#because of your desperation of needing to be the hero

[supercap2319]

Spiderwebs & Red chaos

Peter was working on the Sandman cure, when he stops abruptly, eyes darting back and forth in nervous anticipation. Something—someone has triggered his spider-sense. He stood up, catching the attention of Otto Octavius, and Norman Osborn.

“Peter?” Otto asked.

“What’s wrong?” Norman asked.

Their voices were distant and disoriented as Peter walked towards Happy's kitchen/living room. “I don't know…” It was true. Peter didn't know exactly what he was sensing, all he knew was that it made his heart want to burst out of his chest, and made his breathing shallow.

“May? Y/N?” He calls out loud. Norman and Otto followed him into the living room kitchen area as Peter stands in the center of the villains. “What is it, Peter?” May asked, wondering why her nephew is so troubled. The young hero’s breath was hitched and shallow as he looked around the room, the tension in the air thick enough to cut through with a knife, getting to everyone.

“What's happening?” Flint Marko asked.

Peter looks at him, then at Otto and Norman, who moves around the room, and then at Max Dillon, who looks uneasy at the hero's eyes on him.”Why are you looking at me like that?” Peter searches, on alert. What is he sensing? Is one of

them about to betray him? Where is the threat? Was he losing his mind? All these questions buzzed inside his head like angry bees. He closed his eyes and focused his spider-sense. Reaching. Feeling. Until he…

THWIP!

Peter webs Norman's hand to the robot arm of DUM-E.

Norman smiles. “That’s some neat trick. That sense of yours.” His voice was low and ominous.

“Norman?” Otto asked.

“Norman’s on sabbatical, honey.” Norman said, a gleefully undertone in his smile.

“What the hell?” Max asked.

“Goblin…” Y/N whispered in realization. Peter and May share a look of concern.

“Surprise. No more darker half? Did you really think that I’d let that happen?” Aunt May slips quickly into the storage room, searching for the cures as Norman, aka, Goblin, continues his tirade. “That I’d let you take away my power just because you’re blind to what true power can bring you. Because you and Y/N squander the potential that you have.”

“You don't know us.” Peter said, staring Goblin down.

“Don’t I?” Goblin asked.

“No, you don't.” Y/N talked towards Peter's side, fingers twitching with power, but he wouldn't release it. Not just yet.

“Here's the real truth: the people of this city. There's one thing they love more than a hero... is to see a hero fail, fall, die trying. In spite of everything you've done for them, eventually they will hate you. Why bother?”

“Because it's right.” Peter said.

Meanwhile, May grabs the cures, one-by-one, and shoves them into her F.E.A.S.T. tote bag.“I saw how she trapped you two.” Goblin begins as May sneaks back into the kitchen from the storage room, clutching the bag of cures. She nods at Peter. She has them. “Fighting her holy moral mission. We don’t need you to save us... We don’t need to be “fixed!”

Sandman frowns as Goblin looks around the room of people he does, and doesn't know. “These are not curses.” Max looks down at his cure device. Beep! Another green light flashes on the device. Two more to go.

“Norman, no.” Otto protests.

“Quiet, lapdog!” Goblin snaps.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Peter said.

“I’ve watched you from deep behind Norman’s cowardly eyes. Struggling to have everything you want. While the world tries to make you choose. The Spider-Man and the brother of the Scarlet Witch, so desperate to have it all.” The device on Electro’s chest beeps once again. Only one more

light to go…

“Gods don’t have to choose.” Max looks at Norman, now really buying in… “We take.”

“You're no God, Goblin. You're sick.” Y/N said.

“Guess we'll find out…”

“May... RUN!” Peter said. May breaks for the door with the bag of cures. Electro takes the cure device off his chest, as Goblin tears free from the web holding him to DUM-E. Shooting electricity out, Electro reaches towards the storage room…

CRASH!

The Arc Reactor tears free from the Fabricator,

bursts through the kitchen wall, and flies into Electro’s hand as there is surgical electrical

contact happening. “Hey!” Y/N powered up his fist that glowed red with power, but Electro blasts him into the wall, crashing upon impact.

“Y/N!” Peter cried.

Goblin pounces on a distracted Peter, smashing him into the nearby stairs.Seeing this, Sandman disintegrates into a whirl of sand. Retreating. Down the hallway, May runs to the elevators, pressing the “down” button over and over again Electro surges with ARC Reactor power, supercharging his powers as he causes lights throughout the condo building to flicker on and off. May looks up, the hallway lights are flickering here too. As she pushes the elevator “down” button once more.

Doc Ock looks at Electro in horror. “Oh my God. What have you done?”

Electro scoffed. “I liked you better before.” He unleashes a Stark-grade cascade of electricity, blowing Otto back through the living room wall. Otto tears through glass and steel, plummeting to the ground below before finally coming to a

wrenching stop, his tentacle arms gripping the side of the building. Down in the plaza of the condo, J. Jonah directs his camera man upward.

“Up here, he’s up there!” The camera man points his camera towards the building just in time to capture Doc Ock climbing away, disappearing into the night. “It’s the guy from the bridge!”

In the stairwell, Aunt May heads for the emergency exit door, races downstairs.

Electro and the swirling cloud of sand that is Sandman approach the burst-open living room wall. Sandman propels himself forward, Electro following after he powers up with his new source of energy. The sand swirls around the police cars, rocking them back and forth as Max Dillon transforms into pure yellow lightning, hitching a ride on the tornado of sand. The shelter truck nearby rocks violently. The side of it being slashed, until the Lizard explodes out of the hole he cut open and runs off.

J. Jonah James looks at his camera guy. “...Did you see that?!” Police and bystanders scramble for cover as Electro and Sandman take to the wind and fly off.

Meanwhile, back in Happy’s apartment, Peter scrambled to help Y/N to his feet. Peter manages to get his boyfriend upward as they both turn to see Goblin staring at them, challenge in his eyes. “Y/N, find May. Protect her.” Peter said.

“No, not without you.” Y/N said. “We'll face him together.”

“No. Please, just do this for me. I need you to keep her safe. Promise?” Peter looks at him, vulnerability in his brown eyes. Y/N nods and begrudgingly heads for the door. “I promise.” He flies off, a red trail of energy behind him until he was gone.

“Perfect. Just you…and me…” Goblin cackled.

Peter charged.

[proshippers-against-censorship]

This is long and Idk how to put this, but antis seem to have this strange... obsession with fictional characters they can pretend are kids. They put this idea of innocence on a pedestal because they need to "white knight" them. But if they try that with kids and teens they'll be treated as weird and told to stay away from them or the kids/teens will act against their expectations, making them realize they're REAL and have their own personalities and wants that won't align with theirs and break the antis' delusions. But with characters they can make them helpless, force them to be helpless and more importantly, keep them that way, making them need antis to protect them. Antis can be their heroes and get praise and admiration from them. And they can force them to always be in danger, always need them. That's why they couldn't care less about people, even kids, but are so gung-ho about characters. And why they're only focused on sexual things. People are sadly used to violence these days, and the religious idea of "sex being a sin" is also commonplace imo, and these characters are used physical danger so they can save themselves. But sex is a "bad thing" and something they can pretend the characters aren't used to even if they're high schoolers, so antis can swoop in, saving them from a "traumatic experience" earning the characters' worship for however long they want. Being an anti is an ego thing, it's not about being a good person or about morals, it's purely and inherently a self-centered idea created solely to allow the person to feel special. Since most antis are teens, Idk if they're scared because they realized how uncaring the world can be and took the idea that you have to make your own meaning too far in the wrong direction, or, as the cynic in me believes, they grew up on social media which made them develop main character syndrome and have a severe lack of empathy for anyone but themselves. If all this makes sense. Idk, I'm just spit-balling because I don't understand how being an anti is the hot new trend among the youth even though proshipping is the standard and how things have always worked, and the world didn't end, murderers and pedos didn't increase in numbers, because again, the proshipping stance is how it's always been but antis are suddenly trying to create a problem where there's never been one and keep trying to force reality to conform to their fantasies. I just don't understand how people could look at the world and then genuinely believe the world works the opposite of how it actually does, like flat earthers. And Idk why so many kids would fall for this nonsense and why antis are so commonplace nowadays. Imo, antis just...really need therapy cause it feels like they have this debilitating NEED to be a modern fairy tale hero you know?

I sometimes wonder if being an anti is a final, desperate bid for control after a lot of them realize that life isn't exactly something that can be controlled to the extent they want it to be.

[husbandomail]

It's been getting super cold and windy here lately. Can I request cuddling headcanons for Mirio and Deku please?

Izuku:

While he tries to be polite about it, Izuku is physically affectionate to the core. Even before the two of you were dating, he’d find himself brushing his fingers against yours for reassurance, hesitant to take it too far but desperate to be near you. So now that he’s finally allowed to hold you, well— he can’t keep his hands off.

“It’s cold,” Izuku mumbled, and at first he wasn’t sure you heard him; his eyes were always trained on you, so of course he noticed the complete lack of reaction to his faux smalltalk. Your eyes didn’t stray from your laptop. He tried again. “You’d think they could turn up the heat in the dorms, right?” A nervous laugh.

He wasn’t sure why he’d gotten nervous— the two of you were close enough that he was hanging out in your dorm room anyways. Izuku was perched next to you on the couch as you finalized an essay; well, if ‘next to you’ meant ‘on the other end of the couch.’ It just happened to be a small couch. He could hear the quiet music pumping through your headphones that rested around your neck, long abandoned so you could seamlessly ask for his advice; he could feel your warmth, just a few inches away. And you’re busy.

“—hey, gimme your opinion on this one.” Izuku jolted when you shifted to lean against him; you just casually nestled right into his arm. You tilted your laptop so he could skim the screen, but Izuku, obviously, wasn’t thinking about your essay— his mind kicked into overdrive, assessing every tiny detail of the situation. Okay, okay, no need to overthink— just trust himself. Before he could convince himself otherwise, Izuku pulled the oldest trick in the book, faking a yawn to stretch his arm over your shoulder. Cringe as hell, but typical, and at least he’s cute about it.

Mirio:

You may have noticed, but Mirio is big. He’s also boisterous and doesn’t always think about the small things— from the moment you two became friends, he was slipping his hand into yours to tug you along somewhere, or tossing his arm over your shoulder to laugh loudly together. Because of that, the lines between you blur incredibly easily; dating? Just friends? Who cares, you fit well together.

“Are you ready?” Mirio’s voice boomed loudly from the other room. You knew he was always eager; no matter how much time the two of you spent together, it was never enough for him. A shame he couldn’t just carry you around in his pocket all day. “The commercials are almost over!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” As soon as the microwave beeped, you snatched the bag of popcorn by the corner; of course, it was scalding, so you let out a string of hisses as you darted back to the living room. Your boyfriend is right where you’d left him— his broad form stretched out across the entire couch, his feet hanging off the edge, all bundled up in every throw blanket you owned.

Mirio’s hero reflexes were never dormant; you tossed him the bag of popcorn and he caught it without looking, only to immediately drop it onto his lap. “That’s hot!” Despite his complaint, he tore the bag open as you climbed into his lap, holding it where you could both graze. Just in time, too— your movie flickered back on as you took your seat. One of Mirio’s arms snaked around your waist to keep you close, his chin nestled on your shoulder. He’s warm— he’s always warm, and the blankets are soft, and you’ve seen this show before. No matter how many times the two of you curled up together, you could never get enough.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What are your opinions on the S3 finale (Heart Hunter & Miracle Queen).

This is a tricky question because season four went on to completely drop the ball on everything the season three finale setup. That makes it hard to look at the season three ending positively even though it seemed to be a great setup for shaking things up. There are a ton of fantastic fanfics that take the events of the season three final and use them to tell a great story.

Canon, on the other hand, just wastes our time. The season three finale leads into a season of nonsense conflict that ends in a final that is a total rehash of everything the season three final did: Marinette makes a mistake and Gabriel gets all the miraculous. Only, this time, he gets to keep them because there's no deus ex machina to magically steal them back. You can skip from season three to season five and all you'll miss is Su Han's intro and Alya knowing Marinette's identity. Heck, season five even repeats season four's romance padding! They just do it with Marichat instead of Lukanette and Adrigami. It's extremely paint-by-numbers.

If we ignore all of that and pretend that season three just finished, then I'd probably give the final four out of five stars? It's got some decent elements!

Gabriel's plan to manipulate Chloe is a genuinely good one even though I'm not sure why he needed Chloe specifically. Anyone could have wielded the bee and there's no reason he needed the bee to grant an akumatized person Miracle Queen's powers. Still, they did a good job creating a situation where Chloe would be scared and mad enough to side with the bad guy. It's genuinely solid writing that felt properly setup, which is not something I can say for any other final.

Outing all of the temp heroes was a strong, bold move! It should have led to interesting things. Some examples: Gabriel tracking down Ladybug, Ladybug having to pick a new set of temp heroes, and/or Marinette having to distance herself from her civilian friends who were the former temp heroes. Any and all of these would have been a blast! Instead, the reveals are treated as a total nothing burger. Alya even gets a full-time miraculous and access to Ladybug's identity, all of which should be a hard no once her identity is out there.

Removing Fu was another strong move, though somewhat weakened by the fact that Fu never felt all that important to the story. If we pretend that he was written like a real mentor, then this is another exciting status quo change. Who will Ladybug turn to now that her mentor is gone and Alya's hero ties have been outed? It's not surprising that many viewers expected season four to be the season of Ladynoir. And it was! Just not the flavor anyone wanted...

The Kagami conflict was a decent one. I like the idea of Marinette making the wrong choice for a temp hero to call in based on her feelings for Adrien. It's a much better version of this issue than the rehash we get in the season four final where the only reason Marinette's choice is wrong is because of an evil twin. However, it's once again weakened up the setup.

With both Kagami and Chloe having previously been outed, it's hard to view either choice as the right one. For this to really work, Chloe should not have been publicly outed. Gabriel should have learned her identity by accident and she should have been benched because she's a mean girl who has done nothing to earn a miraculous. The story didn't need a stronger justification for Ladybug to never call on Queen Bee again.

In fact, this episode actually really needed better justification for why it was wrong to pick Kagami over Chloe. Chloe was officially benched and there wasn't anything special about her that made her desperately needed for this fight. The only reason people feel like Chloe should have been picked in the season three finale is because it was her parents who were in danger, but in-universe, there's no rule that says temp heroes need to be the ones to help when their families are in danger. That's actually a pretty crappy rule. Pick whoever is best for the job. Similarly, the only reason it was a bad call was because of things Marinette didn't know (which would also be repeated in season four's final).

Still, the episode plays these events in an engaging way where Marinette does initially want to go for Chloe and the show did establish the "you get to help when you're family is on danger" rule, so I'm willing to give these flaws a pass in a way I'm not willing to forgive the flaws in the season four rehash. I can actually criticize Marinette's actions in season three. I'm season four she does nothing wrong.

One thing I will straight up criticize is having the episode end with Adrigami and Lukanette being together. That was an extremely cheap cliffhanger that got immediately undone in season four. It was also totally unnecessary. The temp heroes identities being outed, Fu losing his memories, and Chloe's betrayal are much stronger elements to focus on. You don't need the teen romance! Then again, none of the serious elements went on to meaningful impact the story, so maybe that's why season three ends on that weird note where it doesn't feel as serious as it should?

As you can see, my praise for this episode is pretty tepid. In a better show, it would be a fantastic season finale. In Miraculous? It fails to hit properly because of poor setup and then fumbles the landing for the things it sets up, making it hard to give it any real praise. At the time, I was genuinely curious where it would go, but I lost interest pretty quickly. It was clear that they had no plans to give proper weight to the events of the season three finale just like we didn't get proper weight for the season four finale and will probably not get proper weight for the season five finale.

[ehlnofay]

Pax should have said no.

Damn it all, they should have said no. Should have said go to hell and fucked off back – stop contacting me, sort out your own shit – but they didn’t, fuck knows why, and now they’re stuck here.

(They know why. They know exactly why; absolutely anything would be better than fucking off back to Cyrodiil. What’s for them there?)

But there’s nothing worth staying for here either, and now she’s crammed in between strangers on a long table, everyone dressed in fabrics she’s never seen with dyes so saturated they seem almost gory, eating stuff that isn’t food and talking loud enough to make her want to hurl a glass into the wall. It’s bizarre. The woman next to her, ruddy-faced and bald, wears a headpiece that shines like the sun the Isles doesn’t have; the other side is taken up by a stranger in a bone-white porcelain mask who has not moved but to swill the wine around in their glass. There’s scarcely room for Pax’s chair. It all feels like such a baffling pantomime of aristocracy (she's known the real thing well enough – feasts and toasts and luxurious gifts she had no use for, and if she doesn’t stop thinking about it she actually will throw a glass), bright colours and rich settings and a god taking offerings at the head of the table.

At least, Pax thinks, no-one tries to talk to him; they’re too busy fawning over their lord. Which is probably to be expected; but it all feels so strange, so unsettling, the way they all lean in towards it like flowers turning to face the sun, like seaweed dragged at by the inescapable pull of the tides. They grow towards it through the cracks in the air, matter moving toward the inevitable centre, as if they can imagine nothing more than this.

(Even more unsettling is the way it responds in kind, listening attentively to anyone who speaks to it, leaning in as though to kiss them, as though to swallow them whole. All hell, why did Pax agree to this? Why did they come?)

(They should have told it to fuck off. Should have said no way, I don’t want to help you, don’t want to get involved in anything you’d need my help for. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m done.)

(Pax is done. Pax is sick to death of all this shit; doesn’t want to deal with this, the vaguely described problems of a god that picks people apart like it’s unravelling a thick yarn shawl. Doesn’t want to deal with anything like this. He’s had his fill of gods.)

(Why is he still fucking here? Why did he agree to this? This is no better than eating in that weird fucking inn in town. This is no better than –)

(That’s a lie. It’s a bit better than Cyrodiil. Just as much a shithole, but it pulls the rug out from under him often enough that he doesn’t have time to think too much.)

“Not hungry?” says a prowling voice, coiling catlike into the plaits in their hair, and Pax jumps enough to jostle the masked bastard sitting ramrod straight next to him.

He looks up.

At the empty placemat across from him sits a figure veiled in gossamer, glittering in the glow of the lit-up lichen on the distant throne; the fabric of its endless shawls pulls apart at the ends, peeling away from itself, shedding patches like iridescent insect wings every time it shifts. If Pax squints, they can see through it to the grand marbled wall behind.

She glances back at the chair at the head of the table, where something lounges, eyes dripping gold, intricately carved cane laid across its knees; its too-many fingers are laced with the hand of a man whose gown blooms floral. Flatly, she says, “What the fuck?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Sheogorath asks, pouting; she can hear it laughing down the other end of the table. “It’s a proper feast. We pulled out all the stops.”

Pax shifts their eyes away to peer down at their plate. “You have served me worms,” she says. She flicks the dish with a fingernail. “In jelly. With flowers.”

“Larva, actually,” Sheogorath replies. It’s still at the other end of the table. It doesn’t seem eager to explain this. When it smiles, the gossamer falls away; its whole face splits in half.

It’s all so fucking stupid. Pax takes a deep breath – in through the nose, ignore all the odd spiced smells, and out – and does not yell at it, or try to hit it, because she’s gotten herself into a situation where that’s not really an option, because she’s a fucking idiot. Why didn’t she just say no?

(She knows why.)

The Mad God’s teeth flash bright as the ornate silver cutlery. Its chair scrapes back from the table. “It melts in your mouth,” it tells her, eyes glittering, “but I won’t make you try it. Walk with me?”

The figure still sits at the head of the table, snatching something from someone’s plate, always, always laughing. Its limbs sprawl like tentacles, like the silken threads of a tapestry, to encompass the whole room. The dinner guests stare as though bewitched, bedevilled, beguiled. Not one of them is looking at Pax. If he were to drop dead with his face in the food his corpse would not be discovered until sunrise.

Pax sniffs and shoves his chair back from the table. He lets Sheogorath (the second Sheogorath – but it must be, what else could it be?) lead him through a narrow door into some winding hallway, the walls lined and rimed with ornate coloured-glass windows. (It’s so much quieter. Still as garishly bright, but Pax is getting the sense that that is inescapable, here; the clothes they wear, as crumpled and covered in travelling-grime as ever and startlingly out of place against the odd jagged finery of the dinner party, seem unimaginably dull in comparison. Everything seems unimaginably dull in comparison.) Outside the windows, they can catch glimpses of the city – its winding, lamp-lit streets, the jumbled mess of its architecture, the sky arcing above it like a child’s attempt at watercolours. Pax wants to smash it, tear it down.

There’s no sun here, but still it’s night. The sky has shifted to purple and black.

“Isn’t it nice?” says their companion; when they look back, it’s nothing more than a shifting impression in the stained-glass window, a series of hairline cracks. It still manages, somehow, to smile at them.

It’s not. The sky is a shadow and the flamboyance of the palace is scraping at their spine. “Sure,” Pax says flatly. When she flexes her fingers, the bruising staining the base knuckle of her thumb aches.

Sheogorath looks at her – an ancient man leaning on a stick, a flickering painting, a bloody corpse, a little girl in velvet-red skirts, a breath. In its mercurial shifting she catches the flowery blossom of the man at the table’s collar, an unpleasant glimpse of her own braided hair, the smell of sulphur. It tips its head. She can’t focus on it anywhere but for the eyes.

“You don’t like my dinner parties,” it announces, as though it’s a revelation, a tragedy; its body crumbles like sea cliffs slowly eroded by the ways. It’s annoying – bloody obnoxious, and incomprehensible, and kind of weird that it noticed, that it would even care. (She’s never liked dinner parties. Nobody ever commented on it before.)

I’ve had well enough of them, Pax could say, or no, I don’t like you, but it’s the fucking Mad God, Daedric Prince of – Pax doesn’t even know what, he’s never known much about this shit, only that it’s well worth avoiding. Prince of the mad and the missing and the foolish, of breaking and breaking and putting yourself back together backwards. She should have said no, but she didn’t, and who knows what would happen if she went back on that now?

It's slinking closer. All that stay static enough to make out are eyes and teeth.

“Pax, yes?” it says, soft-voiced – a hand lands on his arm, small and dry and shivering, the skin as thing as a mouldering leaf. “You have no obligations here. If you want to be on your own, be on your own. We’ve plenty of space for it.”

Pax’s eyes narrow. He does not jerk away from it.

In the light of the coloured sky, the coloured windows, its face is phantasmagorical. “If you don’t want to be here,” it continues – still so skin-pricklingly gentle – “then your hand will not be forced. I’ll speed your way home if you wish.”

They can’t help but twitch at that. It’s setting their teeth on edge. (It’s lying – has to be. After its ages of coaxing them in, meting out information, not telling them where they were until they were on its doorstep, it would not give them the chance to leave.) Rough, still covered in road-grime, Pax asks, “Why should I believe you?”

(None of them have ever given them the chance to leave.)

Sheogorath, a figure of hollow skin and bone, inclines its head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Pax,” it says. Its eyes are wide and bulging, whites on full display like a frightened horse; it grins again. “Others might. But we’re not a monolith. We’re not even especially similar.”

Pax bites down on the flat edge of their tongue. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

The light coming in through the windows flickers. The Mad God turns to meet it.

“I’m the youngest,” it says, its voice glittering like mist on the air. “Did you know that? I don’t remember the world without you in it.” Its form spasms, volatile, wings and limbs and eyes like a snail’s on stalks sprouting and choking and subsiding back into its mass. “I’m closer to you than any. I understand, almost.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Pax repeats. She’s gritting her teeth, tonguing at her gums where two are missing. Are two devil-gods not enough to deal with for a lifetime? Is there really going to be more of this now, too?

Rolling through the air like smoke, the voice says, “It will.”

Pax presses purple-green knuckles to her mouth. Her teeth dig into the soft meat of her lip.

Sheogorath turns to face her, hair moving as though blown by the wind, as though tugged by the tides. It sighs. “You don’t believe me,” it says. Its tongue pokes through its teeth. “That’s perfectly fine. Clever, even. But if you want to leave, all you need to do is tell me so.” It pauses, then; the train of its strange, gnarled crown shifts over its shoulders when it moves its head. “Or just leave. The door is still open.”

“You’d be fine with me just leaving,” Pax rasps around his knuckle, “after weeks of not leaving me alone?”

(Of begging him to come, poorly-hidden agitation giving way to blatant franticness, half-swallowing the fear that choked its face in every mirror it spoke to him through. Of begging him still, after he got here, after he met it – begging in a roundabout manner, casual as anything, its every motion reeking of fear. Its abject terror when he turned to leave. You’ve come this far. Why not hear an old man out? Pax told it that it wasn’t an old man, that he didn’t give a shit either way, and it slid through a child, a monster, a sulphur-burned body coughing blood, his own shuddering form in armour he hasn’t seen in months, and it said please.)

(Regained its composure, its gentleman’s face, immediately afterward. But it – the Mad God, unknowable, inconsolable – said please. Pax still doesn’t know what to do with that.)

The Mad God, now, shrugs. Taps at the hairline cracks in the stained glass windows. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” it says, one pair of hands braiding something intricate into its beard. The hand on the glass slips down. “I told you. I do need a champion.”

“And I told you,” Pax bites, something aching and ugly surging in their gut, “not to call me that again.”

A smile, bloody-mouthed and beaming. “But we will abide,” says Sheogorath, and digs its fingers into the cracks of the stone. One brick slides loose, mortar dug up under its nails. It offers it up.

Pax licks their teeth and takes it.

The brick shivers, momentarily – crumbles, in their hand, like sand slithering through their fingers, and left in their palm is a hardy slip of bone. Spiked and sprawling, carved with intricate patterns; it arranges itself around an oval of empty space, the perfect size for four sharp-knuckled fingers.

“You can always leave,” the Mad God tells them, and for a moment it does look so very young and strangely, staggeringly hopeful. “But give it a chance. I think you could love the Isles, if you choose to.”

[lanayrutower]

ALSO does no one find it even a little weird how the old Zelda games firmly state that it's Hylia who built/was the first ruler of Hyrule (the king is just. sort of there), and then totk comes in and is like ahaaa no it's actually rauru who's so special and godlike actually. yeah, his wife was actually his priestess who once served him and then died stupidly because she wasn't paying attention. mmhm, she was also the reason ganon was able to take over hyrule and be super duper evil btw. uwu.

[lululeighsworld]

and for Gunter's birthday fic this year I finally ended up writing Leigh's love confession to him; I promise his birthday is relevant!! 💜❤️

Read the story here on AO3

[malleleothreesome]

YOUR MALLEUS POST IS JUST!!!!! AGDKFFLSVFL!!!! WHO KNOWS HOW MANY TIMES I RE-READ THAT THING BUT IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT!!!! 😫😭👌🖤💚

I'm so late to this but thank you so much Knight!! 🖤💚🖤💚 I'm so happy you enjoyed Blindfolded Malleus... I was so excited for you to read it, and I'm very happy it lived up to the hype and anticipation!!! Truly, I am so honored and grateful that you would re-read something so long 🥹 it amazes me how supportive you are!! I hope I can continue to write things that you enjoy! One day in the [regretfully] far future I swear to you that I will put out an Idia fic just for you hehehe. I'm so overwhelmed by the amount of things I am excited to write, but I guess that is a wonderful problem to have! I only wish I had more time in the day to write, but alas, such is life. Why the fUCk am I writing so formal right now daiohssadoi;hdSAO not me saying BUT ALAS. SUCH IS LIFE????? It is so.

I'm actually taking a TWELVE DAY vacation from work starting on the 22nd so I might actually do a little request event where people can send me like kink prompts or something. I think that'll be fun!

Okay and FINE I'll do some fluff prompts too for the fluff people but please don't judge my fluff too harshly, I'm still learning!!! For some reason smut just comes naturally dhaDSAHIDDASijdsan I'll start gathering some prompts and we will do a little ask game or something.

📣 By the way FELLOW HONEST THIGH RIDING ANON if you SEE this first of all, ONCE AGAIN: I wish to express my undying devotion to you and your exceptional thought process. I am positively frothing at the mouth over your request and I am PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE I am finally making good progress and it WILL be out soon. We WILL make him cum in his pants. We WILL make him cry, whimper, and moan.

[magical-girl-coral]

Okay, what is the Internet's brilliant idea of how to stop the I/p conflict

*checks notes*

You people are planning on boycotting an entire fucking country?

[dbphantom]

you know if you guys voted for stretch armstrong i probably would have shut up a lot sooner tonight

[reiverreturns]

some of the popular reactions to the ted lasso finale are a perfect example of why big fandoms are sometimes not all that fun tbqh

[oumaheroes]

I may be biased but of course ‘Odd Socks’ is my favourite story of yours 💖 (and probably my favourite thing I’ve ever read in general) I always go back to it if I’m feeling down or I’m just peckish for some scotfra and it always leaves me so satisfied and the ending always makes me so giddy with happiness. You capture everything so beautifully, it honestly feels like magic idk how you do it but you have a way of telling stories that’s so immersive and atmospheric and I can imagine them so vividly in my head being all in love and married and ahhh! I am going to go back and reread it in a minute ajhsjshsj one of my favourite parts of your writing is the dialogue, it’s such a hard thing to get right and you do it so flawlessly! I’ve said this before but reading the conversations between Arthur and Francis is always so fun, and I just love them in this fic 🥺 you have one of the most interesting and dynamic portrayals of them I’ve ever read and it’s probably my favourite ❤️

Phi... Phi 😭😭

I don't care if you're biased, this is such a lovely thing to hear and i want to squeeze you really tight ❤️ Odd socks was all for you, especially the dancing scene!!

[shoebillstork]

Hmm I don't like Impa now that I've replayed getting to Kakariko

[kurooh]

FILL ME UP ! — BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

⊹₊˚. he thinks you look so pretty with his cum dripping from your pussy.

⟡ feat. aged up! midoriya izuku, bakugō katsuki, kirishima eijirou, dabi, takami keigo.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, oral [f receiving], cum eating.

⟡ xoxo, juno: i’m sorry this is so short ): the past 72 hours have been horrible hahah

— MIDORIYA IZUKU.

unsurprisingly, he wants to get you pregnant someday; he cums the hardest whenever he thinks about filling you up with his cum and picturing your swollen belly.

“ah, baby, i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum— fuck! where do you want it?” izuku stutters, hips jerking wildly as pleasure zaps through him like lightning.

“inside, ‘zuku..”

“a-are you sure?” his voice rises in surprise and he doesn’t know where to put his hands when you thrust your ass into his pelvis. your eyes are hooded when you turn, tossing him a look over your shoulder that has him spilling inside of you with a desperate whine.

izuku cums so much that it starts to run down the length of his cock, so he collects the excess on his fingers before rubbing his sticky fingers against your clit.

you moan lowly, “fuck it deep, izu.”

with a shaky nod and a tight grip on your hips, he complies, thrusting into you hard. despite having cum already, he feels his cock throb, eager to fill you up again.

“can i cum again, please? need to fill you up!”

— BAKUGŌ KATSUKI.

he fills you up because he has a possession kink.. in his mind, cumming inside you makes you his. he’ll take photos/videos of you dripping with his cum and jerk off to it later.

“s-shit, your pussy’s so fuckin’ tight,” katsuki grits out, pressing into the backs of your thighs to make the mating press a little closer. your ankles rest on his shoulders, feet dangling, gold anklet with a ‘k’ he gave you catching the afternoon light through the window.

you grin up to him, before pleasure washes over your whole body and your face falls as you moan. “go ahead and fill it up, kat.. i need it so badly.”

“shit, you’re not on the pill.” crimson eyes are full of worry and thoughtfulness.

“i don’t fucking care,” you groan, your eyes rolling back when the tip of his cock presses deep inside you, in just the right place.

katsuki doesn’t doubt you, or object — after all, he wants to fill you up. but why are his balls clenching at your words, his cock spilling cum deep inside you so quickly?

you feel his cock tighten inside you before heat is gushing all over you, sending you right into your own orgasm. he pulls back to stare, watching wide eyed as his cum drips out of your fluttering hole.

“fuck, you’re so good. i’ll never be able to pull out again, god.”

— KIRISHIMA EIJIROU.

he loves to make you as messy as possible, and then he’ll lick it all up.

“mmmh, ‘m still sensitive eiji..” your words come out as a soft mewl as your boyfriend spreads your legs open eagerly.

“wanna taste,” eijirou mumbles, eyes hooded as he notices your hole clench on nothing as he licks smeared cum off your thigh. “i also wanna make you cum again, yeah?”

“y-yeah,” you stutter when he drags his tongue along the sides of your pussy, collecting your squirt and his own cum on his tongue. eijirou swallows, kissing your clit with a quiet moan before he’s licking a stripe between your folds.

when he hears you whimper at the light touch, he fights off a smile and dips his tongue inside you easily. he tastes the bitterness of his own cum and the sweetness of your slick, and lets out a groan as his cock throbs against the bed beneath him.

“god.. ‘s good.” he doesn’t hesitate to pull back, pressing his tongue flat against your clit. then he slides his fingers into you, looking up at you eagerly. eijirou’s eyes meet yours, and he grins at just how shy you look.

“don’t worry baby, i’m gonna make you squirt again, yeah? focus on me.”

— DABI [TODOROKI TŌYA].

whenever tōya’s feeling jealous, he fills you up and makes you cry.. sometimes he likes to fuck you on top of a building or in an alleyway during pro-hero hawks’ patrols.

“you gotta scream for me, doll,” tōya hisses before biting into your shoulder while his grip on your neck gets tighter.

face burning with horniness and head spinning, you let out a long whine, and it echoes in the secluded alleyway. “fill me up and make me yours, tōya!”

he ignores the rustle of feathers from above, and only fucks into you harder. a thin sheen of sweat gleams on the darkened skin of his chest, the staples shining even more in the light.

tōya thinks you look beautiful like this, back against the wall and oh so pliant — letting him bounce you on his cock, or fuck your hole until all you can slur out is his name.

“louder. let the whole city know who’s fuckin’ you, doll.”

— TAKAMI KEIGO.

though he’s human, his bird-like quirk influences so much about him, such as his food choices, interests, and the way he likes to fuck.

vermillion wings rustle beneath you as you ride keigo’s cock into oblivion. his head is thrown back, golden tufts spread out on the car seat around it; above, your holding down both of his wrists tightly.

“lemme touch you, dove, come onnn.”

“no,” you gasp after a particularly deep stroke, “you’re just g-gonna bounce me up ‘nd down, and i want to ride you.”

your eyes close tightly as you languidly drag yourself up and down, pussy squeezing him so tight he feels like he’s about to burst. slowly, he feels himself thicken, approaching his high.

it’s as if a switch is flipped.

without even holding your hips and waist, keigo slams his hips upwards into you, stretching out your pussy almost mercilessly.

“keigo! that’s not— fuck!” your voice breaks off into a gasp, tits bouncing as he fucks you hard.

“g-gotta fill you up, dove.” his golden eyes are dark, swirling with some kind of breeding instinct. his wings are fluttering now, beating the air so strongly that goosebumps rise on your skin.

keigo’s entire body lurches beneath you as he chokes out a groan, “nghhh— i’m cumming, shit..”

his cock spills inside of you, effectively filling you up. however, he makes no move to pull out. when you start to sit up, he stops you.

“mm mm. let’s let it sit for a while, ‘nd i’ll stay inside, alright?”

[tojisun]

Okay, now I need something about bf!logan and his girl making a porno (bonus points if wade finds out after the show they put on for him and that man is willing to RISK IT ALL to see that sex tape😩🤣)

cw: porn link; f!reader; smut; consensual filming during sex; slight sexting at the end // divider by @/plutism!

this is definitely the porno they were making <3

logan has you on your knees, your ass dimpling with every one of his greedy caresses, his heavy hand kneading your flesh. you’re whining to be creampied—to be bred—and logan indulges you with a quiet chuckle because you’re so adorable like this, all needy and demanding, babbling nothing but nonsense because he’s fucked you to the point of incoherence.

you jut out your chin at his croon. he tells you to do it yourself if you really want his cum; says that you’ve got to show him how much you need it.

“an’ here i thought i was bein’ a gentleman,” logan says, sighing in that what-can-you-do? tone like he hadn’t been fucking you so hard, you were sure that the condom was on the brink of ripping.

you grumble, rolling your eyes even mid-tears, before reaching back to where he’s got his cock rutting along the cleft of your ass. you give it a stroke, giggling breathily to yourself at its sheer girth and weight, before sliding your hand down to the pinched tip and tugging.

logan moans, and it rumbles deep, sending tingles to rise from the tips of your toes to the base of your neck. he sounds just a little too excited, and you wonder how you must look as you reach for the rubber, tugging it off the expanse of his cock. do you look desperate, the camera capturing the way you’re shivering like you’re on cum-withdrawals? or do you look like the brat that you are, whining how sex is not enough until logan’s pumping you full of his sperm?

god, the thought that this moment is being immortalized makes you clench at nothing, your hole puckering as it waits to be filled.

the condom comes off with a pop, the rubber snapping off and into itself. it sounds so lewd and dirty, like the two of you are really starring in a corny porno, and it fills your cheeks with warmth as your need wanes in the face of your shyness.

you fling the condom to the side, before burrowing your face on the pillows, as though that alone can hide the palpable hunger rippling from you. logan laughs at your reaction like he’s not softly humping his cock between your thighs, rutting it along the wet mess he’s made out of your cunt.

“y’ready, bub?” logan asks, still giddy with his laugh. you grumble a reply, before jutting your head in a stilted nod.

he taps his weeping cock along your folds, testing, and you shuffle in your impatience. you feel the itch exploding, the need to be stuffed bloating, but logan continues to tease and god, pleasepleaseplease—

“i’ve got you, darl,” he grunts, then he’s pushing in, steady and filling, and, and—

the moan that’s ripped from your throat sounds foreign, like you’re a damn wounded animal. you don’t even get to adjust to his width—pussy lips going taut at his thickness—before logan’s drawing his cock out until all that’s left is the head. there’s a bated breath that you two share, leaving you suspended in anticipation, then he’s bullying it back in.

you flop on the bed, all useless now like you’ve got your strings cut loose. logan doesn’t seem to mind, not with the consistent ringing slaps of his pelvis meeting your ass echoing in your quaint room. god, your brain’s being scrambled right now, you’re sure, because you can’t even think of anything but logan—

loganloganlogan.

you’re already cross-eyed by the time he sprays his first load inside you.

.

wade gets a five second clip from logan’s number. the thumbnail is just a blur of colours and wade’s interest is piqued because logan rarely reaches out to him—a video is just unthinkable.

he was expecting many things—that the video is the one of deadpool being broadcasted on national television with the words “hero or criminal?” after he’s accidentally set the robber’s van on fire, or that the video is an accidental recording of logan’s butt because that wolverine suit was tight and wade can’t even think where logan must keep his phone with him.

but this—

wade wasn’t expecting this.

it was a video of you—wade’s not even embarrassed to admit that he’s memorized the way you look from all angles; what? one doesn’t get a show of wolverine fucking his girl without gaining a new hyperfixation—reaching for logan’s monster cock. wade breathes in sharply as he watches you reach for the condom before tugging it off with a filthy, filthy pop. the video cuts into a next scene of logan relentlessly fucking you hard; the audio is a mess of squeaks and slaps, but also the wet squelches of logan’s cock fucking in-and-out of your gaping cunt.

two things:

1. that’s fucking hot.

2. that video has clearly been tampered with; it was edited to show the barest of the highlights.

this was a conscious decision, with deliberate efforts. this was personal.

an invitation.

wade rubs one… okay, fine.

wade rubs three out before he’s running back to that apartment he’s daydreamed about. mid-parkour, another notifcation comes in. wade falls, because of course he does, but while he waits for his ankle to mend itself back into its socket, his eyes devour the new message.

> darl wants to know if you’re in.

wade sends a dick pic as a reply.

wade busting a fat nut behind tim hortons because he’s patriotic like that

(ext)

[largishcat]

I’m not sure exactly how to articulate it but—there is this bizarre base assumption i see from people discoursing about children’s media, and that’s the assumption that children are somehow unfamiliar with negative emotions. Like, maybe you’ve managed to completely forget your entire life before you turned eighteen, but kids spend a lot of time being hurt, and scared, and angry. A lot of people had terrible fucking childhoods, and a lot of kids are having terrible fucking childhoods right now. When i was a child, and i read books where bad things happened to kids, that was in no way shocking to me, i already knew bad things happened to children. It made me feel more connected to those stories, not less, and it made it more impactful when those child characters overcame it all in the end. That’s important for children. A lot of them are in desperate need of a little hope, and they aren’t going to get it from nothing stories with no conflict. They put conflict in children’s media for a reason

Also i see some of you handwringing over child protagonists going through, like, the most basic hero’s journey. Please, for the love of god, realize that you as an adult are going to understand children’s media differently than the actual kids it’s intended for. Because you’re all grown up now, you aren’t going to be able to relate to a child protagonist. You’re going to see a child in danger. The children the story is meant for are going to see a kid like them who is able to face hardship and triumph