#minors in fandom

[myfandomrealitea]

where the hell are minor proshippers supposed to go?? like just not post or make anything till they 18 or

The unfortunate reality is that a lot of proshipping revolves around adult topics and topics which are largely, by law, age restricted. Exposing minors to or engaging with minors regarding or even providing minors with access to such things can come at a very real, very legal cost.

And yes, yes. I know. Minors aren't fragile little glass things who shouldn't know about kink and sex until they're 80, but the law is the law, and even the people who acknowledge that someone who is 17 is absolutely looking at porn and having sex do not want to be thrown in jail or fined.

That and muppets on the internet will see anyone over the age of 18 interacting even casually with someone under the age of 18 and start dragging them across the internet as a rampant pedophile, so.

That said, there are a fair few minor-friendly proshipper based or friendly blogs also. You just have to sift through and look for them, and I do highly recommend thoroughly checking them out and keeping a hawk's eye on them because a lot of the time they're "infiltrated" by people looking to deliberately cause trouble.

This is a common complaint minors in fandom spaces as a whole have (which is vastly understandable). I'm considering creating a masterlist of minor-safe spaces and blogs potentially in the future.

[sad-endings-suck]

6. Doing my best to use the spoiler tag in good faith. Especially when it’s easy and a particular spoiler has only been canonized very recently.

“You are responsible for the minors in your fandom!!!”

No, I’m fucking not. I’m not your parent. My past-times do not automatically sign me up to act in loco parentis. If you need someone else to monitor your own content consumption online, go get mommy and/or daddy to set up a content blocker on your computer.

[nutmeggery]

actually I will say something about this:

setting up a romance line but waiting until one of the actors is a freshly legal adult before executing it is creepy, actually, especially when the co-star is 15 years older

[egophiliac]

sorry, i thought that image of sebek and silver against a silouette overblot malleus was actually a silouette of malleus's mom in a stunning dress

to be fair, at any given moment you can assume I am drawing Meleanor in some kind of fancy dress. she's just standing offscreen most of the time (and judging you)

[aroaceleovaldez]

we as a fandom need to bring back minor character x minor character ships because whatever was in the water with Katie Gardner x Travis Stoll is fascinating and i wanna know why that happened and we need more of that.

[snowyrey]

AFTER DARK: AN 18+ AFTER HOURS DLC

Currently in development for the tragically down bad! Cuz good lord some of y’all are very honest about it! Wow! Good lord!

Edit: April Fools lel

[drinkinggblood]

panel re-re-redraw

[leupagus]

Gotta say I find the college-aged kids whose profiles read "MINORS DNI!!!" adorable. Babycakes I know it's exciting being at the grown-up table now, but those were your classmates five minutes ago. Maybe calm down.

[myfandomrealitea]

I think most people would, if they knew my stance on shipping, put me into the pro shipping category.

But I feel uncomfortable being labeled this way because I very much have limits.

I don't think people should write fanfiction or draw explicit fanart of characters being played (or voiced) by underage actors (and ofc the same applies to explicit rpf of said actors).

I just think the risk of these young, valuable people coming across these fanworks featuring either them or their likeness is too high (and one also has to remember the natural curiosity to check out stuff featuring them).

I don't think I'm being unreasonable here, but what do you think?

I think that that's a reasonable stance and perspective, to have.

The common assumption about proshipping is that you absolutely have to support and endorse absolutely everything and if you don't you're backsliding into being an anti, or you're not fully a proshipper.

But here's the thing; that's not actually the core meaning or value of proshipping. Proshipping does not inherently negate or demand that you have absolutely no limits or that you can't inherently disagree with or be uncomfortable with certain things.

Everyone has certain limits and certain things they simply cannot support or agree with. And that's perfectly fine. Where proshipping comes into it is recognising that everyone has that right, and also the right to still create and engage with things that you personally don't.

Its absolutely fine not to want to identify as a proshipper if you feel that your stance and your limits might be misperceived by using the label. Proshipping does have its inherent meaning and core values, but everyone also uses the label differently and assigns different, personal interpretations and values to it.

There's no obligation to use labels in fandom spaces at all, and there's also no obligation to have an 'all or nothing' stance. I know people who are, by definition, antis, but they're also heavily anti-harassment. They don't think that, morally, I should be writing incest porn, but they also recognise that even if I do, it doesn't necessarily mean I support it in real life either.

Being concerned about how fiction might impact real people is a very considerate, respectful concern to have. Its also why fandom spaces need to remain self-moderated in terms of properly using tags, filters, ect. Another common misconception people have about proshipping and anti-censorship is the assumption that we want to be able to just throw pornography and fiction around anywhere and everywhere, but actually, we still very much believe that everything has its place, and that there are proper, respectful ways and places to host content.

There's a lot of rambling I could do about the symbiosis of respect and moderation between a person/their guardians and fandom content creators, but that would be digressing slightly.

(And the point that a lot of fanfiction about teenagers and minors is written by teenagers and minors.)

The general gist is;

Your opinion is not unreasonable. Nor do I think any less of you for it. Nor would any proshipper, really. That's your concern, your limit, and that should be respected. In the same way that you would need to respect that that content does, and will always, exist, and the people who do write it with the proper measures taken are no less deserving of at the very minimum, your acceptance of the fact that they have a right to.

Proshipping is not:

Having no limits at all.

Thinking that you MUST create absolutely any and all content.

Thinking that you MUST support absolutely any and all content.

Thinking that nobody ever can be uncomfortable with or disinterested in what you create or what is being created.

Proshipping is:

Understanding fiction is not a 1:1 reflection of a person's real interests beliefs, values or their moral standings.

Understanding that fiction is not reality. It does not create victims.

That within the bounds of law, people have a right to create content, even if its content you personally do not support or agree with.

Understanding you do not have the right to dictate what someone can or cannot create, and that you do not have the right to be cruel or harmful to them because of what they create.

[storiesconsumemysoul]

Look I'm still processing my own feelings around the Siuan Sanche decision and execution but I gotta get this out of my system real quick. Firstly, some of y'all are way too comfortable swatting down, mocking, and condescending to fans (BIPOC fans in particular) who are upset. I'd recommend reigning that shit in. You can disagree and push back without resorting to all of that. Many such examples abound already within this discussion itself. Maybe try to emulate that approach instead of just bulldozing through an emotionally and politically charged discourse for minority fans.

Secondly, try engaging with this backlash with the larger context of the show in mind. Or even just S3. Look at how many characters (with speaking roles) died this season and how many of them were black. Think about the unnecessary death of Child Valda (Eamon Valda) this early in the series. The actor, Abdul Salis, devoured his introduction scene (and every scene since) so goddamn thoroughly that he instantly made the White Cloaks a terrifying presence that has resonated throughout the rest of the show. This brilliance gets rewarded with an anticlimactic quick death, with no buildup, by the hands of characters we haven't had the time to get to know properly, and who didn't even share a single scene with him prior. Right when Perrin, who does have a real established connection with him, is set up to spend a whole lot of time with the White Cloaks. Why not keep him for longer, doing what he does best, so that when the girls kill him down the line we'd have spent enough time building up to their confrontation to make for a proper earned send off worthy of such a towering talent?

And Ryma, played magnificently by Nyokabi Gethaiga, who absolutely electrifies from the get-go and through (2x6) in particular (along with her warder Basan played by Bentley Kalu). Ryma whose scream and anguished face as she is being collared by the Seanchan has haunted us for the last two years. Who left such an impression of her kindness, her strength, her faith in her sisters, her bottomless love for her warder, and with so little on-screen time. Gets one singular scene this season. With no acknowledgment, explanation, or addressing of any part of her role last season. How was she freed? When? Why was she not part of the effort to uncover Black Ajah in the tower when we saw her so deeply pained and shaken even by just the realization that one of her sisters could betray their sisterhood? She was written into such an afterthought background character this season that so many audience members seem to have straight up not even recognized her as the same character from S2, as Ryma, at all.

And Ihvon, originally played by Emmanuel Imani and recast this season to be played by Anthony Kaye, who dies in ep.(1) and, to the show's credit, haunts Alanna and Maksim's storyline so strongly that we feel his presence throughout the season. But we see none of that reflected in the tower. With Stepin (Peter Franzén) in S1, we get such a beautiful display of the warder's brotherhood, cultural ties to each other, and most importantly, how deeply loved Stepin was by his fellow warders. S1 makes us feel the loss of him reverberate through them all so devastatingly. Where is that grief for Ihvon? Where is his community? We spend so much time in the tower immediately in the aftermath of his death, and yet there is no one to mourn or honor him in the absence of Alanna and Maksim? We couldn't have had some of our characters pass by or even just hear about the other warders holding a funeral for him? Or just remembering him in some way?

I could go on for a good while still honestly. And sure, we could make legitimate arguments and have readings that justify these choices individually. But regardless, what this shows in aggregate, is a pattern of clumsiness in handling dark-skinned black characters/actors in particular. While at the same time, playing around with extremely politically, historically, and emotionally charged images of black bodies. Be it Ryma being collared and never addressing it again, Child Valda's whole thing, etc. etc. ... and now Siuan Sanche bruised black and blue, bloody, stripped to her shifts, bodily dragged across the hall, and decapitated. These are incredibly powerful and visceral images.

And no, before someone tries to make this point, I am not saying you can't graphically kill, write off, or deprioritize black characters/actors for perfectly legitimate artistic or practical reasons under any circumstances. I am saying that those choices don't exist in a vacuum. The context of the text at large and the real world are inevitably going to be part of how those decisions are received. It's not enough to have good faith diverse casting. And it is not unreasonable to expect a continued treatment of care and thoughtfulness past the casting stage and into every other facet of their presence and exit from the story.

[a-lost-soul1204]

young people these days hating on older people for being in fandoms, thinking it’s weird, calling them hags never ceases to amaze me because when I was younger I always looked up to older people online. Even now when I look at older people online like if I see 60+ year olds in fandoms, on sns I’m always in awe. It’s truly so beautiful to me, as someone who’s been quite depressed and suicidal, it brings me great comfort that the future might be bright. Aging doesn’t have to be scary. Life is meant to be enjoyed! you don’t have to give up on things that make you happy as you age.

[alicornze7]

Silly guys goin' on silly adventures:]

@rorydrawsandwrites's puppeteer au but the only difference is that jax gives consent

My contribution to this wonderful au has been long overdue:')

Rambling in tags ehe (cw: ribbun:p)

Well maybe it's not the only difference

[happy74827]

Ice Breaker

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You start to see your acquaintance/friend in a new light after saving your life.

WC: 6994 (oh, jeez)

Category: Fluff, Eventual Smut (lmfao), Lime/Spice, Slow Burn(ish), {TW: Drowning, Improper Use of Claws (Kinda a joke, kinda not… it’s hinted in the very beginning), P With P, Slight OOC? MDNI!!}

Why am I petrified to post this?? Literally shaking.

So, uh, please be nice to me 😭🫶 Smut is NOT my strong suit. This is like my 3rd attempt at it and the first time I’m posting it. Kinda scary. But I wanted to be that person who wrote all genres (dunno why), so here’s a fic containing mostly all genres? I guess?

@yoursacredqueenmother helped with some parts (mostly the ending) and my confidence so shout out to my queen!! Love you girlie 💞

『••✎••』

Warmth and pain. It’s all you felt. Your lungs were aching, begging for the oxygen that the cold water was denying you. Your vision blurred as your body screamed for air. The feeling of a strong pair of arms wrapped around you, pulling you out of the depths and into a blinding light. You felt the air hit your face as you were laid onto solid ground, a large hand pushing on your chest.

Suddenly, you felt the pressure of a mouth being pressed against yours, and it took a moment before your mind registered what was happening.

It was then a sound of a gasp and a deep, throaty growl sounded from above you, and the warm, comforting weight of the hand was suddenly gone. Only replaced by a sound that resembled a sword being drawn from a sheath.

And then, pain once more. You felt something lodge into the airway, and your body was instantly set into a frenzy, attempting to rid itself of the object. In an instant, the sound similar to a sword repeated itself, replaced only by the feeling of being turned onto your side. Your body began to convulse as a mix of the icy lake water, and your stomach acid spewed from your throat.

When your body finally stilled, your eyes fluttered open to reveal a blurry vision; you began to hear things more clearly. Muffles turned into a voice, which turned into words.

"Shit… Fucking shit," Deep and gruff, almost a growl. You remembered that voice. You knew that voice. "Jesus, you’re ice cold. Fuck!"

The sound of a zipper was heard, and before you knew it, a weight was placed over you, and you were off the ground and in the air.

That’s when you peered up and saw him. The very same man who claimed he was far from a hero. He was carrying you with his arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. He was constantly flickering his gaze to look down at you while you did nothing but stare back.

It was after a moment that your senses were coming back to you, and you began to notice things more clearly.

His jaw was clenched tight, and the look in his eyes was one of concern. You didn't know if it was your imagination, but it looked like there was a tint of red around his iris, which was now a piercing hazel color. The muscles of his face were taut and strained. The furrow of his brow gave him a look of worry while the twitch of his lips hinted at annoyance.

"Lo…" You didn’t realize the impact the water and the ice had had on you until you tried to speak, the sound coming out weak and broken. His gaze flicked back to you, and the red ring around his eyes was gone.

"It’s alright. It’s… You’re gonna…" The cold air hit his face as he opened his mouth, causing his breath to turn into fog. "You’re gonna be fine, Sweetheart. We’re gonna get you somewhere warm, alright?"

You couldn't help but shiver at the term of endearment and nodded in response, knowing that any attempt to speak would probably just come out in a croak.

You didn’t remember much after that, only bits and pieces. You remember the sudden quietness as he ripped open the door of his truck and settled you down on the passenger seat. You remember him securing his jacket around your body, his hands lingering a bit too long on your shoulders.

You also remembered the absolute mental breakdown he had when his truck wouldn’t start.

He had slammed his fist into the dashboard, the impact leaving a dent in the metal, while a loud pang signified the adamantium bones beneath. He was muttering curse after curse and had his head leaned back against the headrest, eyes screwed shut, and a look of frustration and pain upon his face.

It was only when he slammed his head into the steering wheel, clearly aggravated by the failure of his truck, did the it finally decide to work.

You don’t remember the drive, only that the heat was cranked up to its maximum, and he was speeding, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tight and his knuckles turning white.

But you remember the look he gave you when he lifted you from the truck, carrying you into some off-the-road motel. For a while, you thought he actually broke into it, but he paid during your trip, both in and out of consciousness.

And now, here you were, completely swaddled in a mass of blankets, in front of a fire that Logan had made as he was pacing the room. His brows were furrowed, and he had his fingers running through his hair in an almost desperate manner. He looked stressed and maybe even a little scared.

Your mind was still foggy, and a wave of pain shot through your head. A wince escaped your lips, and you instantly regretted the noise as Logan snapped his head to you, his eyes wide and his lips parted. He strode over to you, squatting down to your eye level.

"How do ya feel?" He asked, his voice softer than usual.

"F-Freezing," you whispered, your teeth clacking together. Logan looked around frantically, unsure of what to do.

"There’s no fucking hot water in this place," he muttered to himself. "What a shit hole. Fucking cheap bastards. Shit." He continued to ramble, cursing up a storm.

"Logan," you managed to breathe out, your hand reaching out from under the covers and grabbing his bicep. The man was tense as hell. "I-It's fine."

His eyes widened a fraction at your touch before narrowing in frustration.

"It ain't fine," he said, his tone rough. "You’re freezing to the point where yer shaking like a goddamn leaf. How is that fine?"

Your brows furrowed as you tried to sit up, his arms reaching out to push you back down, but you shrugged him off.

"Logan, I'm not… I’m not dying."

He stared at you for a moment, the crease between his brows becoming more pronounced before he shook his head, the muscles of his face twitching in annoyance.

"That ain't the fucking point."

"Then what is the… the point?"

He stood up, beginning to pace again. You watched him carefully as he rubbed a hand over his face, mumbling and cursing to himself. You could feel the frustration practically radiating off him.

You were going to ask him what was wrong, what was the problem, why he was acting so strangely, when his gaze met yours and your breath hitched in your throat.

He looked so… different. You were used to his scowl and his hard features. Quite honestly, his personality was trash mixed with an added dash of salt. But now, even though he held those same hard features, your eyes took it in a whole new way.

His scowl made him seem protective and concerned. His furrowed brow seemed almost endearing, and his clenched jaw gave him a sense of determination.

It made you want to think back on the way he held you and how his arms were secured around you, making you feel all kinds of—

Warmth…

The idea that made you jolt forward, almost falling off the bed.

"Shit!" Logan was at your side in an instant, his arm reaching out and supporting you. "Are ya tryna kill yourself? Lie back down."

"No," you shook your head. "You."

He frowned. "What?"

"You," you repeated, a small smile stretching across your lips. "I need… You."

He stared at you for a moment, his face dropping into a look of confusion. It would’ve been funny if you didn't feel so damn cold.

"Me?"

"Yeah… I n-need heat," another shiver went through you. "And you’re like a furnace. An overheated dog."

"Like a what?" He narrowed his eyes.

"A… just— I'm cold, Logan." You were starting to get tired. "Please."

He blinked at you. Then, he looked at the ground, then at the bed. He was silent for a moment, and you were afraid he wouldn’t do it. But then, his hands were finding the hem of his shirt and lifting it up over his head.

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. So, why did you suddenly feel a heat spreading in the pit of your stomach despite him not even touching you yet? Why were your eyes suddenly wide and focused? Why were your lips parting and your mouth becoming dry?

There was just a perfect amount of hair trailing down from his belly button and leading down into the waistband of his jeans. It was almost like a treasure trail but thicker. His muscles were so well defined, their cords protruding from the skin, and he was flexing and twitching as he moved. His stomach was taut, and his hips were slightly visible. His chest was broad, pecs perfectly formed, and the lines between them were the most appealing things you had ever seen.

And right in the center was the all too familiar chain, with the dog tags dangling down, resting just over his sternum.

You couldn’t help but swallow thickly, a strange and unfamiliar heat washing over you. You didn’t really realize how long you were staring until he spoke.

"A lot of girls would pay good money for the view you're getting," he smirked, and the heat in your stomach only got hotter.

You averted your gaze and coughed into your fist. "Sh-Shut up," you mumbled, pulling the blankets back and slipping under the covers.

Logan sighed as he moved the blankets away from your goosebump-covered skin and settled himself in next to you.

Instantaneously, you sighed as the heat emitting from his body enveloped you while he tensed at the contact.

"Shit, you really are freezing," he grumbled.

You couldn't help the slight moan that came from you as his warm arms wrapped around your waist, his chest pressing flush against your back, and his breath ghosting the back of your neck.

You could sleep like this. In fact, you probably would because you were so tired. Your eyelids felt heavy, and the feeling of his warmth made you feel safe.

For a moment, the only noise that was heard was the crackling of the fire, both your panting breath and his, and the sound his throat was making as he swallowed.

"I, uh," his voice was lower and a lot deeper than before. It seemed to rumble through him and into your back. "I thought ya died. When I found you, I thought you were dead."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your mouth went dry. Damn, already with the emotions.

"Well, I'm not," you told him, your voice a lot softer than his. "I'm fine. I’m okay."

You felt him nod against your shoulder. "Right."

And you knew, deep down, that he was lying.

Logan was never a good liar. You knew it from the moment he stepped foot into the mansion. And this, his actions, was living proof of what a horrible liar he was.

"Logan?"

He grunted. "Hmm?"

"Why did you do it?"

You could feel the way his eyebrow quirked in confusion. "Why did I do what?"

"Follow me, and save me," you stated simply. "You had no reason to."

He was silent for a moment. "And, what? I was supposed to leave you there to die?"

"Yes."

"That ain't—"

"But it is, Logan," you said, and he was quiet once more. "You said it yourself. You aren’t a hero. So why did you save me?"

You always knew the answer. But even if you were currently freezing, you wanted to hear it come from him. It was tiringof hearing the same phrase over and over.

And clearly, you poked a nerve because in an instant, his arms were off of you, and you were being flipped over, with all the blankets thrown to the floor, only to find yourself face to face with Logan.

"Is this you pulling my teeth?" He growled, a look of anger on his face. "It sure as hell ain’t a damn good time."

You couldn’t stop the way your eyes kept flickering down his chest, his pectorals tensing as he breathed.

"You say you aren’t, but you are," you told him, not even listening to him. You were too focused on the way the flames of the fire danced along his skin. "Heroes save people. You saved me."

"This isn’t about heroism." He seethed, and the anger was evident. "It’s about you being a stubborn ass and getting yourself in a damn dangerous situation."

"Dangerous situation?" Now it was your turn to get angry. "Are you serious? Are you actually serious?"

"Who the hell just storms off to go frolicking around on top of a goddamn lake? What the fuck were ya thinking?"

"It’s called ice skating, you stupid bastard," you snapped, feeling your body returning back to a chill due to his absence. "I didn't expect it to break, and I didn’t expect to f-fall through. I don’t have f-fucking x-ray vision."

"Any person with half a brain could see how thin the ice was," he spat. "I mean, look at you! Ya, look like a goddamn popsicle."

"I was trying to enjoy myself, Logan. Something you wouldn't know anything about."

"Enjoy yourself?" He barked out a laugh. "You could've fucking died. That isn't enjoying yourself, Icypop, that's being fucking stupid."

"Don’t call me that."

"You are fucking stupid," he hissed. "Do you know what that would've done? Do ya know what it would've done to—"

"Logan," you snapped. "You… This… This is proving my point. If you truly weren’t a hero, you wouldn’t have cared. You would have let me drown and gone on your merry way."

"Anyone would have cared."

"Not anyone," you retorted, "Not everyone."

"You just think that because it's what you want to think."

"No, it's the truth."

"No, it isn’t."

"You saved me, Logan," you whispered, your eyes finding his, which were still burning with anger. "Get it through your head, you idiot. You saved me. I wasn’t even aware you had followed me, but you c-cared enough to keep me from dying. You aren’t a bad guy, Logan; stop trying to convince yourself you are. Because, clearly, you aren’t."

The two of you were staring at each other, neither of you speaking a word. Your breaths were coming out in puffs of air, while his were heavy and almost raspy. The look on his face was intense, and he was practically trembling with anger.

You couldn't tell what was running through his mind, but you had a feeling it was along the lines of, "I'm not a fucking hero. Shut the hell up," or, "Just let me believe what I want to believe."

You didn't know which one it was, but either way, it would be pointless to argue with him.

He would always try to convince himself that he wasn’t a good person. He would try to convince himself that he wasn’t meant for such things.

Even with proving the opposite in so many situations, he still would never take the hint.

And now, with the way he was looking at you, the two of you breathing in the same air, the heat of his body surrounding you, your eyes trying to forget his state of undress, it was hard not to argue.

You didn't mean to do it, but your hand lifted up, and your fingers grazed the chain of his dog tags, sending a shiver through his body.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes flicker down, taking him in for a second time, your eyes trailing down his chest and his abs before finding the patch of hair leading into his—

You swallowed thickly before meeting his gaze again. His eyes were dark, and his pupils dilated. The way his chest was rising and falling, and his jaw was clenching made it obvious he was trying to control himself.

Caught, you quickly dropped your hand and averted your eyes. You didn’t want him to see the effect his body had on you, even if you had no control over it.

"I'm not a hero," he finally whispered, and it wasn’t his words that surprised you, but his voice.

His voice was deep and raspy, and you couldn't stop the way the heat was pooling in the pit of your stomach or the way a strange feeling was taking over your mind. "But, I do care. A hell of a lot."

"Lo—"

"Don’t call me a hero for caring," his arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer to his body. "I care too much for worthless shit like that."

Your throat went dry. He was so warm, so very warm.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours. Your breathing quickened, your heartbeat hammering in your chest. Not a single coherent thought came to your mind. All you could think about was the way his breaths lined up with yours. The way his skin was brushing against yours. How he smelled so very distinctly Logan, and the way his lips looked so very inviting.

It was taken too far when your tongue slipped out and wetted your own lips, and Logan's eyes darted to the movement.

He stared for the longest time, seemingly frozen, his chest rising and falling heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He pulled away only an inch or two, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips.

What was he thinking? What was going through his head? You wanted to ask, but you were afraid to break the silence. Afraid to say something and make him come to his senses.

So, instead, you watched his face carefully, the way his lips parted, and his pupils dilated before his eyes found yours once more. Reading him was hard, but this… this was an expression you had seen before.

It was when Jean was flirting with Scott. The way she would lean close and give him that smile, and the way his cheeks would heat, and his eyes would dart down to her lips, then back up.

This was attraction.

And it was an expression you didn't think you would see on Logan. Not for you, at least.

You were one of his close friends, but did you play nice with each other? No. Did you get along? Yes, but those rare arguments the two of you had were heated, and sometimes they didn't make sense.

Did you tease him and mess with him? Definitely.

But never did you think that would lead to this.

Logan was attractive. He was built and tall, and he was very muscular. The definition of a man. His rough, hard features only made him more desirable. And his short temper and bad attitude just drew women to him like flies. They tend to lean towards the bad boys.

You didn’t. You picked the nice ones. The kind ones. The ones who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

You had been with a couple of guys since coming to Xavier's, and all of them had been so nice and so polite, but you did come to the conclusion that they were rather boring.

You couldn't remember the last time you were flustered by a man, or the last time your heart pounded so quickly, or the last time your breath caught in your throat.

But here was Logan, suddenly giving you those feelings and making your stomach do flips. The man who pretended to be the opposite of everything you wanted in a partner was the only one making your heart race.

You didn't know if that was good or bad.

This feeling, though, felt good. Felt so very good.

The way his arm was around your waist, his hand gripping your side, his body flush against yours, his lips just inches from your own, felt too good.

The heat from his skin felt good. The feeling of his warm breath was good. His scent was good. Everything was so, very good.

You were tired, and your eyelids felt heavy. The way your limbs felt like lead and how cold you felt was getting to you. You could feel your body starting to relax.

The only thing keeping you awake was Logan.

He was still so close, and his grip hadn’t loosened. But you couldn't help it when your eyelids started to slip closed, and your body went slack against him.

Logan's grip on you tightened, his arms holding your body tighter, his breath catching, before you felt the softest of touches on your forehead.

Kisses… Kisses were being peppered across your forehead, and it made you shiver.

His lips were so soft. His kisses were so gentle. It was so different from the hard exterior he held. It was like he was a completely different person.

So, you looked up and found yourself nose-to-nose with Logan. His eyes were staring right back into yours, and there was a soft look to his features.

The hand on your waist moved and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking the skin there.

"You need sleep," his voice was low and raspy. He was whispering as if speaking any louder would break the moment.

"That’s not what I need," you replied just as quietly, not breaking eye contact.

His brow furrowed. "What do ya need, darlin'?"

Words were hard to find and hard to put into sentences. You could’ve said a lot of things. Food, a shower, more blankets, a cup of tea, but the truth was, none of those things would satisfy you.

And the longer Logan's eyes were locked with yours, the more assured you were that what you needed wasn't any of those things.

So, instead of words, you moved your hand to gently grasp the chain of his dog tags. It held the same warmth that was emitting from his skin.

You didn’t know if he knew what you meant or if he understood what you were trying to say.

But the look in his eyes and the way his grip tightened gave you the feeling that he did.

It was silent, and tense. But, it was comfortable, and so, very nice.

You didn’t know if you had the strength to lift your body and kiss him. Or if he had the willpower to.

However, you didn’t need to make the decision. Because when he lifted your hair out of the way and buried his nose into the crook of your neck, his lips just barely hovering over your pulse, you were certain.

So, you did what any other girl would do in that situation.

Your hand tangled itself in his hair, and you pushed his face closer to your neck.

There was a growl, a deep, animalistic growl. One that shook your core from the heat in his voice, and the sound was almost enough to make you moan.

But you were surprised by the feeling of his lips pressing against your neck. You’d imagined with the way he was built, and with his personality, it would be rough and fast. But the way his lips gently caressed your neck, and the way his hands roamed your body made it seem like he wanted to take his time.

His mouth started trailing open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of your neck, his hot breath sending good shivers through your body. He sucked and nibbled, making you shiver, and the way his hand moved to caress your waist was gentle.

It was so unexpected, but it was so very welcome.

His lips traveled up your neck until they were just behind your ear, where he placed a small kiss before nuzzling his nose into your hair.

"Warm enough?"

It was the first thing he had said since your neck began being attacked, and it wasn’t a question that had an answer.

Because, while you were indeed warm, the way his hands were roaming your body and the way his lips were on you was causing an entirely different kind of heat.

And it was obvious that he was trying to get his point across. The way his hips were pressed against yours, and the way his arms were wrapped tightly around you was definitely not helping.

You knew he could smell it, your arousal. And he could most likely hear your racing heartbeat and feel the way your body trembled.

He was waiting for an answer. He wanted an answer.

"Logan," you breathed, your eyes slipping shut and your hands finding his chest. His skin was hot under your touch, and you couldn't help the way you trailed your fingers down his pecs and his abs.

He shook a bit, clearly still not used to your freezing touch, but his grip on you didn't loosen, and neither did the way his body was pressed against yours.

He was hard. Everywhere. His arms were strong, his chest was defined, and his legs were muscular. He was a brick wall, and you couldn't help but admire it.

You couldn't believe how attractive the man was.

Logan Howlett. The guy who was an asshole. The guy who would kill a man with his bare hands. The guy who was working on his temper. The guy who would accidentally pick a fight at the drop of a hat.

The guy who just saved you. The guy who cared about you.

Your hand slid down his stomach, and his muscles contracted under your touch. You were getting closer and closer until you hit the brown border that held up his jeans.

Your hand didn’t stay for long because a hand greeted you, wrapping around your wrist and stopping your movement.

Logan lifted his head from the crook of your neck, and his dark eyes stared into yours. There was a warning in his gaze, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

"Stop," his voice was low and raspy.

Your eyes searched his face, but there was nothing there. No emotion. Just a blank stare. "Why?"

"Don't."

You ignored him and tried to move your hand, but he tightened his grip, making it so you couldn’t move it.

"Logan," you whispered.

"I said stop."

You looked into his eyes and noticed something. His eyes were darker, his pupils were blown, and the look in his gaze was intense.

And it finally clicked.

He was turned on, and he was trying to keep himself in control.

And, you thought about it. If Logan were to lose control, what would happen? What would happen if the man who could slice a man open with his bare hand was in a situation like this, with his hormones raging and his self-control fading?

You didn't think much of it, but when the thought crossed your mind, a rush of arousal surged through you.

You wanted him. You wanted Logan Howlett. And it was a surprise.

He was going to say another word, but your lips captured him, and the hand on your wrist immediately released you.

It was like a switch was flipped. Logan growled into the kiss as you tugged him closer by his hair. The kiss was passionate, and the way his hand slipped under the damp shirt you were wearing was almost too much.

While his one hand was under your shirt, the other was against the bedsheet, his body leaning over you. He was hovering, but his lips never left yours.

Your shirt was gone in an instant, ripped from your body, and tossed to the floor. He paid no mind to the fact that he had ruined a perfectly good shirt, and the only thing he cared about was your bare skin.

Your lips parted, and his tongue darted into your mouth, tasting you. You could hardly keep up, his tongue dominating your mouth and his hands roaming your body.

"Lo," you managed to moan against his lips before his mouth was on yours again.

He didn't reply, but the way his fingers were trailing over the skin of your thighs was answer enough.

It was getting hot, too hot, and Logan knew that.

He pulled away from the kiss, and the string of saliva that connected the two of you broke and landed on your chest. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were dark.

Your hair was messy, and you were still wet. Your body was shaking, and goosebumps were littering your skin.

You were looking up at him, your eyes searching his face. Your cheeks were flushed, and your chest was rising and falling quickly.

He was staring at your lips, and the way they were swollen from the kiss, and his hands were trailing along the expanse of your stomach, before moving back down to the hem of your jeans.

Logan had undone them, and his fingers were playing with the band.

Your eyes didn't leave his face, but you were surprised when he lifted his eyes to meet yours.

He was waiting for something, and when you nodded, the next thing you knew, your pants were gone. The only thing that remained was his jacket, which you still had on from your lake experience.

It felt like a distant memory, one that was fuzzy and far off. It's odd how something as traumatic and horrifying as nearly dying could turn into something as heated and intimate as this.

Logan was watching your face carefully, his hand resting on your thigh, and his eyes were searching your expression. He was waiting for any indication of doubt.

The only thing indicated was desire.

He seemed satisfied with your reaction, and his hand slowly moved further and further up your thigh before the tips of his fingers reached the fabric of your panties.

His thumb was hooked under the band, and he pulled the black fabric aside, moving his other hand to unbutton his jeans.

He pulled the zipper down, and his hand slid into his boxers.

His head fell back with a sigh, his eyes closing as his hand moved along his length.

You watched, entranced, as he pleasured himself. You didn't realize you were biting your lip until his eyes were on yours, his eyebrows furrowed, and his breaths were shaky.

He let go of himself and leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours, as he struggled to hold himself together.

He was still waiting, and you couldn't figure out why. Why was he hesitating? Wasn't it obvious that you wanted him?

"Okay, Cowardly Lion, you can do this."

His head tilted to the side, and his nose bumped against yours. His breath fanned over your face, and his hand was gripping the side of the bed.

"Don’t call me that," his voice was gruff.

You grinned and moved your hand to the back of his neck, holding him in place. "Cowardly. Lion."

Logan growled, and you couldn't help the shiver that ran through your body. It wasn't scary. Not even close. It was hot and sexy, and it made you want him even more.

He was hovering over you, and his hand was on the side of the bed, his knuckles clenching the sheets. For a second, you believed he’d let his claws out and slice right through the mattress.

But again, only for a second.

He was watching you, his gaze locked on your face. He was staring, and his eyes were dark, and the way he was looking at you was intense.

You didn't say anything.

So, his hand moved.

And his fingers hooked under the band of your underwear, and he slowly, oh, so, slowly, pulled the fabric down.

He tossed the garment somewhere in the room, and his eyes trailed over your body.

He was staring at you, admiring your body, and the way the moonlight shone through the window made it all the better.

Your legs were spread, and you were completely naked. The only thing that was covering you was his leather jacket.

Logan's eyes moved back up your body, and he swallowed. "You’re pretty great when you’re wet."

A smirk made its way onto your lips, and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped you. "You should see me after I get out of the shower."

He growled, and the hand that was next to your head came up and grasped your chin, tilting your head back, and his mouth was on yours in an instant.

The kiss was heated, and it was a shock. Not a surprise, though. This was the original thought that went through your head. The way his hands were rough and the way his grip was tight.

This is how you expected him to be. Rough and fast. But this was not that.

This was so much better.

Your teeth clashed, and his tongue fought with yours, his body pushing you further into the bed.

You gasped into his mouth as his hand traveled back down to stroke himself a few more times before he was just outside your entrance.

You couldn't stop the whine that escaped you as his tip nudged against your core before his length started to push in.

His eyes slipped shut, and his hands caught him from falling. The bed creaked, and you could feel him trembling as he took a moment to collect himself.

When he had, there were only two things on your mind as the jolt of pain mixed with pleasure hit you.

One, you couldn't believe Logan had been holding out on you. This was amazing, and you could see yourself getting addicted to the way he made you feel.

And two, it was the way he had his jaw clenched, the way he was breathing, his hips pressed flush against yours, and the way his muscles were flexing.

He looked so good, and it was hard to focus on the fact that he was actually inside of you. His cigarette-stained breath fanned over your face, the way every time he moved slightly faster, he became more vulnerable and less guarded, the back of the throaty moans he made, the way his lips were swollen from the kissing and the biting.

All of it was a big turn-on.

His hands were gripping the bed, and his dog tags were bouncing off of his chest, hitting your skin with a cold metallic sound.

The way his hair hung in his face, and the way his eyes were dark, made him look incredibly sexy.

"Lo," you whimpered, and your nails scraped his shoulders, leaving red lines in their wake.

Of course, by the time he had reacted to the slight pain, they were already gone.

He leaned down, his arms wrapping around your body, and he held you close. He pressed his lips against your neck and sucked the sensitive skin.

It was quiet, except for the sounds of the bed creaking and the gasps and pants that slipped out every now and then. You weren’t very vocal, but that was only because you were more focused on how it felt.

And it felt so good.

It was a lot more enjoyable when it wasn’t painful, and you were more than happy that the pain had subsided and was now replaced with pure ecstasy.

He was big, bigger than you had originally expected. So, he had taken his time.

Well, not really. He had tried to, at least.

Logan had tried to hold out, but the way you had squeezed him and the way you had whimpered when he was halfway in had caused him to lose his grip on reality.

But he had tried to take his time. And that was what counted.

Your hands tangled in his hair and pulled his head closer, making him moan into your mouth.

He was moving faster, and he was losing his mind. Your lips were swollen, and the way your chest was rising and falling was amazing.

He was holding himself up, his arms flexing as his hips moved against yours, and the sound of your name falling from his lips in such a way was a sound you wanted to hear more often.

He was close. You could tell by the way his thrusts were becoming sloppy and the way he was gasping.

But you were, too.

It was the first time, the only time, you had ever experienced such an intense high. And it was a rush.

Your head fell back, and your fingers tightened in his hair as your orgasm ripped through your body. You were shaking, and your mouth opened in a silent scream as the intensity of it all hit you.

Logan followed soon after, his orgasm hitting him just as hard. His was more brutal towards you, though, as he full-on collapsed into your body, his entire weight pressing into you as he came.

It was an experience you didn't think you would ever forget. Especially when he accidentally unleaded his claws and sliced through the mattress.

"Ah, goddamn it," he sighed and slowly pulled out. He was still on top of you, but he had turned his head to the side to see the damage. "I'm not paying for this."

You were breathing heavily, and your hands were tangled in his hair, your body shaking from the aftershock.

He turned his head to look back at you, and his dark eyes studied your face.

You were a mess. You had bite marks along your neck and chest, your lips were swollen, your cheeks were flushed, and your chest was rising and falling rapidly.

Logan's eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips were parted. The way his hair was a mess, and the fact that his eyes were darker than usual made him look extremely attractive.

You couldn’t help but notice how completely out of breath he was and all the sweat and the heat radiating off his body.

He was hot, literally.

"You, uh," you swallowed and tried to keep your hands steady. "You want to take a dive in the lake?"

It took a few moments, but eventually your question had registered, and you have never heard this man laugh like he had right now. He completely lost it, and he was laughing.

And it was a deep laugh. One that could make someone feel safe. One that could make anyone fall in love with him.

His laughter died down, and he turned to look at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. "I think I'll pass."

"Oh," you breathed and bit your lip. "You don't know what you're missing."

Logan stared at you, and his hand moved from the bed to trail down your stomach. Blood was coating his knuckles from the five-second fight that had taken place when his claws had popped out, but he didn't seem to care.

You were staring at him, and the way his dark eyes were boring into yours was intimidating.

"How about," his hand slid down further, and the tips of his fingers touched your lower abdomen, "I take a dive in the shower with you instead? Can’t drown in the tub."

Your eyebrows were raised, "Am I that fragile that a simple shower will kill me?"

You were obviously joking; that soft banter had been something the two of you had always done, but there was also a hint of curiosity.

He sat up to look at you. His eyes were darker than before, and the way his hands were running along the expanse of your torso was sending shivers down your spine.

"Says the girl who slipped through ice," he leaned down, his arms caging you in, and his forehead was pressed against yours. "You really are—"

Crack.

Call it what you will: fate, destiny, bad timing, but there now, there was no way in hell he’d escape the expensive bill the motel would surely send.

The bed completely gave out.

It had taken a few seconds for it to register, the sudden drop and the loud noise. But, once you had, now it was your turn to laugh.

And boy, did you.

Your laughter filled the room, and your entire body shook. He started to blame it on the production of the bed, of course, but you knew deep down he couldn’t escape the big fat bill the motel owner was going to send.

He even got up to try to find another possible explanation, and as you pulled his jacket closer to cover yourself, you watched him try and fail to find one.

The smile never left your face, and when he turned to look at you, his dark eyes were studying your expression.

"You think this is funny?"

"Very," you grinned and leaned up on your elbows. "How about we go out for dinner tomorrow night, Edward?"

Logan's eyebrow raised, and he stared at you. You could see the visible disappointment on his face, and it was amusing.

"Alright, come on," he took hold of your arms, and pulled you out of the bed, jacket and all.

"Where are we going?" you asked and let him lead you out of the room. "The shower?"

"Yeah," he nodded, and led you into the bathroom, "I think it's time I teach you how to swim."

You grinned, "We have no hot water, remember?"

"Then, I’ll just have to make sure you don't get cold, won’t I?"

[madamemiz]

sad: falling out of a hyperfixation

tragic: watching your beloved friends and mutuals fall out of the hyperfixation while you're still in it

[alexandraisyes]

Starting 2025 Off With A Groomer Post

Hello tsams community. I can not escape this hell not matter how hard I try, it seems.

Mothy Main - Mothy Alt - Ikamigami

Because they can't just fucking stay dead I get to make this post. Thanks for bringing this up so I don't have to be the one to break the ice about it. (I meant to make this months ago but I got severe burn out from all the other groomers I've made awareness posts on).

Please reblog for safety and awareness.