeah, that's why I don't read minds unless it's necessary." He said, leaning down to Pavitr's level to talk quietly to him.

"I--I can't even--" Pavitr sputtered. "How did you--?!"

"You've been standing there, ramrod straight for almost ten minutes. I can hear your heart rate up." Miguel sighed, standing up straight and crossing his arms. He didn't seem too uncomfortable by the subject. Just how many times as he heard thoughts like these from other people?

"And yeah, lesson for the future, don't read your lover's mind in public. Things are going to shock you." He patted Pavitr on the shoulder, a bored expression on his face before he walked away.

When Pavitr looked back at you, you were staring at him. Oh, so innocent-looking.

When you'd disposed of the rubbish of your meal, Pavitr whisked you away to speak to you privately.

"Pav? What's wrong?" You asked curiously.

He checked the area, making sure nobody was listening; before gripping your shoulders and giving you a light shake, his voice sounding almost traumatized and shell-shocked:

"WHY ARE YOU SO VILLAINOUSLY HORNY?!"

[ghosttalksalot]

Spidery!Peter Spideypool Fics

Let's do this! I have not read all of these. The ones I have not read have been recommended by those mentioned below + anonymous others. Anything that is explicit will be below the line, otherwise in no particular order. These will be from ao3. Assume completed unless otherwise stated. No dead dove or similar, content warnings prior to each summary. I will continue to add if anyone sends more! List below the break, and this is a long one.

You're gonna wanna be my bestfriend, baby by Firefly_ika

Teen&up. 11,843 words. "Peter’s given up caring about his identity around Wade. They're friends, proper friends, not just the kind of we-trade-banter-and-you've-saved-my-ass-a-few-times allies you tend to make in the vigilante gig. He hasn't exactly taken the mask off yet, but he's given more than enough information for Deadpool to track him down. The way he's going, it's like he'll reveal his whole life before, you know, actually revealing." (or) "Five things Peter exposes about himself, and the one that Wade figures out on his own."

Hunger Pains by X_Gon_Give_It

Teen&up. 931 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. "Why does he do this to himself? An angry thought hisses in Wade’s brain. Why does he have to make it so damn hard every time? But the anger is quick. Like a snap, there and then gone. Of course, this is hard on him. It’s easy to see the self hatred when he eats. The disgust at his own desperation. Now that he’s gotten to know Peter, and his sensibilities, it makes sense that this would be so difficult."

My Boyfriend's a Murder Bot by Fredegund

Mature. 55,912 words. Content warning, see tags. "Wade Winston Wilson is ugly. His skin's inside out. It ripples and moves every second of every day, at constant war with the cancer. Vanessa put on a brave face for him when she first saw the changes, but it turns out even she can't stomach the sight for long. He's ugly and alone and nothing will ever be good in life again - If only that were his only problem. But Weapon X is at it again, under crisp new management, turning orphans into super slaves and bringing out the big guns to make sure nobody interferes this go around (namely one Pool comma Dead). So now, not only is Wade alone and ugly forever, but he's got a bit of a pest problem in the form of a black-clad murder-happy man spider with a collar around his neck and an unhealthy obsession with tying Deadpool up. So maybe it's not all bad…"

because i have been lonely by QQI25

Teen&up. 8,591 words. See tag: basically Pete's a spider turned human. "As an immortal person, Wade has never really tried to make friends, save for a giant spider. But when an amulet turns the spider into a person, he has to learn how to live with another person in his life again."

When Instincts Take Over by TheStrange_One

Not rated, but no explicit content. 4,577 words. Not explicitly spideypool, but Peter & Wade nonetheless. "Wade had always had a—fascination, for lack of a better term, with NYC’s wall crawling web-themed hero. Just a little bit. Not a lot. He didn’t collect information of every Spider-Man sighting, or anything (He totally did.) So when Spider-Man started acting strangely, it was really no wonder that Wade noticed first. Of course, it didn’t hurt when he saw the behavior firsthand. Spidey webbing muggers, would-be rapists, and those who thought a little B&E was the best way to begin a day in a thick cocoon wasn’t unusual. However, then whirling and hissing—honest-to-God hissing—was."

Dark Horizons by beforethemoon

Teen&up. 11,215 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Content warning, see tags. "“You—you’re the Spider-Man.” From beneath the mask, a slow smile crept across Peter’s face. Gregory Smith—an ordinary name for a man who wasn’t so ordinary—writhed in his grip. It was so easy to subdue the man; with his superstrength, Peter just had to apply the slightest pressure on good ol’ Greg’s neck and the man was blissfully silent. He liked hearing that line, though: you’re the Spider-Man. The Webslinger. Or, if you were J. Jonah Jameson, the Wall-Crawling Menace. So many names, but all were said with the tinge of fear that Peter was addicted to. They always managed to choke out the words, and he always made sure those were their last."

Better than Beyond Beef by BunsofHoney

Teen&up. 16,313 words. **See tag: Riding the literal bleeding edge of smut. Has a sequel. "Wade took in Spidey’s inhuman appearance. "You look about ready to go hunting." "I… get like this sometimes, when I'm in a lot of pain, or fear, or angry I think. Right now I…I just need a really rare steak, that's all." - When a sudden explosion leaves them both badly injured, Wade discovers that Spider-Man's mutation can make him a little...feral. Wade makes an offer to help Spidey heal faster and satiate his craving. What's a little cannibalism between friends?"

----- fics below this line contain explicit content -----

Songs for the Zombie Apocalypse, a 5-part series by zerospoons_onlyknives (oprime)

First work is Teen&up. Second third, and fourth works are Mature, with sexual content. Fifth work is explicit. 50,000 total words. Zombie apocalypse au, they're not superheroes. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. "Peter Parker and Wade Wilson navigate zombies, religious extremists, and each other as they try to survive the apocalypse. What started as a kidnapping morphs into a weird bond between the two but sometimes it feels like only one of them can survive."

I'm Something of a Scientist Myself by fancastical

Explicit. 11,422 words. Content warning, read tags. "Wade decides to start dousing himself in various synthetic spider sex pheromones before meeting up with Spidey, because why wouldn't he? They have some… interesting results. Wade feels downright scientific."

Upside Down by TheOrangeWritingRanger

Explicit. 56,271 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Content warning for an especially spidery Peter. "Wade Wilson is as happy as a chipmunk in a peanut factory, Avenging by day as Deadpool, playing videogames and eating countless tacos by night. But something is missing from his life, or so say the ever present voices in his head. In the course of investigating several gruesome deaths with his teammates Hawkeye and Black Widow, they discover that something large and arachnoidian is terrorising New York. 'Pool follows some clues, and that cute brunet guy who keeps turning up, and finds himself at the spinneret ends of the elusive spider monster. But is he actually a monster, or is there more to his story?"

Babe Wake Up, It's Pumpkin Spice Season by X_Gon_Give_It

Explicit. 7,460 words. "He glances over the thick black lettering above the picture (SPIDER-MAN AND DEADPOOL: PARTNERS?) and focuses solely on Deadpool. The merc has two guns out in an exchange of bullets with a robber inside a bank. This wasn’t long ago. A week at most. Each shot had been calculated, the bullets never missing their mark, as the smell of smoke and gunpowder drifted  in the air, heavy enough to choke on. Peter roamed over the display of muscles covered by a body suit of spandex and leather. For someone who rarely exposed their skin, Deadpool’s suit had a way of accenting every inch of his body. His steady posture didn’t help. Or those rolling shoulders. His large hands. Again, the feeling stirs in Peter’s gut, more insistently. Urging."

Wade Wilson's Guide to Studying Your Spider by X_Gon_Give_It

Explicit. 114,210 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Content warning, read tags. "After months of working with Spider-Man, Wade Wilson realizes there are a lot more to his hero's powers than meets the eye..." (AKA) "The one where Wade notices that Spider-Man has been acting weirder and weirder, and the more he looks into it, the more he realizes that his not-so-normal partner in crime(fighting) is a lot stranger than he thought."

Hurting, Loving by bubblebeezey

Explicit. 12,454 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Incomplete, last updated in June 2024. "Peter Parker finds himself deathly injured alone in his apartment, and in a panic, calls Wade Wilson. Peter's identity gets revealed under some not-so-nice circumstances, but everything is worth it in the end. Hurt and comfort ensues. (And romance, of course)."

you're goodness; i'm what's in between by strawberxi (Tupipsie)

Explicit. 7,416 words. "“I love you, Wade,” Peter stated, said so casually that one might have assumed they were dating. He said them like they were fact– and Peter supposed they were, if he was making proper sense of his feelings. Wade just stilled. Peter didn't move, and his heart sunk deep into his stomach. Even then he couldn't take the words back, and he didn't want to. - a spideypool getting together fic"

Soup and steam - an earthquake waiting to happen by pandafish

Explicit. 9,219 words. "The worst thing about having the flu when you were essentially half spider was that the fever became like ten times worse. No, scratch that. The worst thing was looking out your window and seeing Deadpool sitting there like an oversized cat, eagerly asking if Peter could come out and play, and wanting nothing but to beg him to come inside and care for his sick friend-lover-vigilante partner. But how could Peter do that when they were supposed to be simply fucking for stress relief, not actually stick around for the truly intimate parts?"

Good Enough (To Be Good To Yourself) by jackmischief

Explicit. 221,082 words. Content warning, read tags and chapter notes. "Peter meets Deadpool when he’s in his civvies, and has the good fortune of remaining unrecognized. But with a friend like Deadpool — and his interesting habit of trying to feed his good buddy Spider-Man — he finds it hard to be too worried. When Deadpool winds up coincidentally finding Peter a second and third time, the merc gets attached to the cute brunet. Meanwhile, Spider-Man and Deadpool are a crime fighting duo tackling strange activity on the docks with suspicious ties to an all too familiar organization. A fluffy, angsty, eventually smutty Spideypool romp with an identity reveal endgame and regular updates on Mondays and Fridays. Rating and tags reflect entire fic. Smut starts at chapter 9."

Spider2703 by kingdomclouds

Explicit. 31,166 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Content warning for brainwashed/tortured Peter. There is a sequel. ""When did they get you?" "I was- Peter Parker was 16 when he went missing. Spider turned 24 when he was born." The words come out robotic, practice making the sentence flow quickly and easily. Wade's hand tightens on his neck before it loosens and let's go completely. "So your name is Peter?" Spider shakes his head harshly and pretends his eyes aren't watering- soldiers don't cry. Wade keeps his grip tight on his jaw, ignoring the mess of venom getting all over his palms. "My name is Spider, serial number 2703." "They've really got you brainwashed, haven't they?" "I'm not brainwashed. Spider is my name. Peter Parker doesn't exist." Spider looks away from Wade's gaze- he can't help it. Those eyes can see right through him. --- Or; Peter was apart of the Weapon X program, like Wade- except he never left."

Medium Rare by MargaretKire

Explicit. 24,562 words. Vampire au. Content warning for everything (spidery) vampirism entails. "Peter just can't get full lately. He eats and eats, but he's constantly exhausted and hungry. Wade realizes what's going on before Peter does. And becomes obsessed with getting Peter what he needs- living cells in the form of blood and...other things."

So No One Told You Life Was Gonna Be This Way by Jenetica

Explicit. 32,894 words. Content warning, see tags and chapter descriptions. "Peter Parker's life doesn't need an influx of new, distinctly spidery Spider-Man powers. He would gladly spend the rest of his days not creating tiny spiders from nowhere, for example. Like, in a, "yes please, I'll take two orders of the 'no spider-parenthood lifestyle,' hold the whip" kind of way. And that's only the start of how certifiably nuts his life has gotten lately. But... okay, the spiders are pretty cute. And the other powers, well, aren't horrible. He supposes. And if Deadpool seems to think his new spidery skills are great and interesting and hot (which is weird, but not as objectionable as Peter would expect), that's... that's not so horrible, either. Alternatively: Peter's powers are a joke, he's broke, and his love life... isn't all that DOA."

Tiny Entanglements by MargaretKire

Explicit. 6,875 words. Content warning, see tags. More Spiders-Man then Spider-Man. "Spider-Man has some hidden desires. So does Deadpool. Things get complicated when Morbius claims to have a cure for Peter’s ‘impure’ DNA. Or: Three thousand spiders in a suit fall in love with Wade Wilson. Featuring: Spider interludes"

Weaver of Silk and Dreams by a_stands_for

Mature with explicit chapter. 73,831 words. More ships with Peter than spideypool, see tags. "Some alternate realities are unrecognizable, and some are indistinguishable. This one lies somewhere in between. Peter Parker's life was derailed when he mutated into a strange human/spider hybrid, and he knows that's not the way things went down for him in other realities. Still, he's determined to forge a new path and make the best of it. Sometimes "the friends we made along the way" really is the greatest treasure anyone could ask for."

Strange by smellslikecitrus

Mature with explicit chapter. 34,900 words. Fairy au. "Peter was just trying his best, as a spider fairy would do. Wade stole Ant-Man's suit during a week-long mission in Massachusetts, deciding to see just how big the forest looks at ground height. Wade accidentally discovers fae creatures in said forest. Cue the title."

He is Soundless From Afar. by elastic honey (infernoconcealed)

Explicit. 15,961 words. Content warning, see tags. "Three part story. 100% based on teamup comics. Every time Deadpools wants to kiss him, Peter's spideysense starts going off. He should hate Wade for killing him. He should swing away and never see him again after what he did. Instead, he starts getting drunk off the feeling."

atlas by a_cry_in_the_wilderness

Explicit. 3,143 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Content warning, see tags. "The first time that Wade tells Spider-man that he’s beautiful, the hero laughs in a way that makes Wade realize that there’s a wound that he’s accidentally brushed against. It’s too late to stop the bleeding, but he tries to compress it anyway. Peter Parker alludes to not looking how Wade expects underneath the mask leading Wade down a spiral reflecting on his own insecurities and expectations."

Cicatrices by WaterMe

Explicit. 9,036 words. Warning for graphic depictions of violence. Content warning, see tags. "Spider-Man is falling apart. Deadpool knows how to put a broken thing back together. (also they fuck a lot)"

hit me with your kill shot, baby by Anonymous

Explicit. 6,613 words. Summary is a mature excerpt. See notes: "Peter going feral with spidey traits during sex."

-----

That's the list... for now. Give me a good ol' bonk if I missed info or cws on any of em, and feel free to give me more to add! Enjoy. Thank you to @disconnected-penguin and @enby-spite for your help!

[greenfrogartist]

Been a while since I’ve drawn anything but guess what

A fanart! For the fic “Missing”by @zoiaeras !

Honestly it’s more of how I imagine Peter’s design to be rather than a fanart, cause usually when I do a fanart I either draw a scene or as I’ve lately been doing draw what I imagine the cover would look like (to be fair I kinda drew the breakfast scene? )

So this is more like a very small character sheets?? And the design is wrong a bit (his hair is supposed to be a bit longer but I only ingrained the choppy hair part)

Tried to keep the blue and red of his spidey suit in, but darker and paler to show the effects Gotham had on him

Honestly the fic is amazing! and the pacing is a chef kiss, and the comedy is on point for me and what I love the most about this is that it’s doing other stuff rather than just sticking to the norm of peter - Gotham crossover

Other characters are present, there is a plot being made and the characterization makes sense for the life the characters lived, and we’re even out of Gotham and introducing other superheroes to the plot like Superman and the flash and also villains like lex Luther

And what’s fun about this fic is that currently, the strongest thing Peter have is his brain, but he is still stupid outside of building stuff (I love this adorable bean)

My most favorite thing about it is probably the plot point and that things are actually happening with consequences to them that change the status que of the fic

The fic feels like a never stopping train wreck about to happen and I’m so excited to see just how big the crash will be and how sharp the debris left of it are

Honestly I can go on and on about this fic forever but that’s mean more spoiler which is a big no no

Just know that if you want a dc x peter crossover, with more justice league characters in it, this is the fic for you

[superums]

why do i cry — 42! miles prt 2.

spidey!reader. angst with happy ending. for general audiences. (cannon) character death. no y/n. childhood friends to crush to enemies to lovers. no official confession but a official confession. part 2 of this fic. somewhat of a accidental confession trope

color coded text: miles. you/spidey.

inspired by: why do i cry - margo guryan

"miles?" you felt like throwing up all over again, looking at the boy you've loved for almost all your life talking down to you. you were almost living the worst day of your life all over again.

you closed your eyes, expecting another barrage of punches only to be met with a hand grabbing your mask. you grabbed his arm but you were too weak to stop him.

in a instant your face was met with the cold snowflakes falling from the sky. readjusting your eyes you saw him standing over you. time stood still—what was a few seconds felt like years, decades.

your body loved faster then your mind did, snatching your mask, you put it back on before leaving him in your wake.

that entire week you genuinely felt sick with heart break. your mother tried to get you out of bed many times but she each time she came your face was wet with fresh tears.

you couldn't tell her why, you didn't want anyone else thinking less of you. instead you told her "i just need time.. please."

she gave you space, cooking your favorite meal every single day until you felt better and each time you did think you were getting better, the image of miles standing over you would come back making you feel sick all over again.

in the four weeks it was almost like you stopped existing from anyplace but your bedroom and in your absence crime started to pick up again, and so did the complaints from the media.

"some hero spidey is huh? kingpin robs bank after bank and that useless web-head is nowhere to be found?! new york this just shows we can't trust that sorry excuse of a hero for anything!"

jonah jameson yelled into his camera—he wasn't alone. from all over new york, anchors were throwing every professional name they could think of at you, miles felt like he was the blame.

in the weeks you've been gone his mind has yet to calm. he was about to kill you, if he didn't take off your mask theres no telling what he would've done.

he's been trying to stay away from you, but now crime is risen and theres been several threats that someone is going to attack the brooklyn bridge he knew he had to find you.

now he's standing in your bedroom. he almost stopped breathing as he stopped your still frame. walking closer, he sat next to your feet gently as he could. it took him forever before he opened his mouth.

"i..." he looked at his gauntlet. "i'm sorry for what i did... what i said." the lack of light of your room hid his the sick look on his face. your eyes were wide open and watering slightly as you saw his dark figure from the moonlight outside.

"i did believe what they said about you—how you killed my father... how you're a murderer... a cowardly killer. maybe since it was....maybe since it was him, it was easier for me to believe." you almost felt sick as you saw him wiping his face and sniffling; he was trying not to cry.

you listened as miles talked to himself out loud; he says that he didn't know how to handle jeffs death and that uncle aaron was the only person he felt like he could turn to.

that he worried his mom because he's out so late and bearly talks to anyone anymore but he has to provide for her now that his dads gone.

it takes him a while to stop talking and after that he sits in your room in silence almost like he was going to say something else, instead he heads to your window.

your open eyes stared into the darkness corners of your room as you contemplated stopping him. you wanted to let him go, you wanted to hate him but your heart wouldn't allow it—grabbing his hand you stopped him in his tracks.

whipping his head to face you, you stood on your knees in your bed, you were visibly disheveled, even shaking as you held his hqnd. "miles, i....." you were fighting back vomit and tears as you looked at the boy you love.

it didn't seem appropriate, he just confessed he wanted to kill you because of the news and that he wanted to make you pay—but you can't hold this in any longer. for as long as you could remember you've wanted to confess to him, now this might be the last time you see him ever you have to get it off your chest.

"miles...i like you—no i love you... even after what you said to me on that roof top." it felt like the world stopped for both you and him, his heart fastened as he stared at you. you closed your eyes, expecting him to leave, to say he had a girlfriend even laugh again you but instead you were met with a hug.

his gloved hand rubbed your back and his head burring itself into your shoulder. "i don't know what i'd do if you didn't..." you two cradled each other for a while before separating to look each other in the eyes. "i didnt mean to hurt you." he says after a moment.

holding your hand, he walked you to your window before opening it again. you squeezed his tighter as you saw him get ready to leave. kissing your cheek, he began to climb out of it. "i'll come see you after school... make sure you're dressed, imma take you somewhere." "y-yeah okay."

your legs felt like jelly as you watched him leave. heading back to your bed, you layed on your back for a moment before turning on your stomach and kicking your feet. "i better hurry up and get to bed.. i have a date tomorrow."

taglist: @lunagalaa @awow-2 @coffeeandtealol

[rpking99]

OH!

OH!

Ooooohhhhhhh!!!!!

You arrogant fucking self-righteous ASSHOLE, Lowe!

So this is the letter page from the most recent issue of Amazing Spider-Man. I have Blue-ed out everything not important. And.... Yeah. Just FUCK YOU

For the TLDR: This person called out how the book has been going in circles, Peter has been destroying himself and how Peter's life has not progressed at all since 2008 when One More Day happened. Ending with him pointing out how the decades before OMD, Spidey HAD grown and changed. And how that had been what Stan Lee, Steve Ditko and John Romita Sr did with the character.

And what does Lowe say in response?

"How do YOU know what they want? I think they wanted it to be like this. Yes there have been stories that changed Spidey in the last decade and a half, but it always returns to the status quo. Because I think Spidey growing up and maturing with the audience is stupid and he should just be the same forever because it makes things easier and I hate change."

And before anyone is smart, I know he didn't say those words. But if you know literally ANYTHING about language analysis, you can see the "political speak" he is using and see what he really means

Like... How disrespectful can you be to pull out Stan's memory to try and dismiss a complaint like that. The person mentioned how Spidey grew and change in the decades! Using them and their runs as examples! But you try and use their memories as a dismisison, as a defect, as a fucking SHIELD.

Fucking GROSS!

Here are something's that have changed over Spidey's time that have stayed/that effected the characters and had a lasting impact until One More Day

He had a thing for Liz Allen, but they broke up.

He had a thing for Betty Brant, but it went nowhere.

He got with Gwen, she died.

He got with Black Cat, they didn't work.

He got with MJ.

They got married.

MJ got pregnant.

Peter gave up being Spider-Man and moved away.

(yes, them loosing the baby happened. And Peter became Spidey again. But at the time these where permanent changes and even when undone they still had effects for a decade onwards)

MJ changed carrier THREE TIMES.

He started working at the Daily Bugle. Yeah, that's right. Peter wasn't with the Bugle right away. It toom a while before that was a thing

Peter and the Symbiote

Peter graduated HIGH SCHOOL in his first YEAR of existing. But every adaptation sees him stuck there

And that is just shit off the top of my fucking head.

Peter Parker had always been about change and growth. Keeping him young when other characters grow makes him seem like a terrible person. Reed Richards and Sue Storm, two people he seems as family, not just got married but had two kids, both of whom are nearly teenagers, across Peter's life as a hero! Yes magic aging up shit happened, but still. It's the comparison

If you want a 'relatable' Spider-Man, you have Miles. Heck, I'd say that's his purpose so you can let the older one continue a journey

Because change is how you KEEP readers.

@pugsbone

@the-blackbird-roleplays

@tokufan400

@freeusemuses

@delugedecade

@fun-loving-harem-king

@padthedemon

@chiefatticcreator

@stripclub-elysium

[bookshelf-dust]

a camaro and a tree.

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 2,764

warnings: swearing, innuendos/billy being a flirty asshole aka being himself, mentions of neil, fluffy/lovey shit

a/n: hii :)) happy holidays! i hope that you’re enjoying whatever you celebrate, and if you don’t celebrate anything, i hope you are enjoying life in general. i’d been tossing this idea around and around in my head for forever, and i finally wrote it! i really hope you enjoy it. billy and readers first christmas while living together? yes, yes i think so. i love you all! <333

————

“You know, there’s a whole ass couch that you could be spread out on in any way you please, Hargrove. I’m not entirely sure why you must splay yourself out on me.”

Billy shook the bag of Skittles in his hand around, presumably looking for the red ones. Those were his favorites, and he insisted they were better than all the rest, though you were adamant that a random handful of them was just as good—no need to be picky.

Billy crossed his legs at the ankles in response to your statement.

The both of you were sat on the sofa in your living room. It had started out with you curled up on one side, but the moment you stretched your legs out to settle on the coffee table, Billy had appeared. It was like he had a Spidey-sense.

And now he was on the other end, legs stretched out over top of your own. This is after he’d lifted the blanket from you to tuck his legs in with yours. Only he had shorts on, so now the warm skin of his calves was stuck to that of your thighs.

Billy was continually sinking further into the couch, and now snatching a pillow out from under your ass to put behind his back.

You rolled your eyes at his continued use of your space. He was surely making himself comfortable.

“You’re like a fucking house cat, you know that?”

Billy let out a breath of a laugh, eyes now on the television.

Maybe it wasn’t very “adult” of you to watch Full House during your free time, but Uncle Jessie had good hair (you seemingly had a type), and Stephanie had an excellent sense of humor.

It was more of a surprise that Billy put up with it at all, since he wasn’t keen on Growing Pains, and liked to stubbornly pretend he didn’t enjoy The Golden Girls. But he laughed at both Dorothy and Uncle Joey, no matter how many times he’d try to deny it.

He also requested you fill him in any time he missed an episode because he was home late from work.

You snuck your hand under the blanket to rub up and down Billy’s leg, fingers tracing from below his knee and across his thigh. He hummed his appreciation.

Eyes wandering from the tv, this being an episode you’d already seen, you realized how empty your living room looked.

Now maybe that was partially because the both of you did not have an abundance of furniture—a couch, a table, a stray oversized chair—but also because it was those slow few days before December began and you didn’t have a tree up.

This was the first Christmas that Billy and you would be spending in your shared little apartment, and you were rather excited about it.

Christmas hadn’t always been peaceful at home, for either of you, people being picky or whiny or just assholes in general.

But living with Billy made you feel whole. You felt safe with him, and he you.

It was just that this time, Christmas was up to you. You could do whatever you wanted and cook your favorites, or maybe not even at all. You could decorate however you pleased.

You turned to Billy, watched as he lifted his arm, pulling the chain on the floor lamp next to him, muscles shifting under the yellow light.

“When do you want to get a Christmas tree?”

He set his Skittles down, pulled his legs out from under your blanket. He propped his head up against the back of the couch with his arm, looking dreamily at you.

“You mean like buy one? I don’t imagine picking out a boxed tree is gonna be that hard.”

You sat up. “Ha! Oh no, baby, we are not getting a fake tree.”

You watched his brow furrow. “I’m pretty sure we dragged the same shit tree, box and all, from California to Indiana. Neil Hargrove was not keen on the idea of having to take care of a me, let alone a tree.”

You grimaced, and he continued. “You want to pick out a real one?” He tracked the movement of your head, your excited nod. “I’ve never done that before.”

You sat up on your knees. “It’s fun! We did it every year. Sometimes we’d pick one that was too tall and we could barely get the star on. I guess I thought we’d get to pick one out too. But if you’d rather an artificial one, that’s fine Billy.”

His hands found your face, callouses rubbing at your cheeks.

“No, sugar, a real one is fine. I assume you know where the hell we go?”

————

It took some driving around, but eventually you wound up at Merrill’s, wandering through the lanes of pines with all the other families and too loud children.

Billy walked behind you, hands stuffed in the pockets of your coat. Not only did you have little hand warmer packets, but Billy had yet to get a good pair of gloves.

He had finally relented and started wearing layers when it snowed, though that did not mean he’d done it without pouting.

So now, as the both of you sidestepped a stray toddler barreling through the thin layer of powder on the grass, the only bit of him that wasn’t actually warm were his hands.

You walked him to the shorter section of trees, thinking about how small your home actually was.

“What do you think about this one?”

You reached through the branches to grab hold of the the trunk, pulling it out and spinning it around to check all the sides.

“Stand next to it,” you told him.

“Sorry?” he questioned, obviously confused.

“You’re my size reference. Don’t,” you raised a hand, stopping him because he’d already opened his mouth, “make a dick joke. You can touch the ceilings when you raise your hands, so this is my measuring, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Billy gave you a two finger salute and moved next to the tree, it being just about the same height as he was. “Good?” He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Yep.” You heaved the tree back into its place, glancing at the aisle number before meandering through to look at a couple more.

Most of them were too tall, and because of that, too expensive. Even some of the shorter ones would’ve cost a pretty penny because of how nice they were: perfect shape, a dark, rich green, branches thick with needles.

“I think I liked that first one best, baby.” Billy’s breath was warm against your neck where he’d leaned over your shoulder to speak, what with a family of six standing right next to you, chatting exuberantly.

“I was thinking the same thing, Mr. Hargrove.”

You grabbed hold of his belt loops, tugging him along with you in search of your first tree.

Luckily, it was still there, and you made sure to put your hands on it, because there was a frightening looking woman eyeing it from across the way.

You hugged the tree, which brought out that sweet sweet laugh of Billy’s. “Let’s get this one then, huh?”

You nodded before pulling away, realizing you now had tree sap in your hair, not to mention an abundance of needles that you’d probably still be brushing out later.

Billy retrieved a cart to set the tree on, and you watched him lift with ease, wishing that was you he’d thrown over his shoulder.

“You’re staring.”

You pushed the cart towards the tree-trimmer, ignoring his statement.

Billy’s hands snuck up to the back of your neck, and then he was tickling you, cold fingertips dancing across your skin.

“Ignoring me now?” His voice was gravelly from the chill in the air, throat gone dry.

“Never. But I think the staring is allowed when we live together. You’re much too pretty for me.”

“I am gorgeous, aren’t I?”

You rolled your eyes at him, knowing you’d set yourself up for that one, and he planted a chilly kiss to your temple.

————

The drive home was short, but slightly terrifying. The Camaro was not built for having a tree tied to the top of it, and you were fidgety the whole trip.

Billy glanced your way before he pulled into the driveway. “You doubt my rope-tying skills, Y/N? Frankly, I’m offended.”

You opened your door before he could, which only spurred him on.

Billy pulled a pocket knife out from the glove compartment, flicking the blade open and cutting the ropes on your side of the car.

“I think we both know I excel at tying things up.”

“Billy,” you groaned his name, holding onto the tree so it wouldn’t slip while he cut the other side.

You could hear him laughing to himself, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster you.

The both of you slid the tree off the roof of Billy’s car, and he tossed you the keys.

You ran up the few stairs, unlocking the door and propping it open before going back to help him bring it inside.

While you were halfway through the door and feeling brave, you spoke. “You better behave yourself or we’re gonna find out how good my rope-tying skills are, Hargrove.”

You set the tree down, flying back out the door to get the stand out of the car before he could say anything.

Upon your return, Billy grabbed you by the waist, pinning you against the freshly closed front door.

“That’s not really threatening when you know I’d let you do whatever you wanted.”

You could feel yourself burning, and you tried to bury your face in his chest, but he caught your chin, quickly pressing his lips to yours.

When he pulled away his lips were that devastating shade of pink, and he was looking at you like you were everything in the world and more.

“Don’t go all shy on me now,” he propped his arm against the wall above your head, “now that we live together and whatnot.”

You grinned at him, and he kissed you silly for it.

————

It took a few days, but the tree had been successfully watered and kept alive, though it was still bare of any ornaments.

The lights had been easy to choose at Melvald’s, and Joyce had helped you pick out some she liked to put outside too.

So, gradually, both Billy and you had been bringing home a menagerie of bulbs and things for the tree, determined to make it your own and not have some shop-window-looking thing in your home.

One afternoon Billy gets off work early, but comes home to find you out and about, having left a note on the counter for him.

When you do come home, he’s in pajama bottoms and an old shirt, staring into the fridge like something’s going to hop out and prepare itself for him.

His face lights up when you emerge into the kitchen, arms immediately reaching for you, but you stop him with a raised hand. He practically frowns.

“I got you a prize, Billy baby.”

He propped his head up, hand under chin. “A prize?”

You nodded, wrestling with the bag on your hip, finally pulling something free.

“Hold out your hands.”

You plopped a small ornament into his hands. Specially a square one that looked like a vinyl sleeve, the tip of the record itself sticking out the side.

The sleeve was black and red, tiny writing across the top that said Metallica. It looked like the Kill ‘Em All album.

Billy looked up at you, eyes glossy. “Where’d you find this?”

“At the record store. They had a big tree with assorted ornaments for popular bands on it, I thought you’d like it. Do you?”

You watched as Billy flipped the ornament over in his hands, ran his thumb over the edge of the little black record, the top of the sleeve.

“‘Course I fuckin’ like it, baby.” He was giving you that prize-winning and swoon-worthy smile. The one you tried to tell yourself didn’t work on you. But that would just be a lie.

He scooped you up in his arms, squeezing you tight, lifting you just enough that your feet left the floor.

“The guy at the counter gave me a discount since we come in so often. Got myself one too.”

Billy set you down, walking to the living room to find a spot on the tree for his prize.

“I don’t get to see that one too?”

“Well yeah, sure. I was just excited about yours.” He watched you reach down in your bag for the other ornament you were supposedly housing. Sometimes with the way you searched for things in there, Billy thought you might as well be Mary Poppins.

You pulled out a simple gold ball that had the Queen logo on it in a black glossy film.

“That’s cute. Can I put it on?”

You nodded your assurance, watched dreamily as he put in on the tree.

Part of you couldn’t help but picture a smaller, much younger version of Billy doing the very same thing. Maybe with his mother.

“What’re you thinkin’ about, hon?” Billy’s voice broke you out of your stupor.

“You. What Christmas might’ve been like for you when you were younger. I was gonna ask if you even like it at all or if you’re just doing this for me.”

Billy continued to decorate the tree, opening a pack of Scooby-Doo ornaments that he’d found the other day—all five of them and a small Mystery Machine.

“Hold out your hands.”

You did, and Billy placed the ornaments along your palms so he could slip hooks in them.

“I do like Christmas,” he started, put Velma on the tree. “It was just always an ordeal, you know? First with my mom and Neil and then Susan. What we were gonna eat, if we had the money for presents at all, if I deserved anything.”

Shaggy and Scooby went up. Then Fred.

“It was just miserable, I guess. Everything was always such a big fuckin’ deal. But I don’t know, I guess I liked the atmosphere, or some shit? I guess the world feels a little more calm this time of year, though I know it’s not.”

Daphne. The Mystery Machine.

“And when we were in California and had to go see the little bit of extended family that we had, it was always ‘Billy you better behave,’ or ‘Don’t be an disrespectful,’ or anything that made sure I wasn’t going to fuck things up.”

“So I don’t think I ever had a chance to enjoy it. Not until you.”

He was silent for a minute plugging the lights in on the tree. “I better not turn around to see you giving me those watery eyes.”

He spun around, locking eyes with you. “No dice, huh?”

You shook your head. “Can I have a hug?”

Billy didn’t respond, but scooped you up his arms anyways. “You can have a hug whenever you want, baby.” He pressed a warm kiss to your forehead.

Billy’s hugs were all-consuming, the kind where there isn’t anything else in the world except for him. He tucks his cheek against your temple, wraps one arm around your shoulders and the other your back, hands rubbing all over, running down places they shouldn’t.

“So you liked your ornament, really?” Your voice was muffled where you face nuzzled his neck, metal chain warm on your nose.

“Yes. I love it.” His hands found your face, pulling you up from the safety of his chest.

“I love you, you know. And I meant what I said about enjoying this with you. Because I am.”

You pushed your hands under his shirt, the fabric coming with it because of how your arms were raised, trying to leech the heat from him.

“Kiss?” Billy was using that sultry tone, the one that made his words all slow. The one he used to butter you up.

“You can have a kiss whenever you want, baby.” He rolled his eyes at your mimicking of his earlier words.

You planted your lips firmly against his, enough that he sighed into it, breath warm on your face. You kissed him once, twice, three times before you pulled away, looking up at him, his lashes kissing at the corners, frown lines forming because you’d let up.

“I love you too, you know,” you told him, and his mouth was back on yours within the second.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[jester-lover]

Hobie with a Desi! S/O

cw/ fem! Reader, horrible attempt at writing British people, including multiple desi cultures bc my girlies need all the representation we can get (it’s slim pickings out here) all fluff, some cultural struggles, but everything is resolved, mentions of insecurities

(LONG POST- headcanons and a drabble)

I'm goth and I had a literary awakening when Hobie showed up

There are literally only two ways I see the two of you meeting

The first involves you being a friend/relative of Pavitir’s, who is exceptionally happy his two homies are getting along

In this situation, Hobie would know a little more about you from the get go, and you most likely would know about him (Pav thinks he’s so cool, he’ll talk about his friends to anyone who’ll listen)

Another; in my opinion, funnier, way for the two of you to meet is him accidentally crashing a desi wedding when he’s on Spidey business

You would be mildly peeved with him for disturbing the wedding, but his spunk and generally opinionated personality make you fall for him

Either way, congratulations! You have the world’s loveliest punk boyfriend

As a boyfriend, Hobie loves helping out in any activity you need help with

He’s the type of boy who tries his absolute hardest to be there for any event that is important to you

No matter if its a massive grad party or a late night pizza run, Hobie is there and having the time of his life

Now, moving onto the cultural aspect, Hobie adores learning about other cultures

Your family is weary of him at first, because of the way he dresses primarily

He manages to find a place in their hearts after they see the way he treats you (with respect and dignity!!!!)

Also the fact that he eats whatever your mom makes, entire plate, man will lick it clean

(I mean, have you seen how much British people love takeaway?)

“Is your mum home yet?” “She’s making something good I bet, she always is.”

He can HANDLE spice, and he’s good with kids (his interaction with Mayday proved that to me)

Your parents may end up, in a shocking event, liking him!

Hobie is your biggest hype man whenever you wear cultural clothes, especially if they’re a little on the edgy side, dark colors and all that

Lehengas, shalwar kameez, sarees, etc, he loves them all

“You're dressed up, aren’t you?”

He’ll explain it to you in this mysticised ‘stepping on eurocentric beauty standards’ type of way, but you know deep down he just thinks you're super pretty

He’s obsessed with your features, no matter what you look like, he thinks you have the most perfect face in the world

If you ever make Hobie Desi food, he’ll be in love with you forever

He loves pani puri, especially if the pani is a lil spicier

His love language is acts of service, and you making him something to eat is like, you are nourishing him?? With bomb Desi food?? he’s is seeing heaven rn

He most DEF asks Pav (who then asks Gayatri) for advice on how to impress you

This leads to him, hanging onto your windowsill, with a Mendhi tube in his hand, and a calm smile on his face

As Hobie slid off his mask, his gorgeous hair fell to the sides of his sharp face. Placing the spiky mask on your side table, he sauntered towards your bed, abruptly sitting down and motioning for you to follow him. 

You sighed, and smiled as you took your spot in front of him. He was alway so considerate, taking your interests into mind whenever he swung by.

“You know, I’m not a pro at this or anything.”

He grinned, almost wolfishly, and placed the small sharp tipped tube into your lap.

“I could care less, do anything on my hands.”

You gently took one of his hands into both of yours, spreading it out to see the flesh of his palm, his nails were painted red this week, courtesy of you, of course.

His long bony hand flexed as you gently took off each of his silverish rings, one by one. 

You were completely focused on this simple act, treating him with a gentleness only you could offer him, a complete contrast from his usual existence. 

“I don’t have a lot of time today, my cousin’s getting married, we have to go to some pre wedding events.”

Hobie perked up in interest, sliding his free hand to smooth out your gingham sheets.

“And what do you plan to wear?”

His mind flashed through all the traditional clothes he’s seen you in, each more ornate and beautiful than the last.

“The lehenga most likely, the peach-ish one, with the sparkles.”

You undid the little plastic pin at the top of the Mehendi tube, applying a slight pressure and making a small line on his palm to start out with.

Hobie looked at you closely, remembering the last time he saw that specific lehenga.

“That one’s cute.”

You laughed a little, looking down at your messy drawing.

“I was going for a flower but it sorta looks like a palm tree.”

He looked down at his hand, a messy smudgy, and less than finished flower was on his palm.

“Maybe, a couple more petals on the top, yeah?”

You squeezed the Mendhi tube again, carefully drawing three extra petals on the top.

“There! I think that's good.”

Hobie looked down at his palm and kept a laugh back, poorly albeit.

The flower wasn’t necessarily bad, just a little wonky.

“It's absolutely beautiful.”

You smiled.

“Hold your hand still until it dries, then peel off the crumbly bits, okay?”

Hobie mockingly saluted with his other hand, matching your smile.

“Anything you say.”

You giggled, taking his face in your hands gently, careful to avoid snagging one of his piercings.

“What am I ever gonna do without you?”

His expression turned a little soft, keeping his smile steady.

“Let's hope it never has to come to that.”

[lovecanbesostrange]

Please know that since yesterday I am mentally trapped in these two panels. There is actually a lot I will miss Krakoa for, but I also felt a bit of resentment throughout the era and this family is a big reason why. NOW that we are in the last stretch of burning it all down and the new X-launch is in reach, we'll get this wedding special. And we finally have all four together in a panel. NOW?! I bought X-Men Unlimited #4 in either fall of '94 or spring '95, solely because of the cover. 30 years of waiting. Let me live in this moment for a bit.

Look at what they are doing with the art! Oh sure, Mystique and Nightcrawler are the blue ones. Pair up Destiny and Rogue next to that to make them look similar enough as well. Only for my brain to scream "but the personalities are the other way around!!!!!!!!". Irene and Kurt work on faith and believe in possibilities and reaching out to be better. Raven and Anna Marie typing this out makes me feel weird are the ones who will kill a bitch and say they will darken their soul so others don't have to. Plus there is the element that they both have lived more than one life and their sense of self is distorted .

They've come a long way, okay?!

Yes this is exactly what it looks like. For plot reasons Nightcrawler was too weak to teleport and dangling off a cliff next to Mystique. And of course Rogue could only save one and before she made a decision Mystique said "I make this for you" and let go. I still like to believe she flipped them the bird when she fell. Because she is Mystique. "HaHa! Take this, you think I'm the worst mother ever, but you will have to live with a moment of nobility from me!" (Also Destiny knew this would come, and she fucking knows there is something good inside of Mystique. It just comes out... different. And needs very specific circumstances.)

Apart from X-Men Evolution (and the X-Men Forever alternate history comic with its very special vibes), we have never gotten any bigger acknowledgement of this family. And Irene has been cut out. Either conveniently on account of being dead, or because she's an old lady and clearly just a gal pal, ahem. (It's also very funny to me to go back to their first appearances, where the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants has the biggest Three Stooges energy ever. I needed Mystique, Destiny, Rogue, Pyro, Blob and Avalanche to have a drinking contest on Krakoa. That is what Krakoa was supposed to be about!! You needed to give us 200% domestic nonsense, fun and games. So it would hurt everybody when it was inevitably taken away. EVERYBODY needed to find happiness in that place in unconventional ways.)

Sadly not my original thought (I don't have those), but recently I read some comment where somebody said that with Irene being his bio-mother, Kurt should have inherited a type of precog-sense, a sorta spidey-sense for teleportation. A natural ability that he won't teleport into an obstacle. And I would be so on board with that. (Also funny, because Ms Marvel had that type of sense and I could pull up panels where Nightcrawler tried to trigger that in Rogue.) Would it be weird to add that now? Sure. But also super cute and helpful.

My deepest gratitude goes out to the fanartists who have doodled and sketched and painted cute family moments for them out of time. Now canon can catch up. Imagine their dinner conversations. N: "Logan is my best friend." M: "Oh, that reminds me there is this blue furball running around with his and my powers. I don't even remember if we ever had sex or not, we're so close in age and have these memory gaps." N: "Mutter, nein!" D: "You should ask him out, you two would make a cute couple. Trust me." R: "You're setting up Nightcrawler with Wolverine and keep giving me grief over Gambit?" M: "He speaks too much French! Wolverine might be Canadian, but at least he's not a Franco-Canadian!" N: "So I couldn't date Northstar?"

Do not get me wrong though. Mystique and Destiny are horrible people and they will stab others in the back. They have worked for the government, they have plotted assassinations of government people. They have fought alongside and against the X-Men. I don't want them tamed or be reasonable. I want their mess. I want them as anti-villains. Because they don't do heinous things for nothing. They like to create less horrible murder events than what could be... some writers just liked to go overboard with the scheming and forgot the sympathic undertones, which I want to cling to. And we deserved a time of peace on Krakoa. Truly imagine a Mystique who was happy on Krakoa. And the absolut batshit villainous energy when it's burned down against her will... now THAT would have been something. Instead of baking resentment into the foundation.

[elliespeach]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ my stuff n thangs

series

tear you apart part one. part two. part three. part four coming soon

ellie owns her own vinyl store and the day you wander in changes both of your lives forever. she quickly becomes infatuated with you, desperate for your love that she believes is meant to be. when things in your life begin to spiral, ellie is there to catch you, but you'd never suspect she was the reason you fell in the first place.

the air that i breathe part one. part two. part three in works

a camping trip you and ellie embark on takes a devastating turn. with you in the hands of raiders ellie's sanity is brought to her breaking point and she will stop at nothing to get you back.

no chances part one. part two. part three. part four. part five. part six. epilogue. finished series

you and ellie are on rival volleyball teams and your dangerously competitive nature gets the better of the two of you.

you belong to me part one. part two. finished series

ellie’s crush seems to spiral out of control one day on patrol and now she’s left to face the consequences. 

one shots

smut

the black lace

basic training

angst

play nice

i'll be home soon

fluff

meet cutes with modern!ellie

ellie won’t kill a bug

head cannons

spidey!ellie

festival!ellie