#I do actually own a variant of the one on the right though

[bunjywunjy]

I'm going to attend a two-day geology conference wearing these

[gatorbites-imagines]

Love me some bratty wolverine but I NEED my obedient sweet sub too 😋 wolverine who's just so desperate for praise and being told he's good, needy and never knowing how to properly ask for it and just ending up whining and pleading to near tears.... letting you take all the control and being so frightened and uncertain until you're showering him with reassurance and praise

Logan Howlett x male reader

Headcanons

Super exhausted, we did an event as my new education place (what do you call the place you take a bachelor’s degree in english?) that went until ten in the evening, so I’m still pooped. Hope this is still enjoyable though.

How’s everyone else been doing lately? This ended up being more focused on the comfort and relationship part of it, but I hope that’s good too.

I believe the Wolverine from the Deadpool and Wolverine movie would be the type of Logan you are looking for. He’s been through so much, lost so many people, has been hurt so much and lives with such a deep guilt and self-hatred.

In the beginning he wouldn’t show it, especially if you were someone who knew him, or some variant of him, in the past. He has an image he needs to live up too, or at least that’s what Logan thinks.

To him, he doesn’t deserve anything nice or soft. He doesn’t deserve to be loved or cared for, which in the end just ends up being his Achilles heel. Logan has starved himself so much for any kind of affection or care, that when he starts loving somebody he becomes like a dog.

Not a happy wagging panting dog, no. more a starved, dirty, covered in cuts and sores, kind of dog, desperately pouncing on the tiniest sliver of food you throw his way.

In the beginning, Logan would try to deny these feelings completely. Again, he doesn’t think he deserves to even love somebody, especially not somebody as great as you. So, he tried to suppress it. but that only adds onto it. the stuff we try to suppress only comes back stronger; didn’t you know?

That’s why he tries so hard to stay cold, rude, mean, anything he can to chase you off. If you leave first, then it wont matter, right? But damnit, you stay. And you just seem to cling on tighter the more he struggles, like those dogs so used to fighting and snarling at everything for their own safety, finally being taken in by someone whose patient enough to love them, and wait for them to feel safe.

And when Logan finally starts to feel safe, letting down his walls little by little and oh so slowly reaching out. Then he becomes insatiable. In the beginning its small things like standing closer to you, his leg pressing against yours, him bringing you stuff that reminded him of you.

But soon he can’t help but be all over you, only when you’re alone though. You end up with 300+ lb. of hairy gruff Wolverine, glued to you like he needs to be close to you as much as he needs air to breathe.

This is also where you discover that he completely melts when you run your hand through his hair or beard, his eyes almost rolling back as he arches into your loving touch like a sunflower reaching for the sun.

This dynamic also follows into the bedroom. Here Logan starts out thinking he’s gonna be the one in charge and on top, as he’s always been in past relationships.

But when you show signs that you like to make the orders and tell him what to do, Logan is honestly relieved to let the ropes go, falling to his knees with a lump thump and crack, the floor splitting under his weight and desperation to just be good for you, to be loved.

You never thought you would see Logan of all people cry, but you quickly learn that praise is the way to get him there. You were terrified the first time he started silently crying as he rubbed his face back and forth on your knee, a minor tremble in his shoulders. But you learn it’s because he’s so overwhelmed by the fact that somebody actually still loves him.

Logan has spent all this time being in charge and being on edge, that he’s almost desperate and begging for you to take charge. Hed crawl down the street on a leash if that’s what you wanted, all that matters to him is your love, your praise and acknowledgment.

Of course you wouldn’t do that, and you worry a lot about his comfort and safety. It doesn’t take you long to realize that Logan will bend himself backwards to please you, even go further than he’s normally comfortable with.

This leads to you having to give him a scolding that has the mutant falling to his knees and clinging onto you, as if you were gonna leave him behind too. Communication has been and always will be hard for Logan, but over time you pick up his physical cues.

You still like to have him tell you in words what he wants though, just to be sure, but also for him to practice. Even when he’s near tears in pleasure you still want Logan to tell you what he wants, how, and where.

You two always end your times together with a long cuddle, the cuddling lasting longer than what you did before since Logan soaks up your love like a sponge that just never seems to end. You swear he purrs, even if Logan denies it vehemently.

[underoossss]

the only one I trust

miguel o’hara x fem!reader | 1.5k | fluff | no y/n

❥❥❥❥❥❥

Saturday sunshine enters through the window. It sneaks between a gap in the curtains and ends up shining on your face. A single ray of light hits your left eye as you sleep, and the warm feeling and brightness slowly stirs you awake. You scan your surroundings as sleep begins to leave your body. The large glass windows partially covered by the curtains, the Alocasia plant next to them and the dark brown nightstand framing the right side of the bed.

It's all familiar and comforting to you, a place you’ve called your own for a while now, and that’s welcomed you every day since you moved in. You know the temperature outside in Nueva York is close to chilling, and feel suddenly grateful for the bed’s warmth. The soft comforter, and the warm body next to you. It makes you pause for a moment.

Looking down, you notice you notice you’ve gone full octopus on Miguel; an arm over his chest, a leg over his waist, his skin like a furnace through his soft t-shirt. A glance upwards confirms your boyfriend is indeed asleep next to you, a rare thing for an early riser like himself. The clock on the nightstand says 8:30am and the iPad haphazardly perching on the edge of the bed tells you all you need to know. Of course. He’s been working in bed while you slept to keep an eye on you.

You smile, snuggling closer to him, hand slipping under his shirt as you do so. Protective, you think fondly.

“Morning.” Miguel’s raspy voice mumbles, waking up with your touch. “Feeling better, mi pulguita?”

You’d gotten injured on a mission with him the day before –Earth 4509, Goblin variant. Miguel was a hurricane of emotions when it happened. He felt guilty and worried about you; angry at the anomaly, and mad at your recklessness. Despite all this though, your boyfriend fussed over you in the medical center for an hour, before bringing to his apartment –which is now yours too– and taking care of you for the rest of the night.

The medicine, high tech procedures over at the Society, and your own spider healing got you better in no time –but Miguel’s a worrier. You can’t blame him; you’d be the same about him, it’s a good thing he rarely gets hurt.

“Good as new.” You say after a yawn makes you pause. “Surprised you haven’t gone to the lab yet.”

“Wanted to keep an eye on you.” Miguel stretches slightly, catches the iPad before it falls off the bed, and turns towards you. You were right.

The motion brings you with him and a moment later both of you are lying on your sides. You shift further up the bed to be eye level with him. “Hm you’re making me feel special, Miguel.” You smile and move closer to hug him close to you. “I love having you here, you know?”

“In bed?” Miguel jokes, one of his hands skimming over your thigh until it settles on your waist squeezing it briefly. All his casual affection makes your heart beat wildly in your chest, this is no exception.

You roll your eyes at him and his soften while he looks at you. “Here, with me in the mornings. I feel lucky to see you like this, is all.”

“Well you wouldn’t let me leave.” Miguel sighs, pretending to complain until you raise a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Never stopped you before, babe.” You bring a hand to his hair, messy and tousled from sleep but still soft. Perfect.

“There’s no one I trust more than you, you know that.” His voice is a hushed thing as he moves so his face settles on your neck. A soft kiss is placed on your skin not a second later. You’re sure he feels your pulse jump. “I wanted to stay.”

You smile widely, closing your eyes at the series of kisses Miguel leaves on your neck. “I actually feel a lot better now. The scar is gone too.”

Miguel’s fingers make their way under your shirt, carefully feeling at your abdomen and finding nothing but soft skin and the gooseflesh he raises. His shoulders relax even more as he keeps his hand there. “Gracias a Dios.” He sighs. “Please, don’t scare me like that again.”

“I didn’t.”

“Pulguita…” Miguel sighs.

“I won’t go off on my own again, I promise.” You mumble apologetically. It’s how you got hurt in the first place; Miguel was battling the Goblin variant, and you ran off to get some civilians out of the danger zone. Separated, the Goblin decided to send his Glider your way and as you shielded the civilians from the device’s blades, your abdomen got hit. It pierced your suit and skin, leaving deep gash all the way across.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the phantom of the stinging wound even though it’s completely healed. “Don’t worry so much, okay? Your face is too pretty for that.”

“Pretty huh?” Miguel’s teeth scrape affectionately at your earlobe before kissing the spot underneath it. He smiles when you shiver.

“You know you’re gorgeous, gorgeous.” You grin, pushing him away and moving so you’re sitting on his waist. His dark hair is a stark contrast against the pillows, the ray of sunshine from before falling on his face now. Tiny specks of light brown peak through his eyes with the light. It takes your breath away and draws you to them at the same time. He is lethal up close, a kind of beautiful you thought only appeared in books or movies. You can’t help but hum in appreciation.

Miguel tilts his head at you, a thick eyebrow rising in question. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m flirting with you.” You state simply, a truth he already knows. He can read you perfectly, a man of facts and data, single focused when he wants to be. Ever since you got together, his sole focus has been you, aside from the multiverse of course.

Your answer makes Miguel laugh; a full belly laugh that shakes your body where it sits. Your smile is inevitable once you see his and you chuckle along with him as you trace your finger over his features. He is a delight to see when he’s carefree; a rare sight that’s become more common lately. Despite his teasing and the consequential ego boost he will have, you look. His cheekbones, thick eyebrows, beautiful expressive brown eyes and gorgeous jaw. If you could you’d write poems about him anytime you looked at him. But you’re no poet, you’re just a girl. A girl with an otherworldly boyfriend she wants to kiss.

Leaning down you brush your nose against his, teasing your lips over his before placing a careful kiss in the space underneath his jawline, then another and another until you reach his lips again but pull away. Payback from his own teasing kisses earlier.

“You’ll be the death of me, mi amor.” Miguel smiles, a mischievous yet sweet thing that makes your heart leap on your chest again.

You grin, lips widening into a full smile as he sits up. Miguel’s arms go around you while he kisses your top lip. It’s a fleeting thing but tender enough that you sigh happily. His lips move to kiss your neck again and the exposed skin on your cleavage, making your guard go down.

His hands are warm, you can feel them through the fabric of your top and his breath is hot over your skin. Heaven, you think, closing your eyes with a smile.

Until Miguel stands up suddenly and decides to throw you over his shoulder in a firefighter carry.

“Breakfast first.” Miguel says the smile on his face clear as day in his tone.

“What am I going to need some energy?” You tease, squealing when Miguel squeezes your thigh –he laughs again. You squeeze his ass in retaliation. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Like I said, the death of me.”

❥❥❥❥❥❥

hope you liked this! reblogs are always appreciated!

masterlist

[love-anddeepression]

EVERYTHING IS FINE- Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

this is it. angsty asf. bittersweet ending it’s sad people. tw: infidelity. based on my most recent post. please comment i’m literally begging you and tell me how you like it<3

Part 2

In the depths of your heart, you already know. Your Miguel is not yours anymore.

You remember the stolen glances between him and Dana where you pretended not to notice the palpable tension between the three of you amidst the throng of about ten other people in the house.

It was a nice dinner that you’d planned, after spending almost a week away because of your actual job as well as your little side gig that was being a part of spider society.

But fifteen minutes into the little shin-dig and you get a call from none other than your boss. Not the nice one who showed you the ropes when you first joined and provided you with hours of mentorship. The bitch that was a variant of your husband was currently floating above your watch as you glared at him in the bathroom.

“We need you.”

“Not today.”

“It’s an emergency.”

“It’s always an emergency.” you roll your eyes.

“Look this was unplanned, you think my life’s aim is to torment you?”

“Kind of.” you nod and he groans, “Give me twenty minutes.”

——

At the end of twenty minutes, you storm out of your house as quietly as you can, yes it’s an oxymoron but you’re pissed off.

At Miguel, at your husband, at yourself.

Your mother always said that you were one to pity yourself, even when every bad thing that happened was the result of your own actions. All your life you’ve disagreed, but now you think that maybe your mother was probably right.

None of this would have happened if you’d just said no. No to Dana making her way into your marriage to her guy best friend and co-worker.No to the variant of him with fangs and red eyes and No to your own urge of fucking things up because you wanted to see what happened. If maybe what your heart felt was wrong. That there was nothing wrong with you and Miguel, that he still loved you.

You let out a shaky breath and open a portal from an alleyway behind your apartment building. The purple hue reflects onto your face. No, you weren’t a spider. Just a traveller that stumped your boss and changed his perception of everything he knew about the multiverse.

The man himself nodded at you as you stepped onto the platform he was standing on, looking back to the holo of what looked like a rogue Doc Ock, Goblin and another Spiderman.

“What, now we have evil spidermen? Isn’t that breaking the canon?” you raise an eyebrow.

“That’s the thing. There’s no canon event broken. He was meant to be a villain. Yet, I’ve never heard of him, or of this universe.”

You look at him like he’s just told you that he used to be a stripper in college and all his money came from his side-gig, “I’m sorry, what? The all powerful Miguel O’Hara with the pixel suit doesn’t know of the existence of a universe?”

“You’re being real helpful right now.” he grumbles.

“Thank you, I knew you’d appreciate the help.”

——

The house is quiet when you walk in, evidently everyone has left. The kitchen has been cleaned and the lights are off.

He’d always been your biggest supporter. Always so humble even though he had a high position and a fat paycheck, always telling you to let him help you. Doing some of your work for you when you were busy.

The bedroom door creaked a little as you enter, the sound of your loves breathing makes you crack a small smile. His hulking figure curled up and moving up and down. His face slack.

God he was so beautiful.

You shed your clothes and go through your night routine as fast as you can. Brushing your teeth and scrubbing your face. Cursing the pimples that always make their way onto your forehead at the wrong time.

The mattress squeaks as you get on, slowly wrapping your hands around his body. He stirs and looks up at you, his eyes softening. He’d been drinking, you can tell. He hasn’t looked at you like this for a while.

“Hi.” his hands cup your face and you smile softly as you kiss his rough palm. Your own covering his.

“Sorry I disturbed you. Thank you for cleaning up.” your hands mirror his actions, thumbs caressing his cheekbones.

He answers you with a soft kiss. And then another. And his hands are travelling down to pull you to him. Engulfing you as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. Your hands move to play with his hair as he drifted back to sleep.

You close your eyes and pretend that everything is fine. That the lipstick stain on his shirt in the laundry basket wasn’t the same as Dana’s.

———

“Are you fucking dumb?” O’Hara seethes, as he disinfects the gash at the bottom of your neck.

“It’s just a graze, i’m fine.” you grumble, “it’s not like anyone’s gonna care if i die.”

“No, just shut your mouth. Stop talking like you’re some martyr. There are plenty of people here who would miss you.”

“Miguel, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” you chuckle, “i get it-

“No, you don’t. actually, you don’t get it. the woman i loved died, and she’s gone and i’d do anything to have her back, and you’re so convinced that if you died your own fucking husband wouldn’t want to die too? Stop acting like you’re expendable.” his eyes glow and yours widen, “This may come as a surprise to you, but people care.”

You gulp, “Sorry.”

He grumbles under his breath as he sprays the wound with bacta so it heals faster. Apologising when you wince.

You look at his concentrated face that is focused on wrapping the bandage around your shoulder and the bottom of your neck. His face is mere inches from yours. He is the splitting image of your husband, save from the red eyes and fangs. But this close you can see the differences, his eyebrows are a tad thicker and his ears are smaller.

He is harder and his words are sharp. Your love is soft and quiet. Mean when he has to be, but kinder. More open.

More loving. Yes. He’s more loving and he loves you.

You look away and focus on the ceiling. You don’t see his eyes watching your face. Eyes filled with sadness and want.

——

“Dana, here. Have some tea.” you pour a cup for the woman sitting next to Miguel at the table. At your spot.

Is it toxic to think that maybe you want her to choke on her tea?

She’d started to carpool with Miguel a few months ago , seeing as they worked together and were on the same team, it was more efficient and made more sense.

You didn’t want to seem like a toxic wife so you nodded and agreed, because you were secure in your relationship with your husband.

“Thank you.” she says your name with a wide smile as she sips the tea, “Amazing, as always.”

“I know right, she makes amazing tea.” he smiles at her and raises an eyebrow. Dana snorts.

You look between the pair trying to hide their smiles, “Did I miss something?” an awkward smile makes its way onto your face.

“Inside joke, you wouldn’t get it. It’s a scientist thing. I don’t think your writer brain could handle it.” Dana waves you away as if you’re a fucking waiter and you bristle.

But what drives it home is that Miguel laughs out loud when she says that. His hair flops onto his forehead and Dana fixes it for him, her hands running through this hair.

You fight the urge to break a plate on her head but you know it’ll be fruitless. Because your husband will take her side.

Maybe you’re just being dramatic. Maybe the tears you’re trying to hide as you make breakfast are unwarranted and you can’t take a joke.

Everything is fine.

You call out to them from the kitchen, telling them you’re going to be late and his voice is brighter when he says, “Okay, honey.”

—————

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, boss.”

“You look dead.”

“Your eyes bags suggest the same.”

“You’re hilarious.” O’Hara smirks

“Thank you.” you take a sip of the beer he’d passed.

It was late, far past dinner time. And the both of you had taken time to go over the record of what anomalies were most common and key weaknesses in most villains.

“But seriously, are you okay?”

You gulp, “Tell me about your wife. Please.”

He blanches, and then looks at the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Well, where to begin?” he turns to face you, “She…was a writer, she had her own business. She loved sunflowers because they faced each other when the sun wasn’t in the sky.” he smiles sadly, “she was terrified of frogs and dead fish. And she hated onions. The pickiest fucking eater.” he shakes his head and chuckles.

“She sounds sweet.” you know she was variant of you, Miguel had shown you the web of life and in every universe there was version of you that made their way into his life. It was beautiful, honestly.

“She had short hair, and her smile. God, it could make anyone’s day better.” he rested his head on his hand and looked at the hologram shining in front of the both of you.

“She sounds like a dream.” you reply.

“She was.” he nods.

“Hey would you mind bringing up a live of my house?” you ask.

“Why?”

“Humour me, will you?”

He grumbles and a hologram showing your universe pops up, on the screen is your living room. And Miguel freezes when he sees the scene before him.

He sees himself kiss Dana. The version of him who is married, is kissing his co-worker. He’s taking her in his arms and nuzzling her nose. He’s pecking her cheeks and tickling her like she’s his wife.

Like he’s in love with her.

“I love you.” his voice echoes throughout the room. And Dana says it back.

His head whips to look at you. You don’t look surprised, rather, you look defeated. You breathe out like it’s a finality. Your beautiful beautiful eyes transfixed on offending scene in front of you.

Before anything else happens, he shuts it off. Immediately turning to look at your frozen form, “Hey, you with me?”

You shake your head and smile. Eyes still fixed onto where the hologram was, “I’m fine.” Tears fall down your cheeks as your mouth quivers, “I’m okay. Everyday he comes back around this time. And they carpool. I told him I’d be late today. Just after I made them tea and they laughed at an inside joke amongst themselves.”

His eyes widens, “Oh honey.” his moves to hug you and you let out an ugly sob, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I knew it.” you say into his chest, “I’m so fucking stupid.”

His hand pats your back, “You’re not stupid.”

“I mean, I know i was busy, i know i wasnt always home. But I tried, i fucking tried. WHAT IS SO WRONG WITB ME?” the dam breaks and you let out a wrecked shout of agony that breaks his heart into two, “Why wasn’t I good enough?!” your body shakes violently.

“No.” he says firmly, taking your face in his hands, almost squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to looking at him, your hands fly to cover his, “ You are good enough. You are enough. Listen to me. That fucking idiot doesn’t know who he just lost.”

“But-But if i wasnt so busy-

“If he had a problem, he should’ve told you. He’s a fucking pussy.”

Your words are silenced when he shakes you once, hands still holding your cheeks, “You are the most perfect person. And the both of them will pay. I promise that, cariño.”

His arms wrap around you to engulf you as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, rapid breaths slowing. His pulse beats and you can feel the vibrations on your own skin.

You close your eyes and pretend everything is fine. Because you’re in his arms.

[thehivemindsys]

Eddie Gluskin Headcanons because I cannot stop thinking about him and im bored

Happy holidays, I usually just am not happy during this time of year so I’m pushing down my emotions and writing angst. Enjoy. Tw: Self harm, CSA, rape, misogyny, violence, typical outlast stuff.

-Eddie hates bathing and has to be physically restrained if the doctors wish to get him clean. This is mainly due to his CSA, as Eddie was attacked a lot while he was in the shower-but it is also due to him feeling uncomfortable with being nude for long periods of time.

-Eddie hates dogs. His family had a dog that was specifically trained to bite him if he commanded it to. Eddie doesn’t own any pets, really, and believes that cats are too “feminine” for him.

-During his initial murder spree, Eddie killed around 34 people-men and women, who he all gave the definition of “bride” to. He was found not guilty by reason of insanity, and was sent to Mount Massive Asylum. For a time, he actually had a proper psychologist before he was eventually signed up for the Walrider program after he attacked the wrong guard.

-Eddie has diagnosed Schizophrenia, BPD, psychosis, and could possibly qualify for a DID diagnosis.

-Eddie could possibly qualify for DID because he has a few seperate personality states: a younger version of himself, trapped within his childhood, “The Groom,” the dominant personality states, and a version of himself that is haunted by his trauma, and rather prefers to be alone. Though it is unclear if this is DID or just due to his BPD (he does dissociate from reality quite often, though).

-Eddie’s favorite movie growing up was Sleeping Beauty, and often quotes it to the best of his memory. He believes that Prince Phillip is the perfect depiction of a devoted husband, and Aurora is the most beautiful woman in the world.

-Sketching and tailoring are his favorite hobbies. He most often draws women in goregous dresses, and has a very traditional Disney-like style to his artwork.

-Eddie believes that it is the 1950s and is incapable of perceiving the current year as it is. He writes things like computers, camcorders, and cellphones off as “advanced space-age technology.” Don’t ever ask him to operate a computer because he would have absolutely no idea how to do it.

-If Eddie could comprehend the concept of a trans person, he would for sure be a supporter-due to his psychosis and delusions, however, he couldn’t comprehend it even if he tried. He can’t even comprehend that he may be gay.

-Eddie may have targeted women before the asylum, but once he was incarcerated, he practically exclusively targeted men-even when there was a female presence in the asylum, he didn’t attack them nearly as much as he did the men.

-Eddie is actually a pretty damn good chef. He has to be, considering his only qualification for a good “wife” is that “she” has to be alive and breathing. (Even then…)

-Eddie has a love for salted caramels.

-Eddie has a hard time keeping his anger in check, and rarely keeps his hands to himself. He was transferred to an isolation cell after he groped a guard, and he was never really allowed out of maximum security afterwards. This, plus other forms of inhumane treatment at the hands of Murkoff, eventually led to his mental health getting worse and his transfer to the Walrider program once it was deemed that he was “too far gone.”

-Eddie may be a charasmatic, boisterous man but deep down, he is suffering from crippling lonliness and deep seated insecurities that will likely never fully go away.

-Eddie did self harm before he was transferred to Mount Massive.

-Eddie’s best friend in the asylum is Frank Manera canonically, but he does have a rather good relationship with many of the Variants, including The Twins and Chris Walker. He and Frank used to have cells right next to one another, and communicated through a hole in the wall.

[wyllaztopia]

You mentioned that if we know Denji’s characterization of Killer and Killer’s original backstory that we should understand why he’s so touch starved and has such a messed up definition of love. Is there any way you could tell me who Denji is?? I’m very curious now lol

Denji is a character from Chainsaw Man. I recommend you read the manga or watch the anime - though just the anime alone won't grasp the inspiration I derived from the character into Killer.

I also took inspiration from Gojo Satoru (Jujutsu Kaisen) but more so from his younger self more than the present Gojo.

(These are just drawn for the sake of meme-ing, not actually AG Killer's design)

Further down is explanation and slight spoilers. I don't talk much about it since I want most information to be a slow burn reveal for the characters, as if the audience is getting to know the AGDT cast in real time. (I am a sucker for narratives where it keeps you wanting to psycho-analyze a character rather than revealing everything upfront.)

Starting off with Denji, he's a teen boy who suffered through poverty and taken advantage of for labor just because he's willing to do anything just to get by in life. He's a boy who will do anything to live a normal teen life without having to worry about if he'll die from starvation. Along the story of CSM, he's been treated poorly due to how easily he can be manipulated - he literally has no idea of his own rights as a person. He's also very emotionally unaware because he's lived all alone his life except for a friendly devil named Pochita, who gave his heart to Denji so he can live and become chainsaw man to protect himself. Again, this is just a rough summary I made of Denji's character and I can't exactly explain it here! I recommend watching character analysis video that can further explain him or- you can also check at the original source (manga or anime) yourself which I believe will be worth it since CSM is such a good story.

In AGDT, I suppose you can consider Chara as Killer's Pochita, but in a more unhealthy / partners in crime way. I'll leave that up for the future to explore since at the moment, that's not what I want AGDT to focus on.

As for young Gojo, he's also complicated. He believes himself to be invincible and he can rub off as cocky most of the time. In the story, he holds no compassion or positive feelings for people who are weak - which is essentially everyone for him since he views himself as the strongest. This changed for a while when he was tasked to protect someone - he grew fond of them. However, later on this care disappeared when he perfected a technique - his feeling of pride for himself was stronger than his care for the person he was meant to protect. Gojo is usually nonchalant and playful, also emotionally unaware most of the time as he only thinks about himself (and a fellow 'strongest one' ahem, Geto but that's something I'll ramble for another day). However, he does go absolutely crazy when he's in intense fights since he's absolutely determined to win out of pride.

I would love to talk about what else Killer takes from Gojo but I'd feel like I'd be spoiling everything so I'll leave it for another time to talk about or explore.

There's other medias I took inspiration from for other parts of AG Killer but again, it's a subject to navigate around another time.

I hope this gave some insight on how this variant of Killer is and I hope you enjoyed reading through it!

[meowmeowriley]

@sergeantwoods Sorry for the long wait, but here's the mer!AU

Think I'll call it Fish Out of the Sea

Ghost x Soap, blacktip reef shark mer!Soap, human Ghost, fluff, getting together (kinda)

Ficlet after the cut 😘

"No."

John sighed, he didn't seem surprised by Shepherd's hard rejection, but he kept trying. Simon had to give props to the fishing boat Captain. "You have the best mer rehabilitation facility in the country. It'd be a shame not to use it."

"You said you had a mermaid. That's not a fucking mermaid, John."

"I said I had an injured mer." He repeated himself from their earlier conversation.

"I'm not taking that thing into my facility."

"He needs help-"

"He's hideous, and aggressive." Shepherd barked. "That thing keeps lashing out, it'll scare patrons, attack my staff, and if that *thing* touches my mermaids, tries to mate with them, I'll have it put down."

"Mers are actually matriarchal, sir." The mer expert, Kyle, finally spoke up. "I've never worked with a shark mer before, but I do know he won't mess with Kate or Rosa, because they won't want him. Since they're together."

"Kyle. For the last time, the mermaids aren't lesbians. They're just fish." Shepherd was one of those who thought of mers as lesser than humans. Obviously.

Simon was standing near the door. No one had noticed him sneak in, but when he'd overheard that the mer was a shark variant, he'd needed to see it. Now, seeing the poor thing huddled in the corner of it's transport tank, curled in on itself, he felt so bad for it. He watched, any time someone went near it it flared out it's dorsal and pectoral fins. It would gnash it's teeth and charge the glass. All signs of aggression in a shark but... as soon as it finished its display it was right back to the furthest corner from the humans. It kept peeking at them over it's own shoulder when it thought they weren't looking. He quietly crept closer.

He took in it's markings, gray on it's back, white on its belly, black tips to it's fins. Claspers on its pelvic fins. A male blacktip reef shark then. His inferior end was all shark, something Simon was very familiar with, as he took care of all of the sharks here at the aquarium, several of them blacktips. His superior end, or top half, he supposed a visitor would (incorrectly) consider it, was new and interesting to him. Though he was vaguely humanoid, his skin was all two tones white and gray, like his tail. He had a wedge shaped snout in place of a human nose, a wider mouth with jagged teeth. Slitted eyes, and a black tipped fin atop his head that reminded Simon of a mohawk. Webbed gray and white hands with black claws rubbed up and down it's own arms in a self soothing gesture. One forearm had an odd angle to it, probably the injury that landed him here.

He retreated from the tank quietly before speaking, interrupting the squabbling of the other men. "He looks like a reef shark to me." Everyone else jumped. "Blacktip reef sharks aren't aggressive. Sure they can get a little iffy during feeding, but they're more curious than anything."

"He's been charging the glass, Ghost." Simon managed to suppress his eye roll at Shepherd's nickname for him. They all called him that here. "Fuck you mean 'not aggressive', you don't know mers."

"No, but I know sharks. He's injured, and defensive. You ever think he doesn't like us because it was something shaped like us that broke his arm?" John winced, he obviously felt bad about it. Not like he could've know he'd caught the mer in his net, but it was nice to see some accountability from a fisherman for once.

"Well we can't communicate with him, so he'll stay scared and defensive." If Simon didn't love the sharks, he would've left this place a long time ago because Shepherd was an absolutely abrasive cunt.

"Kate and Rosa can. And their English is excellent." Kyle spoke up again. "We have them pass on the message of our intentions, and Ghost and I tag team his rehabilitation." Of course he uses the dumb nickname too. "It's the perfect plan! And an incredible opportunity to be one of two aquariums to actually work with a shark mer. The novelty of something so rare will bring in patrons." Kyle was really leaning into Shepherd's true interests here, bringing up money.

Shepherd was quiet for a moment and then, "If anything happens, you're both fired." He then stormed out of the room.

"Thanks, Gaz."

"Of course, Cap."

Now the three of them had to get the shark mer into an appropriate tank.

***

They had initially tried to put him in with the other mers, but he'd seen the sharks in the tank across the hall and told Kate he wanted to be with his own kind. That would make Simon's job easier, anyway. Kate had explained that they needed to put a cast on his arm, and Rosa had wrestled it onto him, since the humans couldn't get too close. They decided to name him John, after Captain Price, calling him Johnny affectionately. Gaz explained to Ghost that part of rehabbing Johnny would be gaining his trust, teach him to communicate. To release him without a way to communicate could lead to him attacking humans and being a problem down the road.

Simon had a plan: ignore him. He was a reef shark, his own curiosity would get him to open up. It took a week.

Simon would feed his sharks from a catwalk above their tank, for safety reasons, dropping their food in in the mornings before they opened their doors. No need to scare any children. For the first week, any time he passed by, Johnny would posture aggressively and gnash his teeth, before snatching up his food and swimming off. When Ghost would gear up and go in the water for his evening shows, Johnny stayed far away. At night, Gaz and his mers would move over and Ghost would mostly just observe as the girls tried to teach Johnny how to speak, and he petulantly ignored them, with a little pout on his face as he refused to even make eye contact with them. It was cute.

The first time he tried to speak was also the first time Simon saw him raise his head above the surface. He seemed frantic. "HAAAH!" He startled a bit at what was most likely the first time he ever used his lungs to breath air. "HAAAAH! AH! YAAH!" he was waving with his good arm. Stretching it out towards the platform between his tank and that of the other mers, thrashing his tail with his fins tucked in. Very distressed. Simon went to check, to see what could possibly be bothering him so much, when he found their elusive fourth mer. Simon had only seen Gary once. Gaz called him Roach, because he hid in the tiniest cracks in the reef in their enclosure, why on earth the isopod mer was on the platform, and not in the water, was beyond him, but he couldn't let the poor thing suffer. He had several of his little legs caught in a grate. Simon spent some time disentangle him. He tossed the infant sized mer into the nearest tank, which happened to be the shark tank, with Johnny. The larger mer immediately dove to catch him. He stroked Roach's antennae back like one would the hair of a small child, a soothing motion. Clearly not as much of a loner as he pretended to be. From then on the little isopod mer could be found clinging to Johnny's sides or fins with his many little periopods more often than not. After that, it seemed that Gary encouraged Johnny's more curious side. The mer's language was mostly outside of the human range of hearing, but Simon occasionally caught clicks, whistles or hums shared between the two.

Simon had left a bucket with soap close to the edge once, the two mers were clearly curious about it, but he didn't think anything would come of it. Which is why it was such a surprise when Johnny stuck a webbed hand in and scooped some out, popping it immediately into his mouth. Simon knew it wasn't enough to harm him, which is why he couldn't help but laugh at the poor creatures misfortune as it sputtered and writhed, making bubbles. While laughing he let his guard down, and was surprised when something struck him, knocking him off the catwalk and into the tank. He opened his eyes and looked around, seeing only Roach, floating downward, listing side to side, tiny head in his tiny hands. He surfaced to see Johnny. "Did you just throw him at me?!" Johnny sunk down so only his eyes and cranial fin were above the water. The little shit. "Not cool, Soap!" He forced his palm out towards the mer, sending a spray of water its way. That seemed to really break down the mer's walls.

Johnny started approaching while Simon would try and clean the tank. At first, darting away if Simon caught sight of him. Eventually however, he would get closer and simply observe. He'd watch Simon work at cleaning the glass or vacuuming the sand at the bottom. It was fun to see shark behavior and mer behavior collide. If Simon sat something down, Johnny would pick it up, and without a doubt if he could get it in his hands, it would end up in his mouth.

There was a small crowd, a child's birthday party had been held over by Gaz's mer tank, the girls were always a hit with the kids, and the little show they put on with Gaz was actually pretty funny. They'd harass him as he pretended to try and do his chores. Slapstick comedy was good for all ages.

Simon had his own show with his sharks, but it wasn't for a few more hours. He was actually just trying to clean. Apparently his cleaning sponge had caught Johnny's attention, as the mer had swam up and was watching him intently. He kept inching forward, eventually crowding Simon against the glass while reaching for his sponge. "Oi!" He said into his respirator, not that anyone could hear him. He shoved Johnny away and kept trying to cleaning, but the persistent bastard just kept coming back. He could vaguely see the crowd observing them through the glass. They were probably laughing. When he'd had enough, he got an idea. He turned when Johnny got close again and placed one hand on his dorsal fin and the other on the underside of his snout. He began to rub at the sensitive underside of the mer's snout, and just like his sharks, the mer entered a state of tonic immobility. He repositioned Johnny, nose down tail to the surface, Johnny's arms hung limply down past his head. Simon quickly withdrew his hands and watched as the mer continued to float for a bit, before blinking vigorously. He shook his head before righting himself, and slapped his tail into Simon's chest as he practically fled to his little cave at the other end of the tank. When he surfaced later, Gaz informed him that the kids were raving about how cool the 'shark guys' were.

Simon had to admit that Johnny was growing on him. He looked forward to seeing him each day. Johnny began trying to get Simon to swim with him. He'd grab Simon's arms and try to pull him into the water when he was on land, or he'd push Simon away from the glass and his cleaning supplies, towards the open water. Sometimes Simon would indulge him, and the two of them would make laps around the tank.

Simon realized, when Johnny began posturing towards the sharks and getting territorial about him towards them, that Johnny was attempting to court him. Worse, he couldn't bring himself to try and put an end to the behavior either. Johnny was getting touchy, he'd run his hands along Simon's sides or chest, in much the same way Simon would to per his sharks, but it felt different. He would push Simon until he floated horizontally in the water, then drape himself across the man.

Simon knew he was getting himself into some deep shit, but he couldn't help the small voice in the back of his head that urged him to reach out, to cradle the mer's rubbery cheeks in his hands. He wanted to kiss him. He was fucked.

***

I hope you liked it! Ngl, I really liked this one. If you don't mind, I might expand on this and make it a multi-chapter fic over on AO3? I wanna explore more of society's reaction to mers, specifically interspersed relationships and where this could go. Let me know what you think, and thanks for the idea!

[lunastrophe]

BG3 Drow Lore 🕷️ Minthara's Childhood

Some thoughts on Minthy's childhood in Menzoberranzan:

🕷️ Assassination Attempt – being almost killed was likely among Minthara's earliest memories: I survived my first assassination attempt while I still suckled at my mother's breast. I tasted her blood that day. She covered my body with her own, and a blade bit deep into her chest, almost puncturing her heart.

We do not know why somebody wanted to kill her - the assassination might be orchestrated by some relative, for example, or some other person who wanted to weaken her mother's position in the family. Minthara was likely important to her (see this post).

🕷️Lessons of Early Childhood – Minthara was being raised by her mother instead of being fostered to some other relative, like it happens with less important drow children: My mother taught me to talk, to walk, and then to kill. I still hope to thank her by teaching her how to die one day. In another line, Minthara says: I had every advantage, and my mother showed me how to survive.

As a female and Baenre, Minthara was infinitely more privileged than many other drow kids in Menzoberranzan – at the same time, though, she lived under enormous pressure, striving to meet her mother's high expectations. A failure meant a punishment, and little Minthara probably quickly learnt that in her world, failures can be deadly.

🕷️ Lessons In Killing? – Minthara most likely started to learn how to survive the perils of Lolth-sworn drow society when she was still very young.

It is quite possible that she scored her first kill before actually reaching adulthood – in one of her lines, when she is asked at what age it is right to set a child upon mortal combat, she answers: The moment it can hold a blade. It may even test its resilience against some common poisons while it is still in the womb.

We do not know if her own mother was building up her resistance to poisons in such a way, but in another line, Minthara says: my mother would have poisoned her own milk to torment me. So... who knows.

🕷️ Protected And Tormented – Minthara says that there was no love between her and her mother. As an adult, she reflects that her mother protected her with one hand and tormented her with the other, and admits that her relationship with her ...may not be the best model to follow.

🕷️ End of Early Childhood – in noble drow families, sons typically start to serve the household when they are around ten years old and when they are sixteen, they are officially recognized as members of their house. During the family meeting in the chapel, they receive the house piwafwi and then their mother - or matron mother of their house - makes decisions about their education and future.

I doubt that daughters of noble drow families need to serve the household as children - but maybe after reaching a suitable age, they start to visit the family chapel, for example, to observe and learn basic duties of priestesses? In case of Minthara, it would probably mean spending some time in the huge, domed chapel of House Baenre.

🕷️ Young Baenre - noble drow girls probably have their own variant of societal rite of passage around their sixteenth birthday, celebrated more grandly than that of noble drow boys. Maybe it is also a formal ceremony in the family chapel, followed by less formal celebrations - maybe even a party? Some drow version of "sweet sixteen"?

If yes - then most likely during this ceremony it was officially announced that Minthara is to be trained as a soldier in Lolth's service. It was probably one of the most important moments in her life, especially since noble females are typically trained to be priestesses - if they want to pursue a different career, they need their matron mother's permission. House Baenre apparently recognized Minthara's talents early.

Minthara's early training lasted for several decades - until she enrolled into academy.

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

[niobiumao3]

Anyways, here are some random tidbits I swear I'm not actually writing this except maybe I am who knows anyways...

At the time she convinced herself it couldn't be him. They'd killed any clones whose chips hadn't activated. So it was just her imagination, a desperate attempt to find any excuse to cling to the hope he'd survived, as she had, probably for similar reasons: pure, stubborn refusal to let the Empire win.

***

Later she would accept that she'd known it was him from the moment she saw him standing in the line up. Not because she could see his face--they were all helmeted and wearing identical, dusky black armor--but because she'd have known him anywhere by stance and posture alone. They'd not fought side by side in the war for over three years for her to forget him, any of them really but especially not him.

But won they had. Memories of her life before the Inquisitorious were fragments, seemed more like dreams described by a different person. A wild young Jedi and her squadron of variant clones. It sounded like a children's story, in some ways was less painful to tell herself that's all it was. Otherwise--

"Your assigned operative will be CX-2."

The Grand Inquisitor's voice drew Fifth Sister back to the present. Though the armor the clones wore was all identical, not all of them were the same size. The one they'd stopped in front of was taller than average, shoulders broader. This was important somehow. (Another way she knew it was him.)

Fifth Sister looked the operative up and down. His hands were clasped behind his back like the others, and he stood perfectly still. This wasn't the stillness of rest: he was poised, ready, waiting. A knocked arrow.

"CX-2," she said, and the operative nodded an acknowledgement. She looked askance at the Grand Inquisitor. He and his own operative--CX-1, a shorter clone with a broad chest--were watching the two of them intently.

"How do I refer to him?"

"Operative should be sufficient," the Grand Inquisitor said. Fifth Sister made a face.

"Won't that be confusing if multiple of us are assigned to the same mission?"

The Grand Inquisitor shrugged. "You can use the designation in such cases."

She fought down a sigh, considered the operative in front of her. He gave the distinct impression he wasn't looking at her, which annoyed her for some unfathomable reason. Why should she care if he paid attention to her, as long as he followed orders?

The Grand Inquisitor held out a hand to his operative, who gave him a datarod. "Your first mission is to intercept a shipment of cargo bound for []." He offered her the datarod. Fifth Sister took it, eyes narrowed.

"Cargo," she echoed. The Grand Inquisitor arched an eyebrow at her.

She considered his expression. There was only one kind of 'cargo' with which the Inquisitorious concerned itself. "Force-users."

"Very good," he said. But he was still waiting. Which meant...

"Potentials."

The operative in front of her said, "Younglings."

It almost startled her to hear him speak. His voice was modulated, rendering it garbled and rough. And he'd just corrected her.

"Potentials are by necessity young," she said, voice sharp.

Either be didn't notice, or didn't care, because he said, "Not always. You were not."

Probably sensing the fury swirling into being within her, the Grand Inquisitor said, "Quite right, CX-2. However, that was only to found the Inquisitorious. From this point forward our potentials will be younglings."

The operative's head tilted for a moment, then he nodded. Fifth Sister took the time given by this interruption to reign in her anger. Killing her operative for the high crime of being precise wouldn't go over well with her superior.

The Grand Inquisitor continued, "You have three standard rotations. Report in if you require assistance or if the mission exceeds these parameters."

Fifth Sister nodded, jerked her head at the operative and strode towards the hangar deck. He was tall enough she had no hope of outpacing him without use of the Force, another minor irritation.

After a minute or so she realized he was careful to keep his distance behind her precise, even if she slowed down. He never allowed himself to be in front of her. In her way.

"It's going to be hard to address you if you're always behind me."

"I can hear you perfectly fine from this position."

"But you can't see my face. My expression."

"I am unclear on how that is useful."

"Depending on the situation I'm not always going to be able to say what I mean."

"I am more than intelligent enough to intuit such instances."

"*Really* . So this isn't just an excuse to get a good look?"

Confusion rippled around him in the Force. "At what?"

She sighed, shook her head. "Nevermind."

***

"It would be best if we--"

She tied off the bandage with a sharp yank, causing him to fall silence with a grunt. Between cleanup around the other gash, she said, "If you're about to suggest something *idiotic* like I should leave you here so I can return the [] and then come back for you? You can keep that shit to yourself."

Her voice was sharp and even, the way it was when she was well and truly angry. Yet unlike in those moments, when he sometimes thought he could feel the Force rising around her, aiming to strike down her enemy, there was something else hovering around her. Tenuous, wavering. Brittle.

"I was not going to recommend you return for me."

She made a frustrated sound, looked away. "You really think I should leave you hear for the sake of some--some fucking *missives*. We don't even know if they'll be useful."

"They are vital to the mission."

She started to say something, stopped. A sensation ripplied through him almost like fear. Almost. He didn't know what she'd been about to say, except some part of him *did* know, knew it was something they couldn't come back from. Best to not give voice to it, make it real.

She licked her lips. "I'm not likely to get out of here without you anyways."

"That is untrue." He took up his datapad, winced as the bandage on his side pulled. He took a moment to catch his breath, brought up the schematics. "There is a route here which will be possible for you to use. Together we would likely be seen or caught, but on your own it--"

"Not an option."

He held in a sigh. No one could move her when she dug in her heels like this, save the Grand Inquisitor, sometimes Fourth Sister. "If you are not back in one rotation they will depart without you. Those were the mission parameters."

"Then we find our way back on our own."

"My injuries are such that leaving this planet without the asistance of Imperial resources will be extremely difficult, if not simply--"

The medkit next to him rattled, the lantern jostled. He fell silent, waited and watched as she struggled her eyes shut, one hand formed into a fist so tight her nails would have drawn blood from her palm if not for her gloves.

The tremor abated. "I am not. Leaving you here. And that is *final*."

He sighed, considered his datapad again. In the corner of his eye he noted a hairline fracture in the lantern's shroud. "In that case."

[scrubbinn]

Slime HRT Day 1: First Pages

I was told I should write down my experiences in this journal. I'm only really doing this because I was told I didn't have to share my writings with anyone except for emergencies, whatever that means. Today is the first day of my new life, and becoming something not human anymore.

I've seen a lot of social media about species HRT. I think it’s supposed to be “Human Removal Therapy”. There’s a lot of people online bashing it, and I'm sure someone is going to try and ban it eventually, but for right now it's pretty unrestricted. To be honest, I am fascinated by it. Becoming something inhuman seemed so, I don't know, cool I guess, but it felt distant, like it would never happen to me, or I'd be labeled a freak by my friends. It was only until my girlfriend brought it up in a passing conversation that I gained the courage to admit I was curious about it. She said I should go for it. The amount of joy I felt then and there was like a 20 ton weight had just exploded out of my chest, but in a good way! We spent the rest of the night talking about treatments and articles, I never felt so happy except then and there, to be seen like that.

My legs were shaking when I met with that doctor. I was told it was normal to be nervous, but it really felt like I was going to just have a breakdown the entire time we talked. There was a lot of psychological exams and way, WAY too much paperwork that basically said I was sure I would be happy and cool with going through with this process. The doctor was patient at least, though he was rude with how little he tried to hide the boredom of his job. Besides that, there was something about him that just made him feel like this was the last thing he wanted to do, the kind of man who’s a total pushover. We eventually got to the question I was dreading “what was I here for, what am I looking to be?” My voice just suddenly stop working right there. It's so funny how I saw an actual dragon on my way here and somehow my request seemed so much more ridiculous. That stupid doctor kept prying me to just tell him until my frustration surpassed my anxiety, and I was able to blurt out that I wanted to be a slime.

I don't know when or why, but I've always liked the idea of slimes. It's their fluidity I think. Being able to morph myself the way I want whenever I want. I mean, how can I trust I'll be happy with my body shape everyday when I can't even pick a favorite color. I spent so much time writing out my own ideas of how their biology worked, or creating a bunch of slime girls for stories I never finished writing. It took me a while to realize I wanted to be just like them, like how it took me a while to realize I wanted to be a girl too.

I thought I'd get laughed out of his office, I mean I've seen the photos and stories of people on slime HRT but it just felt different, like I was going one step too far, I was probably just super anxious, I felt so relieved when he just showed me a list of slime variants instead of laughing. There were so many different options on the list, slimes made of just gel, sap, wax, and there were so many different colors, but that was the problem, they all felt right, I wanted to be any of them.

It was so selfish to ask, but I needed to know if a slime that could change color was possible, or something that could truly transform into any kind of slime. He asked what I meant, if I was looking into becoming a shapeshifter. I shook my head no and said I wanted something like a chameleon. He took off his glasses and pinched his nose, like the weight of every request he ever had just hit him. We, kind of, argued for a while. Well it was him telling me all the different reasons it wouldn’t work or how some people had set up safe LED strips to become a slime strobe globe of different colors, but for some reason it was the one thing I didn’t want to budge on. The one thing I was certain I wanted was that I wouldn’t be certain about my final choice. I was actually ready to just punch this old man until he suddenly folded to my demands and told me he'd need time to make a new variant for something like that. Something about a membrane and chromatophores I think. He also stated, bluntly, that I still needed to pick the type of slime. Being able to switch from red to blue is one thing but there needs to be a base. 

There were a lot of good options, to the point it took me an hour to go through everything and just think about it. I was probably pushing him a bit too close to his next appointment with how long I was searching through options. It certainly makes me wonder how anyone can just know the answer right away. Eventually I had to settle on one and chose the soap variant. I was told it wasn’t actual soap, but it smelled nice and helped deal with germs. I’m not a germaphobe but I like the idea of smelling nice all the time.

After that, I was told I would be contacted eventually when my medication was ready. The wait could be best be described as brutal. There were a lot of calls I made only for me to be told it wasn’t ready yet. I thought I got scammed, like I went to the wrong place and that quack doctor was just faking everything and I wouldn't ever get to be the real me. The most I got was a message once a month saying the research was going well, if I was lucky. 

It was about a year when I got a call back from him, explaining that my medication was ready. I'll be honest, I thought he wouldn't have ever completed it and just stole $600 out of my bank account for a single appointment. I have it now though, a bottle of gel capsules. They taste awful, like shoving soap into my mouth, which makes sense thinking about it. Apparently I won't need to take my normal hormone medication after a bit. Which is good because it's really expensive to pay for both. I guess that concludes my thoughts on the first day. The doc wants me to keep writing down my physical changes but also that I write down my emotional state as well. I don't really get why that’s so important, but whatever, it’s the least I can do if I finally get to be the slime girl I always wanted to be. I can't wait to see how I turn out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next

Thank you for reading through this story. While I’m sure it’s obvious, this is a story inspired by @ayviedoesthings own Dragon HRT as well as @welldrawnfish Fish HRT. I’ve loved these stories ever since they first came out. But I never felt like I had a story of my own to write until I read @sandyca5tle own slime HRT. Please check out all these people’s stories if you haven’t already, and thank you to sandyca5tle for really lighting the fire in me that made me want to try my hand at this sort of thing. I have plans to continue this for a while, not sure how long it’ll be but I want to be able to write a new segment at least one post every one to two weeks. I hope you enjoyed this, and please let me know if you have any advice on how to improve my writing. Thank you so much for reading all this, seriously, it means the world to me. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Dear Raven ven venny ven, do you have any favourite ships in the twst cast? If so, why?

I don’t have any ships among the TWST cast that I’m crazy about! That doesn’t mean I “hate” all the combinations, it’s just that I feel neutral about most of them. I would say I’m pretty open to considering rare pairs and all kinds of tropes (enemies to lovers, childhood friends, etc.), but I’ve yet to find one in TWST that solidly lands with me.

Certainly there are dynamics I enjoy—the Science Club boys, for example—but do I see them being romantically engaged with one another? Eeeeeh, debatable. I could really go either way.

It’s actually easy to (temporarily) influence my takes on certain ships 😂 Sometimes I’ll listen to my friends talk ad nauseam about a ship they’re super into and their excitement is so infectious that it rubs off on me. I’ll go, “Wow, that really is a cute interaction! I can see why you ship them.” This had happened before with Malleus x Cater a few years back, though now I’ve returned to a neutral state on it since the shipper friend hasn’t been as active talking about the two. I appreciate my friends for popping off because even if I don’t have the same passion as they do for the ship, it helps me see the characters and their interactions under a new lens or from a different angle. (I actually wrote a fic where Cater takes Malleus to a maid cafe, inspired by my friend’s speeches about the duo. It’s meant to be platonic, but I think it could also be read as romantic if you choose to view it that way.)

I get easily influenced by fan art too, even if I don’t know the creator on a personal level. A few weeks back, I saw this Jade x Jamil post and it was so wholesome and tooth rottingly sweet (even though it was a ship I did not gave the time of day to before) 😭 And then I started to think about their similarities (both vice dorm leaders, both passive aggressive, both manipulators, etc.) and gradually convinced myself “Hey, it could work!” Now that I’ve had some time to be weaned off of the fan art though, I’m back to that baseline feeling of neutrality. It’s the exposure therapy wearing off/j

On the topic of Yuu (they’re technically a part of the TWST cast), I’m particularly lukewarm about any ships involving them—and Yuu ships are the only exception to my “I’m easily influenced to change my mind” rule; I’m always neutral about Yuu ships. They’re a blank slate, so the dynamics they have with other characters changes drastically depending on what “kind” of Yuu they are. I don’t have a Yuusona of my own, nor do I project onto Yuu, so I find little value in their character (or lack thereof). This extends to ships too; because I don’t see (my) Yuu as a “real” character, I also don’t see the potential in shipping them with those in the cast. I’ll support everyone’s right to their own Yuu and related ships, but I don’t necessarily get gung-ho about them unless I know the creators well. This is because the familiarity I have with them then extends to their Yuus; I can see bits of them and their own personalities and experiences in their Yuus, and that makes me feel like I have a more meaningful bond with whatever their interpretation (and romantic involvement!) is.

Of course, there are also some ships that I don’t like or that personally make me uncomfortable (for example, incest ships) 💦 I don’t want to like… yuck your yums, so I won’t go into explicit detail about which other ships I’m not a fan of or would prefer as platonic. Regardless of how I may feel about those, I don’t want to give the impression that I’m going to judge you for what you do or don’t ship. You do you—just be sure to respect boundaries and don’t push what you ship onto others, especially if they have indicated they’re not into the same things you are.

Just to make things clear, please do NOT send me asks like “Here is my ship and here is why you should consider it!” and “How do you feel about [Character A] x [Character B]?” or any variant (which includes polycules, love triangles, etc.). I will also not be responding to asks pressing me for which ships I dislike. I won’t be providing a tier list either since there are way too many possible combinations to account for. Shipping talk with strangers/the public makes me anxious and I’d rather not have that level of stress on a consistent basis.

Thank you for understanding ^^

[theanonymousfoxsimp]

First encounter,certian wouldn't be the last.

Sebastian x gn! Reader.

Blood,gore,reader dies but somehow lives

(FYI this is the beginning of my "wild pressure au" ,in this au literally every variant of angler has a sebastian like form. With all credits to this wonderful artist on Twitter that I linked,go check her out. My oc is in here too ,needed to write more of her. No it is not immediate sebastian x reader content I want to slowly get to that

https://x.com/pepurroni?t=MA8a1GDibBFtFKqe2A-n8Q&s=09

Treaking through the bleak halls and the winding corridors, the sounds of cameras whirring up then shutting down as a certain A.I. would watch you. It all seemed a bit too much to take in. The other 'expendables,' as they called it, had already been picked off one by one. The numerous creatures that roamed the halls were deadly enough on their own. Your best friend who had apparently been captured by urbanshade many years ago was the first to go, unfortunately. The close call with a certian pink screaming creature left your ears ringing as she whizzed by. The sickening crunch as your friends body fell down to the ground,her eyes and face scrunched up as if she were saying something that was caught up in her death. It was quite ironic,she had been drilling It into your head that focus is needed to survive here yet her own distraction seemed to be her end. The laughter that echoed from the pink beast was sickening as you could hear the crunch,the wet gurgle of blood as she feasted on whatever remnants she had of your best friend.

The next encounter had been a bit further down. You and the remaining six were looting in an underwater section when the angler came through. The roars of triump heard from him when the angler had successfully grasped one of the heftier men, then dragged him further into the open abyss. None of you had heard the signs,the lights didn't flicker either because of the broken wiring and the giant hole in the wall next to you. The water was left with red clouds of blood, but all you could do was move on as the others pushed further and further. The 'leader', as she called it, donned a strange red clown swim suit that squeaked every time she stepped. Her head had donned a pair of horns,similar to Jacob's ram, her face covered by a mask that funnily enough,also said the word 'face' on it. She barely spoke aside from yelling at you in particular whenever angler would come through. She even made sure there was a locker open,her own life spared by the weird spots she finds herself hiding in,crouching against the table seemed to shield her from the squinty eyed angler.

"Look -" the 'leader' spoke, her tone monotone as she stepped towards you. The three others going to search for the keycard for the next room as the woman dragged you closer into the safe room.

"We are coming up to sebastian,do NOT under any circumstances, flash him,okay? You will die-" she spoke,your voice butting in.

"Flash him as in...?" You asked.

The woman paused,her body going stock still as she began to process what you just asked. The sudden appearance of her belt flicking to life before slapping you across the face-though the belt wasn't actually one, but a blue arrow tipped tail that whipped behind her. The stinging sensation that came with it was barely there,she didn't hit to hurt but just to knock some sense into you.

"DO NOT-oh my god, the fact I even have to do this is so disappointing." She spoke for a second, pulling off a particular device from her belt. At first glance, it looked like a weird scanning gun until she pointed the nose right at another unexepnding crew member. She whistled at him,making sure she was being looked at before she pulled the trigger. A sudden bright flash lighting up the room before going dark,the pained moans heard from the expendable as the sudden blindness overtook him. You looked over at her, giving her a look before she crossed her arms,simply huffing as she grabbed the keycard from his hand to open the door. You wondered if it was really necessary to do that but pushed on.

Honestly, there wasn't much you could do as you stepped over the man. He was extremely bulky and wouldn't be easy to carry, then survive any angler encounters. The door opens with a rhythmic beeping as the sound of the A.I's voice is heard. Grumbling about how they were no fun before disappearing back into his database. Your mind raced with questions,much more going unanswered than answered, but hopefully, this 'sebastian' fellow would have some answers.

Door after door,it was a closer encounter every single time. The man that had been flashed-he died a few rooms before this one. The screams of an angler she called blitz had come through before he could react,slicing his head clean off before pulling him back to feast. The leader had been the quickest to react,pulling you and your remaining companion into a dark hiding spot a minute before blitz came through. The other expendable seemed a bit agitated,determined to push on until blitz tore through a second time, yanking her from the woman's grasp. The screams that were heard,growing more and more muffled as blitz traveled away.

It just left you two,the woman barely speaking as she pulled you further into other rooms. A pair of mimic doors were there, you weren't wise enough to know that you needed to listen carefully before opening it as you neared the false door. The gargled roar was all you heard before a pair a claws ripped through your side,three large gashes formed as blood began to pool on the ground. The A.I's mocking voice buzzed to life,laughing at how you had failed to pick the right door.

"God damnit-" was heard from the woman, she peered up-seeing the number fifty on the doors you both were at. She was a bit smaller ,her arms heaving your bleeding body onto her back like a piggyback ride. The next two doors went by quiet until a vent popped open in the third, a male voice urging you both to come in as she neared the vent. There wasn't an easy way to carry you in,so you were forced to crawl through the vent, pain stinging your sides as blood dripped onto the metal.

"Ah! Welcome!" The male voice-now louder had spoken.

The room was large, a radio beeping with what sounded like Morse code. The keycard you both needed sat on the table next to it-and the most appalling of it all was the giant creature that rested casually next to you both. His hands clasped together while a third would wave around or fiddled with the hem of his shirt. The woman-now visibly more relaxed,had taken a seat in front of the boxes next to the vent opening. She wasn't close to the creature,giving him his personal space.

"Let me make this quick. My name is sebastian, and I'm one of your only friends here at urbanshade. The men up above told you to bring back as much research, yes? Well..if you need any supplies,I'd be willing to part with it if you were willing to give me some of that precious research you have" he smiled,a large toothy grin that morphed into a small smile.

"I have plenty." The sight of everything was too appealing not to buy, the defeated sounds coming from the woman as her research was also thrown into the bunch, but she didn't protest. The medkit did wonders to help your wounds as various bandages and numbing medicines were in it, the bleeding soon halting itself. The fishy man more than happy to part ways with all of his wares as he eagerly grabbed your bag. Almost too rough as he began to count it, watching you carefully.

"Sebastian, they won't bite," the woman laughed,standing up to hand a bright purple flash drive to him. Sebastian, in return, produced a purple bag from somewhere. The term 'taki's' on the bag, the woman yelling out something before she retreated to a further corner,turning away from the both of you to move her mask,consuming the stick chips with such a speed it should alarm you. Sebastian only recoiled,grunting with disgust since he would have to clean up the mess she wasn't making.

"You still have some leftover research expendable," the fishy man said. The angler bulb on his head flickered into life before dimming,his-ear fins? Whatever they were ,wiggled while he spoke. It was adorable, the little nervous ticks you saw as he would watch,waiting for your answer. It took you a second to say anything,formulating a response. The woman,happily finishing her bag of takis before she beconed you to follow her out,blue keycard in her hand. Sebastian had blocked the vent when she left,his tail in the way as he silently observed you for the moment. His body moved until his face was inches above yours, his blue eyes almost glowing as the pools of blue stared. His hands came up to grasp at your body,curiosity getting the best to him as he began to flip you every which way. A folder and pen in his free hands,writing down the notes he took of you.

"See you again soon," he said,almost a bit too eager before he dropped you,climbing up to dissappear into the ceiling. His tail uncovered the vent so you could escape,making it further to where the woman was before a buzzing sound was heard,red hot static was all you could feel. The woman seemed to be on edge now,practically hugging the lockers as she passed them. The lights flickered so fast before turning red, static heard becoming louder and louder until the woman dipped into a locker. Leaving you behind to the wonders of the man's voice nearing,the southern drawl yelling for you to 'run!'. The woman took too long to get to a locker,abandoning her own for your safety before the creature yanked her up into the air with a thick fist. His left hand held an axe,he was taking far too long with this-your heartbeat and the non-existent air forcing you out of the locker.

Red static filled your vision, crimson smoke coming from the man's mouth as he spoke. The woman had played dead,her body going limp as the southern creature stayed put. Shaking her body like a limp ragdoll before she was dropped to the ground, the creature solely focused on you now as the axe that was on his belt suddenly went to his hand.

"Ashamed really,had more hopes for yer buddy here,next time think fast!" The axe was thrown,closing the distance between you both,embedding itself into your chest. It's like you couldn't feel it,arms splayed out,mouth agape as if you were going to ask him something. Blood and the taste of metal filled your mouth,pouring out of your nose and any other opening as your weakened body fell to the ground. Creature seemed pleased with himself, slipping over to grasp your ankle and began to drag your dying corpse along the floor. A trail of blood was all you could see,your hands grasped weakly at whatever you passed. Soon your vision went dark as the sickening sadistic laughter echoed through the room.

Oddly enough,after some time,you began to awaken. The creature-better known as a_60 by most had dragged you back towards where sebastian was. The two of them were in the middle of exchanging your items when your eyes began to open. The form of the masked woman being seen as she passed your body,taking a seat next to both of the creatures. Kicking her feat out, the mask had been moved to reveal just her mouth as she feasted on what looked to be your hand. Nothing could prepare you for the betrayal you felt as the woman slowly turned to you,sadistic smile. She went to grasp a knife before sebastian yanked it away,wagging his fingers as if disciplining a child while a_60 neared your nearly lifeless corpse. Axe in hand,nobody spoke as he went to finish the job, darkness finally taking you in as the cold embrace of death-oh my god.

The light of sebastians bulb flickered to life,your eyes adjusting to the sudden light as he slammed down two files in front of you on a table. One labeled "multi-monster," the other labeled "the traitor,". He opened both for you, a pitied look on his face as he stared down at you.

"Those two are a tricky pair, I'm surprised she didn't kill you or throw you to the anglers before coming to me, but I did get plenty of research. Until nest time little expendable, " he laughed,shoving you back into a hole in the floor,dropping you right in front of the submarine that would take you back. Two others had been waiting,giving you a knowing look as you entered the submarine. The machine whirring to life when a button was pressed by one of the men,the door closed before the group began to ascend up to the surface.

"So...traitor get you?" The woman next to you asked, "I heard a_60 come through too. That was not supposed to happen on your first go. He rarley ever shows up as is,the traitor was a rare sight to see, too. This is why you ALWAYS count your group members before leaving. If you have an extra, you need to filter out the foe,never take the chance," the lady spoke. Her animal ear flicked when she spoke again, " If they look different, then don't trust them-well,maybe try to learn their names,with how everyone looks-its difficult to filter them out but you need to pay attention regardless. Everything wants to eat you down here" she spoke.

The group fell silent,the intercom blaring to life as a voice began to debrief you three. The voice also mentioned how failure will not be taken lightly ,the punishments that awaited you almost made you wish you were back down with those foul creatures.

[spiderism]

Miguel’s conducting a census on the spider-verse when he lands himself on 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇-𝟐𝟏𝟑𝟕 – has no prior information since this is his initial visit, but on first glance recognizes that this is Nueva York; that usually means that the local superhero is Miguel O’Hara, or at least another variant of him. Only he finds out that here, it’s actually someone named Web-Shot, a souped-up version of his own late wife.

"Cariño." It was easier to say before – when everything was right, when his entire world hadn't collapsed in on itself. Now, the word feels strange. His brain reacts as if no time's passed at all; it takes effort for his mouth to form around each of the vowels and the consonants, though – like a rusted cog forced into service after being made stiff from years of disuse. 

And while you may walk and talk like her, you’re not. He tells himself not to be fooled by the way your face lights up when you see him, by the way your laughter fills the space between the two of you, and by the way you still tell jokes at his expense. 

But then you take the few steps necessary to close the distance to get to him, wrap your arms around his frame like he’s just come home after a long day of being out. It’s all too familiar – your body folding into his, how well the pieces fit together, the softness that he remembers so well; it’s every single inch of his wife that had been catalogued and filed away in the back of his mind for safekeeping – dust-ridden archives that he’d never thought he’d dig up again. You’re a memory in the flesh. 

“Web-Shot, because—”

“You shoot webs. That’s cute,” he says in a dry tone. 

“Alright, then. Let’s hear yours. You got something better?”

“Spider-man. It’s simple. Clean. Rolls off the tongue.”

“Wow, original. Was ‘Daddy Long Legs’ already taken?”

“Oh, you’ve got jokes. I see your sense of humor is consistent.”

“It’s why you fell for me, isn’t it?”

“Among other things,” he murmurs. “Pain in my ass—”

He asks where your Miguel is, needs to know if the two of you are together, but finds out that he died three months ago – fell from a clocktower during a bad fight he wasn’t supposed to be at, snapped his neck clean in half from the tension when you tried to catch him with your webbing and he ricocheted back up from the concrete like a damn bungee cord. The ring was in his pocket; he was supposed to propose that night before everything went to shit. So your time ended with him fast, early. Before you even really got to start your lives together. 

And this other Miguel, the one who shows up in your universe alive (sure) and well (debatable), gives you some insight to his world. His wife was a romantic – an idealist, a dreamer. He’s always been pragmatic – a man of science, an engineer, doing everything within his realm of possibility to make her visions come true. It’s been a long time since he talked about his history and his family: how he proposed, where they had the wedding, his daughter – the way everything was good and perfect until it wasn’t. 

After spending the night with you on the Empire State Building, he realizes how much you’re like his wife. It hits him hard, brings up too many emotions to the surface that he’d been tamping down all these years.

Nothing about any of this is fair. And it’s sad, heartbreaking. Especially—

“I didn’t get to grow old with you.”

“We could’ve had a lifetime together and it still wouldn’t have been enough. You get that, right?”

You convince him to stay. Try to, at least. He can be your Miguel, and it would all be so easy. He can take his retired wedding ring off the chain around his neck and slip it on where it belongs. 

But it’s not possible. He tells you that much – what can happen, the repercussions that ripple out and affect the multiverse web. Because he’s already attempted that – wouldn’t have given up without trying to get you back.

A part of him wants you to say it one last time. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Instead, he gets:

“Every version of me loves every version of you. And even though I haven’t gotten to see it for myself, I know that there’s no universe where that isn’t true.”

Before he leaves, you ask if he thinks there’s any chance the two of you are allowed to be happy, allowed to live normal lives in all of the places he’s seen. 

He tells you that he has: breakfast on the balcony, slow Sunday mornings, and weekend fútbol tourneys with your daughter. This story ends on a good note, but he doesn’t mention that it only exists inside his head.

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia (Part Six)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

You're a new recruit to the spider society, and you've just been sent on your first mission on one condition: Do not contact Miguel's variant in this universe. When your mission goes wrong you break that rule very quickly, desperate for help, only to find that Miguel's variant here is not what you expected. He's stoic but kind, awkward but sincere, and he's also an enormous human-spider hybrid: a drider, both human and arachnid. You decide to continue seeing Miguel in secret, with the rest of the society unaware. You really want to stay friends after all. That is, until Miguel suddenly goes into a rut. Now you're his mate, trapped in a dizzying heat that only he can fix, trying to hide your relationship from your suspicious superiors. What could go wrong? Word count: 3470 Notes: I miss Mig but more Miguel content in this one, he's having his hellfire moment lmao

The first place you took a portal to was your home, as your main priority right now was cleanliness and clothes.

The moment you stumbled in you threw the sheet down and rushed to your shower. The water was weak and barely lukewarm, but it did the job. You scrubbed yourself with soap at least three times over, removing everything that you could until your skin was squeaky clean.

Every time you brushed your thighs you whimpered. You were still hot, still barely holding it together, and every light brush of your fingers against your belly or crotch made you tremble. It reminded you of him, of his tongue and hands and breath. Part of you thought about staying there and relieving yourself but you knew you didn’t have time.

You washed away as much as you could, all while whispering to yourself that you were okay.

Once clean you wrapped yourself in a soft towel and stumbled into your bedroom. You clumsily pulled on your spider suit and started half-heartedly packing a bag with all your usual essentials.

For now you’d just get enough to last the week at Mig’s place, and then later you could do a second trip for more.

Halfway through stuffing your toothbrush into the bag, you paused.

Wait, so, were you going back to Mig?

The flicker of an intrusive thought crept into the forefront of your mind: you didn’t have to go back. When you were burning up with heat it didn’t feel like there was any option other than indulging in him, in letting him have you, but now you were here. You were out.

You shook your head, physically rejecting the thought just as quickly as it came up. No, no, you wanted to go back. You were just afraid of the HQ and it was making you panic. It wasn't wrong to be worried about getting caught, but you wouldn’t hurt Mig over your own paranoia. You couldn't. You didn’t want to lose him. You didn’t want to leave him.  

You finished packing everything else in silence, lulled by the ambient sounds of the city outside.

As you quietly folded clothes your mind wandered back to Mig again. You did regret how, in the moment, you’d forgotten to really explain the main reason you'd actually wanted to leave.

Getting these extra suppies was nice, but really you just needed to get to the medical bay ASAP. You needed to get something to combat the constant barrage of his seed you were taking.

Liking Mig was easy, but accepting his fantasy of actually breeding you was something else entirely. Even the tiniest slither of doubt was a default 'no' to letting it happen for real.

So, here was the plan. You would return to the HQ and get what you needed, fill in Jess on why you’d been gone and would continue to be gone, and then you would return to Mig. Hopefully the heat would let you last that long.

God, you were dreading it though. Jess was going to be furious and you’d need an alibi for your absence thus far, as you couldn’t admit to your affair.

And the medical bay? That was going to be a nightmare. The Spider-Society had a no questions asked policy for the most part, but it was still mortifying. You knew what you’d done, and while it thrilled you to no end you knew no one else would see it that way.

The medical bay wasn’t what scared you the most though, if you were honest, nor was it even Jess’s wrath.

You were terrified of bumping into him, the other Miguel, your boss. The one whose orders you had directly and repeatedly violated, who Mig had warned you had the same urges as him.

What happens if Mig was right? Would he try to talk to you, try to dissuade you, or god forbid outright forbid you from returning? Or, would he try to entice you, to have him instead of Mig?

It took you a while to pluck up your courage and leave, but you knew you were on a strict time limit.

You slung your packed bags over your shoulder and set a portal course for the society HQ.

…

The moment you portalled in you could feel your senses tingling. You tried to keep your head down as you sped through the lobby.

Most of the groups you walked past paid you little attention, but as you got deeper into the lobby your hair stood on end.

You felt it. Someone was watching you.

Someone just out of sight, just out of range, gawking in a way that made your hair stand on end.

For someone so used to being a dime a dozen, a grain of sand on a beach, it was unnerving to suddenly feel like you were being watched from all angles. You felt your heart sink. Could they tell? Did someone know?

You became painfully aware of your body in that moment. The slight limp in your gait from being stretched and bent and ploughed, the thick seal permanently covering your insides, and the thick, heavy presence of Mig’s last load still inside you.

You could feel it when you walked. You tried your absolute best to not show how flustered you were, how hot you were. You hurried as fast as you could to the HQ medical bay.

Your luck took a slight turn as you entered the ward, as it seemed today very few people required their services. The inner reception was almost entirely empty. It was sterile and white, with two slightly wilting plants paced on tables in each corner to give it some kind of life.

You crept across the floor, hoping to act low key, but your footsteps echoed as you approached. Halfway to the desk the girl behind it was already looking you up and down.

You sidled up and mumbled your request. ‘Ah, hi- hi, sorry, um- I need to put in a request form for today, ideally, ASAP if possible.’

The girl nodded and turned to her floating holographic screen, quickly swiping a few bits aside.

‘Of course. What for?’

‘Ah- emergency, contraception, and—’ You paused, momentarily, before blurting the next part. ‘And um- long term, as well. Together.’

You saw the way her eyes darted back to you. She was doing her best to be professional, but god knows this society was nosey.

‘Um- sure, just, how long term? What timeframe?’

‘Uh… how, long can I, get?’

Her brows went even higher. ‘Do you need immediate acting?’

‘Y-Yess.’

She turned to her screen and typed in a few things. ‘Okay. Um- we have patches that should protect right away, they last a month each, I can do 3 months with a check after that.’

‘Sure! Yeah. Sure, ah- thank you.’

She gave a curt nod and pulled up a few sheets of virtual paper. ‘No problem. Sign these.’

You hurried to do so. As you scratched out your signature the girl pushed back her chair, slowly rising to her feet. She looked stiff, like she’d been sat there a while.

‘If you get those signed now we’ll get your check over and done with quickly.’

Immediately your body went rigid. The girl began walking towards a door towards the left but stopped when she realized that you hadn’t followed, her hand left posed on the half-open door as she turned back around. You stared at each other from across the empty room.

‘Is- that okay?’ she asked, seemingly befuddled.

‘Ah- why, aha- I didn’t know, you needed checks for that. When uh- when did that happen?’ you stammered, forcing a smile so you didn’t look suspicious. She looked very unamused.

‘It’s, always been protocol’ she said slowly. ‘We need to make sure it’s safe for you to be taking it. We just have Lyla do a full body scan at once, it’s super quick and very accurate.’

Very accurate. Full body. Those words rang in your head like bells.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You didn’t have any other choice, did you? You either didn’t get the meds or you got scanned.

As sweat beaded on your forehead, you decided to just wing it. You nodded to the girl and followed her round the back.

You were handed off to a different nurse in a spider suit who took you into a little back room, one with plenty of privacy. She drew a curtain over the closed door and gestured for you to stand on a thin, raised circular podium in its centre, all while making light small talk.

Now drenched in sweat you cautiously stepped onto the circle.

‘Okay, now, stay still for me please.’ Her voice was so cheery compared to your awkward demeanour. It put you quite on edge. You stayed stock still as she ordered Lyla to complete the scan.

‘Alright, alright, let’s get a look at cha’ Lyla chirped. You noticed her hologram floating next to the nurse’s head, her glasses lowered to catch your eye. She looked curious.

‘Hey, it’s you. Little sneak. Haven’t seen you in a while’ she said. You forced a smile.

‘Yeah, I’ve- been, busy. Can we- do the thing, please?’

‘Relax, relax. I thought you’d like to catch me up. But, whatever. I’m sure you have better places to be’ Lyla drawled. Despite her annoyance at your tone she did her due diligence by completing your scan, which consisted of a thin orange light slowly sweeping your body from head to foot.

You’d hoped for a little extra time to plan but your scan was over and copied in seconds. You could see it materializing on the nurse’s tablet, just barely visible in the corner of your eye. You willed yourself to look normal.

‘Okay! Looking good. Blood fine, organs fine, you—’

The nurse gave a painfully obvious squeak as she scrolled down your results. You were straining your neck to not look at her.

It was certainly something to behold, and not what the nurse had expected to see so early on a Wednesday morning. The bruises on your hips right down to the muscle, the bite marks and nips, the lingering venom that’d seeped into your blood.

Those on their own would be noteworthy, but they became so much worse when taken alongside an alert labelling an inhuman amount of semen currently filling your insides, right next to the notice of a ‘foreign object’. Something that resembled spider silk, Lyla’s diagnosis read, coating the exterior.

The nurse and Lyla both glanced at you in unison. Your arms began to shake so you folded them tight.

‘Oh. Busy’ Lyla chortled.

‘Ah… Well, you- you’ll, definitely need that emergency pill’ the nurse said with an awkward laugh. ‘But, looks like it shouldn’t cause any issues. I’ll, um- I’ll make sure you can pick it up when you go back through.’

You let out a small sigh of relief. That meant you weren’t pregnant yet. You hopped down from the podium and hurriedly grabbed your bags, heading straight for the door.

‘Thank you so much for the help, I can—’

Right in the middle of your garbled thanks the nurse grabbed your arm. Her eyes on you were strangely intense.

‘I… Sorry, just- I wanted to check. Are you, okay?’ she whispered. Your eyes flitted between the door and her face.

‘Uh, yeah, yeah! Yeah. No I get it, um- I’m fine though, thank you for the concern but, I’m fine.’

The nurse nodded. She seemed both weirdly unnerved by and familiar with this scenario at the same time. ‘I- also, quickly, wanted to make a suggestion then’ she whispered.

Now you were really confused. You just shrugged. ‘Ah… O-Okay, sure, go- go ahead. What is it?’

‘I’m sorry, just- I’ve seen this before’ she whispered. ‘I can put in a prescription for anti-venom, for you, with the others, if you’d like? I’d highly recommend it as precaution.’

‘Anti-ve—I’m sorry, did you say you’ve seen this before?’ you stammered back.

The nurse let out a little huff, as did Lyla. They looked, annoyed? Or did they look sympathetic?

‘Unfortunately, yes. Now I know he’s not- technically anyone’s boss, but, even for this to happen once it seems- wrong. Not that I’m judging you of course! It’s not your fault, the whole- dynamic, but—well.’

‘Boss has needs’ Lyla chuckled.

Your eye twitched painfully. Oh, right, they were talking about Miguel. HQ Miguel. Your boss Miguel. They thought that you must have slept with him.

‘What I’m saying is, I saw a man who- worked here, a while back, with similar symptoms to you, asking for the same things. He’d been uh- consensually paralyzed, apparently, so I suggested he keep some around just in case. I’m just letting you know the same is available to you.’

‘This… I, feel like you shouldn't have told me that’ you murmured awkwardly. The nurse looked just as awkward, if not defensive.

‘Well, I just- I’m doing my duty, giving medical advice. That’s all.’

‘Ahuh… I’ll, pick some up. Thank you.’

With that you swiftly escaped out the backdoor, hurrying back to the reception. As promised the girl there handed over both your birth control and a third paper package, one labelled ‘anti-venom.’ Her eyes as you took it were so unbearably curious.

You were extremely grateful to be out of there as you hurried back into the main HQ.

What was that all about? So, had Mig been right then, about your boss? This universes Miguel was also having secret, lewd affairs in the same way he was? It certainly seemed to corroborate his claims. The nurse said it was similar symptoms, so did that mean he was also plugging his cum inside random people with webs? The thought made your face unusually hot.

As you made your way through the lobby you began to climb the beams back up to the top, hoping to catch Jess wandering around up there. You were grateful to be ignored, grateful to get this over with.

But then something grabbed you.

You jolted to a halt as thick, firm fingers gripped your left arm. Your heart skipped a beat.

It was at that moment, at the most inconvenient moment possible, that the growing ache in your loins began to spread. Your heart began to thud, your blood began to pump, your skin growing hot and sensitive beneath the thin fabric of your suit.

The heat was back. It was back, and it was only going to get worse.

NO, NO, NO.

You whimpered as your gut tightened and your insides pulsed, your blood pumping as it prepped your body for more penetration.

Not here, you pleaded. Not here.

The hand on your arm tightened its grip, pushing you back towards the nearest wall. In your brewing panic you turned.

Those cold red eyes stared right into your soul.

‘Where have you been?’

Miguel spoke with his usual disdainful exhaustion, but as he spoke to you it felt like something was off. Perhaps it was just your growing panic, but, did he sound angry? Did he sound, eager? It was hard to explain, but there was something strange and conflicted about the way he spoke.

‘I-I’ve, been, away’ you murmured awkwardly. You tugged, but Miguel didn’t let go. In fact, he pulled you closer.

‘We’ve been trying to contact you for days, you’ve been completely unreachable’ he whispered low, ensuring no other spiders could hear.

‘Yes, I’m- sorry, but I—’

Once again you tried to pull away, and once again he tugged you closer. You could feel the heat of his body as he hissed low enough that only you could hear.

‘It’s our job to make sure none of our members get lost in the multiverse, or get hurt, and it is our members job to not waste our god damn time. We had to search for you! Where, were you?!’

‘I-I— I don’t, I—’

Through the growing ache in your insides, you could barely hear him. The panic was merging with your insatiable, brewing horniness until you were utterly lost. You felt sweat beading on the back of your neck as the heat burned you from the inside. You felt faint. You felt sick.

‘Answer me’ Miguel snapped, his voice low and curt. You finally met his gaze.

For a moment, one intrusive thought filled your mind. What if your hormones drove you towards this other Miguel? It was just hormones after all, right? Your body would drag you to him whether your mind thought it was a good idea or not.

Your blood ran cold. You were horrified that, for a quick fix to the pain, you’d let another spider fuck you. That you’d debase yourself to letting that cold man fill you with his cock in some dirty closet, all to stop the ache.

No, you thought. Please no. You didn’t want that. You didn’t want to do that to Mig. You didn’t want it.

You froze up as Miguel took another step towards you. ‘I said, answer me’ he repeated.

His chest was brushing yours now, his breath close enough that you could feel it. Your whole body throbbed violently with heat.

But, it didn’t happen. You could feel the ache spreading but you didn’t feel a pull to Miguel as he stared you down. His disdainful gaze, his curious cold eyes, they didn’t draw you in. You knew if he approached you that you would turn him away.

All you wanted, all you craved, was Mig. You needed him back. You missed his blunt but kind expressions, his attentiveness and sweet gratitude. You needed his thick, veiny arms to hold you down, and his tongue on your neck and his fat cock to bring you to tears.

Just thinking about it made you involuntarily quiver. Miguel’s eyes widened. Did he know?

You didn’t wait to find out. You yanked your arm away.

‘I need to see—’

‘HEY! My god, there you are.’

Your unexpected saviour dropped in from a beam above, her hand gently clapping Miguel on the back. It was Jess.

‘Miguel, what’s gotten into you? I was in the middle of talking to you, you just bolted. What, is it an emergency?’

Even as she spoke his eyes never left yours. You could see that the reds of his irises were burning. They were burning with that same feral energy that Mig always showed.

‘Hey, Miguel, you okay? Are you—Oh. Hey! God damn, it’s really you.’

Midway through her rant to Miguel, Jess finally spotted you out of the corner of her eye. Immediately she switched tones.

‘Back from the dead, huh? What are you doing here, actually- wait, no, more importantly, where did you go?’ Jess asked as she pushed past Miguel. You dragged your eyes away from him as you tried to think of an excuse.

‘Yeah, sorry, I’m- so sorry, I swear I—’

‘Hey, hey, my god you’re still so jumpy. Come on, what happened? Where did you—’

‘I’m sick!’ you blurted.

Jess paused, hand halfway raised. ‘You’re- you’re, sick?’

‘Yes! I’m—’ You reached out and grabbed Jess’s hand, abruptly pressing it to your forehead. The beading heat and sweat made her jump and quickly yank back her hand, subtly shaking it as if to remove your touch.

‘Jesus- yeah, you are sick.’

‘Y-Yeah. Yeah. I am. I was hunkering down, in my universe, and I’ve mostly been sleeping so I didn’t see my watch ringing. That’s it. I came by just to stop at the medical bay to get- medication.’

You raised your hand and shook the bags in your hand, once, deliberately keeping your fingers over the label. Jess thankfully didn’t look too hard but Miguel’s eyes lingered.

‘Oh, damn. That bad huh?’ Jess gave a sympathetic tut.

‘Yeah. It’s- bad, and I don’t want to get anyone else sick! So, I should head back. I promise I will keep you updated from now, but- I need to go, right away. Now. Bye.’

You didn’t wait to hear what the two said. You waited long enough to hear the sympathy in Jess’s voice before bolting, leaving them behind.

You glanced back only once as you limped to the nearest corridor, and all you could see was Miguel staring at you with unblinking eyes.

His lip curled before he vanished behind a wall. In a blind hurry you rushed to the nearest closet and locked yourself in. You pulled up a portal and threw your bags in one by one.

You went home to him. You went home to Mig. link to part seven

[bruisedboys]

STAR TRIPPING, blurbs ─── send in a character + a prompt from the lists above and I’ll write you a blurb!

could do you do a fluff blurb with miguel o'hara for~

❛ was that your first kiss? ❜

❛ do you think i’m a good person? ❜

❛ what if i hurt you? ❜

ive never really requested anything and i don't if that's too many prompts, so very sorry, ignore this if it's too much !! <3

hi angel!! thank you so much for the ask. I just used one of these prompts, I hope you don’t mind! 🤍

SPOILERS FOR SPIDERMAN: ATSV BELOW THE CUT!

miguel o’hara x spider-person!reader, no pronouns used, fluff and a tiny bit of angst!

prompt — ❛ do you think i’m a good person? ❜

Miguel isn’t used to feeling judged. He doesn’t care what other people think, especially when most people who don’t like him are much younger and much more inexperienced, in his opinion (Read: Hobie Brown).

But with you around it’s different. He feels like he needs to be better. Kinder, maybe. He’s not exactly sure why. Or rather, he knows exactly why but doesn’t want to admit it.

You’re kind, you’re really kind, probably the sweetest most selfless spider-person he’s ever had to deal with. And he’s dealt with a lot. Miguel likes how kind you are. At first it sort of stopped him in his tracks, threw him for a loop. Now that he’s known you for a while he’s found himself acting differently, being more forgiving of mistakes, letting things go that he usually wouldn’t. He’d never admit it out loud, but he knows it’s because he likes you. And, more importantly, he wants you to like him.

Still, he messes up sometimes. A mission to catch a Vulture variant turns messy when the Spider-Woman from the dimension he’d landed in gets stuck in a problem she can’t get out of. Gwen Stacy — she’s young, and she’s on her own, and she’s lost. Miguel is hesitant to let her on. He’s more rude to her than he should be. Snarky, mean. But in the end he lets her come, because what kind of person would he be if he left her there alone?

When he gets back he doesn’t mean to seek you out but finds you anyway. You’re in his office, of all places. He stands in the doorway feeling awful, feeling like you’d hate him for how he treated Gwen today. After a while he clears his throat though he doesn’t have to, you probably already know he’s there, what with your spider-senses and all.

You turn from your seat and smile at him. “You’re back. How did it go?”

Miguel doesn’t smile though he’d like to if he could. You’re the only one who can ever get a smile out of him. “Good. Everything’s taken care of.”

“Heard you picked up a new recruit,” you say with a little lilt to your voice. You’re always excited for new recruits. Quite the opposite of Miguel, really.

Miguel nods. The topic of Gwen makes him feel nauseous. Why did he have to be such a jerk to her? “We did. Gwen Stacy, she’s in the med bay right now.”

Your brow furrows. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Just a little scratched up.”

You nod. “Well, you probably want your office back,” you say softly, gesturing to the desk you’ve been occupying in place of him. “I’ll go.”

You get up and walk past him and Miguel almost lets you go but doesn’t. He calls your name before you make it out the door.

“Y/N?”

His voice comes out more strained than he’d meant it to sound. You don’t say anything but when he turns you’re looking at him with a worry to your pretty features. Miguel figures he must look quite troubled because you actually take a step forwards and put your hand on his forearm, so gentle it’s barely there, but it’s there, and it’s feels like dead weight to Miguel.

“Yeah?”

Miguel bites the bullet and asks the question he’s been asking himself for a long time. “Do you think I’m a good person?”

You blink at him. You’re silent for a beat. Then, “What’s making you ask that?”

Your hand drifts up his forearm and comes to rest at his elbow, your grip tightening ever so slightly. Miguel’s eyelids flutter lazily at your touch.

“I’m short with people,” is all he can manage to say in way of an explanation.

“You’ve got a stressful job,” you say reasonably. “It’s only human.”

“I was short with Gwen,” Miguel explains, finding the longer you touch him, the more he unravels. He stares at a point over your shoulder, “She didn’t deserve it.”

“Oh,” is all you say.

Miguel thinks his heart might drop out of his chest. Maybe it will and then he’ll keel over and die and never have to worry about what you think of him again. Unlikely. He’s never been that lucky.

He doesn’t realise how heavy the silence feels until you break it.

“Miguel? Can you look at me?”

Miguel looks at you. You’re pretty as ever. He’s always thought you were pretty, but now it feels suffocating. Like, if he doesn’t tell you soon, he’ll die.

“You’re not a bad person,” you say. “You’re good. You are. Everyone gets a little impatient sometimes.”

���You don’t,” Miguel says, because you don’t. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you get angry or upset with someone.

“That is so not true,” you say, shaking your head. “Ask Peter B, the other day I blew up at him for leaving Mayday’s toys all over the place.”

Miguel fights a smile. He can’t imagine you ever ‘blowing up’. “This is different, Y/N. You know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean,” you say, your hand squeezing ever so slightly at his elbow. “And yeah, you have a short temper sometimes but that doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. What you’re doing here is good. You’re a good person, Miguel.”

You smile then, like you mean it, and Miguel knows you do. If he’d heard it from anyone else, he wouldn’t have believed them. But from you it feels real. He knows you wouldn’t lie to him, even if it was to make him feel better. You might be kind but you’re not dishonest. Yet another reason why Miguel likes you so much.

“Thank you,” he says. “You’re—“ He stops himself before he can say anything too serious, changes tactics though what he comes up with instead is still very much true. “I value your opinion more than you’d think. It’s important to me.” You’re important to me.

Miguel shifts his arm so he can take your hand in his. It’s bold. It’s unlike him. But it feels nice and your hand is soft in his and he hopes it will say what he can’t. He only holds your hand for a second before dropping it but it feels like an eternity.

“That’s okay,” you say sweetly. “Your opinion is important to me, too.”

Then, and Miguel is familiar with this by now, you get this look on your face like you’re going to make a joke, one that’s bad but will probably make him smile anyway. “If you still feel bad, you can always go and apologise to her,” you say, a cheek to your tone that Miguel adores more than he’d ever admit.

Miguel groans. You both know he’d never stoop that low. He smiles for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Would you do it for me?” He asks in a strained sort of voice, half joking and half serious.

You burst into giggles. Miguel feels his heart soar.

[hurtspideyparker]

What do you think about Marvel's move bringing back RDJ but now as Dr. Doom. I just wondered how this would affect Peter...

At first I was like OH MY GOD ROBERT DOWNEY JR. because I just adore! him! And of course I would love him back in Marvel, cuz I'm a sap and RDJ as Tony Stark revolutionized superhero cinema. Also "new mask same task" and striking the Tony Stark T pose? Legendary stuff.

Then I actually thought about the implications and the character, and I'm just not a fan. Bringing Downey back as anyone but Tony Stark is really weird, and doesn't make sense. Feels like an insane Tony Stark+Dr. Doom plot, which they made up just to get RDJ back cuz he's the money maker. Plus Dr. Doom deserves a new unique actor, especially a Romani one. I do love Dr. Doom as an MCU villain though, if he is cast properly. If they were gonna bring a Tony variant into the MCU make him a TONY variant, using Dr. Doom isn't it. Although under different circumstances I'd love to see more of RDJ as an antagonist, he's an incredible actor (his 1998 film US Marshalls started a fire in me for him to play more villains).

ANYWAYS - ignoring all the negative stuff, let's talk about Peter Parker!

I'd like to imagine a scene where Peter is fighting Doom - he's using his usual quips, being silly. He thinks it's just another day, another villain. Doom is incredibly strong and it's a tough fight, but Peter just manages the perfect hit to tear Doom's mask off.

Then he hesitates.

While scarred and cruel, the sight is still unmistakably familiar.

"Tony?"

Doom doesn't waver, he strikes Peter with deadly and immediate force in his moment of weakness.

Peter goes flying backwards, smashing through glass and brick.

He's hurt, badly, lying still on the floor beneath Doom. Bloody and torn Doom leaves him there, a pitiful and easily distracted kid. He doesn't know what he said, nor does he care. Von Doom just squashed a bug.

Left alone, Peter suffers from the ache in his body, the hit to his ego, and the biggest question - what did he see?

He questions whether he was drugged, or having a stress-induced hallucination. It doesn't make any sense for this to catch up to him in the middle of a battle. That's usually when he's most focused and level headed.

Sure, he used to see Mr. Stark. In billboard models with goatees, in the kind smile of a professor, in the corner of his eye when walking down the street. He never thought it was really him though, and it's been years since he's been struck so painfully with memories of his old mentor.

This, this is completely different. He stared right at Tony's face as clear as day.

Maybe Peter drags himself to the nearest hero. Still bloody and bruised, but he has to tell someone what he saw. Who is there? Who can he call? Hawkeye? Bruce Banner? Daredevil? They may not know Peter Parker, but he's still Spider-Man. He has a big name, and I'm curious who's taken notice.

Personally, I'd kill to finally get a Spider-Man and Fantastic Four team up in theatres. With the FF movie coming out and Doom being a big nemesis to the team I'm really hoping we get some Fantastic Four and Avengers interactions.

Anyways. Peter warns them, or does research on his own. He obsesses over this Doctor Doom.

Fast forward, maybe Doom and Peter work together against another evil, or Doom's own invention. Or maybe they're just near each other enough to get to know one another.

Doom and Stark do have some things in common, and I think that would strike a chord in Peter. Doom is an intellectual, a scientist, he's a self-absorbed perfectionist.

Doom commends Peter on his genius, his capabilities. Offers him a deal to join him and put his brain to good use. It would hit too close to home for Peter. A kid who wanted nothing more than to be like Tony Stark, to be strong and intelligent. To have his old mentor look at him and acknowledge his effort.

It messes with Peter's head and brings up his unresolved issues with Tony. It makes him sick.

Peter Parker got erased, and now it's like he's reliving his youth and trauma in some twisted and dark remake.

Maybe there's something bigger at play here. Maybe someone is haunting him, torturing him.

Laughing at him.