#posting it mainly ... to have something to post

[seraph5]

Ok I'm about to say some oldy timey shit romanticising old school marketing and it's going to mainly be from a western perspective because that's what I experienced. There was a moment in marketing around the 90s/early 00s that was really special. We were coming off the consumerism boom of the 80s and people were less impressed with the straightforward product-penutbuttered-with-the-hard-sell approach so marketers had to get creative. Not that marketers had never been creative before but I feel like for a long time the majority of companies couldn't be bothered with the effort. So what happened was the start of a wave of marketing wherein the marketing itself offered value even seperate to the product. Tv commercials startled having recurring stories, not just in themes but actual short form narratives, physical marketing like posters had fun tricks to grab your attention, viral marketing that felt like treasure hunts was born, ads were occasionally so beautiful you would cut them out and pin them up. It was like a remote version of the upsell where you just got something fun and free for the hell of it. Ofc the hope is that you would then share it, buy the product etc but ultimately it was centering value for the consumer. Companies vied for our delight.

Then with the rise of the internet as not just an information hub but a social hub a new wave of marketing was born and it was truly the death of this carnival of delights. Execs didn't want to pay a ton of cash to delight and entertain when they could just shout at you from tiny low cost boxes on the page. There were absolutely some fun marketing stunts post the rise of the internet but since then it's not just been the ads but the relationship with the consumer that has changed.

Now, aside from the mountain of mindless drivel sometimes devoid of a sell at all, scarcely even bothering to be in conversation about the product, there is an insidious controlling element that has permeated the consumer market relationship. Companies don't care about providing value at all. They jam advertising down your throat, lock you into ill-fitting subscriptions that mean you don't even fully own what you've paid for, they trap consumers with dark pattern design (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dark_pattern) and they take away functionality they once offered for free then call it premium and sell it back to you.

Now I'm not saying some of these things never existed before in a much more analogue way, obviously companies never 'cared' about the consumer beyond the purchase they could get, but the complete abandonment of any effort at all is extremely depressing. The honestly hateful 'you'll take what I give you and like it fucker' vibe marketing has taken on is omnipresent.

Even now speaking as someone who works at a place where we are trying to provide value in our marketing beyond what was ever provided before, we are getting burried and hidden by the media platforms in favour of ai slop and creepy soulless ads.

Unfortunately I don't really have a solve for any of this so long as the internet continues to be colonized by companies intent on aggressively robbing you blind and telling you to thank them for that privilege. Just know that when you see fun packaging like this and wonder where it's gone now you know.

 I got a couple of movies from Netflix and they had these cool Halloween-themed mailers. Maybe I’m easily amused, but they’re kind of nifty!

[yuujispunches]

The things he doesn’t say ~ M.F.

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

Summary: Megumi doesn’t know how to deal with having a crush and his strategy of deny deny deny might just cost him everything he longs for when you overhear him talking with Yuki and Nobara.

CW (content warning): maybe some cursing but that’s it, this is mainly just fluff.

AN: I’m back! I finally finished my exams and I’m free so I’m back to writing. I’ll be going through the requests as soon as I can 🤍 English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’re any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

The late spring air buzzed with the hum of insects and the smell of sun-warmed concrete as training wrapped for the day. A warm breeze danced across the open field behind Tokyo Jujutsu High, rustling the sleeves of uniforms and the grass that sprouted between cracks in the stone tiles.

Megumi Fushiguro stood with his arms crossed, gaze locked across the yard.

You were training with Yuji, your laughter ringing out as you clumsily dodged one of his exaggerated mock punches. There was a smear of dirt across your cheek, sweat shining on your forehead, and your smile. God, your smile, every time he saw it, it was as if it caught the sunlight like a net.

Megumi couldn’t look away. Not that he wanted to stare. But it was like his eyes had a mind of their own like his heart was some stupid, traitorous thing that leaned toward you every time you got within ten feet of him. He didn’t even like most people. But you? You made him feel… soft. Stupid. A little terrified.

“Okay.” Nobara said behind him, voice sing-songy. “You’ve been watching her for like, ten minutes straight.”

Megumi frowned. “No, I haven’t.”

Yuji snorted, having appeared beside him at some point. “Bro, yes, you have. It’s getting creepy.”

“I was making sure she didn’t overdo it.” He shifted uncomfortably. “She sprained her wrist last week.”

“Aw, so you’re able to care about someone?” Nobara teased. “That’s cute.”

“It’s not- ” Megumi's tone sharpened. “I don’t have a thing for her, okay? Drop it.”

——————————————————————————

You had just stepped around the back of the toolshed to get a drink from the water tap, coming back toward the group when the words hit your ears.

"I don’t have a thing for her, okay? Drop it."

You froze.

Your heart stumbled in your chest, awkward and loud. You stayed back, hidden by the shed’s corner, not even daring to breathe.

“She’s just a classmate.” Megumi continued, his voice clipped and cold. “There’s nothing going on. You guys are imagining things.”

The air between them seemed to shift. Nobara muttered, “Wow. Harsh.”

Yuji laughed nervously. “Y/N’s cool, though. I mean, I’d get it if you did like her.”

“I don’t.” Megumi said again. And this time, it was more than just annoyed. It was sharp. Final. “She’s annoying sometimes, honestly. Always asking questions, always smiling like we’re not about to die on a mission. I don’t get it.”

You didn’t hear the rest.

Your hands had gone cold, water bottle clutched tight to keep them from shaking. The back of your throat burned as you slowly backed away, heart hammering.

“She’s annoying sometimes, honestly… I don’t get it.”

His words kept echoing in your head. It felt like someone had slapped you, hard.

——————————————————————————

That night, you didn’t come to dinner.

You weren’t mad, exactly. You didn’t think Megumi meant to hurt you, he probably thought he was protecting something, like he always did. That didn’t stop it from stinging like hell.

You sat in your dorm room, fingers curled loosely around a hot mug of tea you didn’t feel like drinking. Your phone buzzed a few times. Yuji, probably. Or Nobara. You ignored them all.

Across the courtyard, Megumi sat outside on the steps of the dorm, arms resting on his knees, gaze distant. Something felt off. You weren’t you tonight. You hadn’t looked at him once after training. Usually, you’d nudge him with your shoulder, say something quietly, something that made the tension in his chest ease.

Tonight, nothing.

He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. Or maybe he did. Maybe he’d just spent so long pretending it didn’t matter that he forgot how much it did.

——————————————————————————

The first time he noticed you was on a mission.

You weren’t like Nobara, loud and stylish and sharp-edged. You weren’t like Yuji, either, overwhelmingly bright, brimming with impossible optimism. You were quieter, not in a shy way but in a present way. Focused. Observant. You asked questions no one else asked. You noticed things.

During the mission, you’d pulled a cursed spirit off his blind spot without hesitation, taken a shallow gash to the ribs for it. Megumi remembered the way your hands shook, the blood blooming through your uniform and still, the only thing you said shocked him.

“I’m fine. You okay?” A concerned look on your face.

He’d looked at you like you were a different species.

Since then, something had shifted. And it scared the hell out of him.

——————————————————————————

The next day came with clouds heavy in the sky, the promise of rain clinging to the air.

You avoided him.

Not in an obvious way, there were still group training sessions, still shared missions but the warmth was gone. No small talk. No soft, thoughtful comments that made him feel seen. No casual touches or gentle teasing.

Megumi noticed.

It ate at him in quiet moments. During breaks, he’d glance over to find you talking with Yuji, laughing but never looking at him. When Nobara dragged you into town for shopping, you didn’t ask if he wanted to come.

And worst of all you’d stopped smiling at him.

One afternoon, he caught you in the courtyard alone, bandaging a scrape on your arm after training.

“You should disinfect that better.” He said, stepping up without thinking.

You looked up, then back down. “I’m fine.”

He hesitated. “You haven’t been talking to me.”

“I didn’t realize we talked much anyway.” You replied, tone even. Not cruel. Just… distant.

Megumi flinched inwardly. “Did I do something?”

You finally met his gaze. There was no accusation in your eyes just quiet resignation. “No. Not really. I just don’t want to bother you.”

That landed like a punch to the ribs.

He sat down beside you, legs crossed, staring at the grass. “You don’t bother me.”

“You said I was annoying.”

Silence.

You didn’t say where you’d heard it. You didn’t have to.

Megumi stared straight ahead. “That wasn’t… what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” You asked quietly, not looking at him. “Because I was starting to think we were friends. But maybe I read too much into it.”

Megumi’s throat closed up. He couldn’t say it. Not here. Not like this.

“I’m sorry.” He said instead.

You stood, brushing off your pants. “Don’t be. It’s my fault. I let myself think you cared.”

He looked up sharply, eyes wide. But you were already walking away, each step driving nails deeper into the floor of his chest.

——————————————————————————

Later that night, Megumi sat in the common room with Yuji and Nobara, both chattering about something or other while he stared at the floor.

��You okay, bro?” Yuji asked between bites of chips.

Megumi didn’t answer right away.

Nobara narrowed her eyes. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it?”

“I messed up.” Megumi said simply.

Yuji blinked. “Did you two fight?”

“No.” He exhaled through his nose. “But I lied. I said I didn’t care about her. And she heard it.”

Nobara grimaced. “Yeah, okay. That’s bad.”

“I didn’t want you two making a big deal out of it,” Megumi muttered.

“Dude, you made a big deal out of it.” Yuji pointed out. “You went all ice-prince ‘I don’t like her at all’ of course she’s hurt.”

Megumi scrubbed a hand over his face. “I thought if I pretended it wasn’t real, it wouldn’t hurt.”

Nobara crossed her arms. “And now?”

“Now it hurts worse.”

——————————————————————————

The clouds broke open just after you and Megumi were dispatched together on a joint mission outside Tokyo.

A cursed spirit had been stalking a neighborhood near Kyoto, an old manufacturing district turned residential. It wasn’t high-grade, likely a grade 2, maybe 1 but it was slippery and fast, and the higher-ups wanted it gone discreetly. Gojo had paired you and Megumi “You two are quiet and competent.” He said. “No property damage, please.”

You’d barely said a word to Megumi on the train. He hadn’t tried to start a conversation either. The air between you was heavy, like a storm about to break.

Now, trudging through the damp streets just after sunset, the rain soaked through your jackets, making your breath fog and your hands cold. Your cursed energy flickered outward, on alert.

“It’s close.” You murmured, scanning the alley ahead.

Megumi nodded, summoning Divine Dogs. “Split left. If you catch it, don’t engage alone.”

You nodded stiffly. “Copy.”

He hated this. Not the mission, he could handle the mission. He hated the way you moved around him like a stranger, your voice clipped, movements economical, eyes never quite meeting his.

He wanted to reach out. But every time he opened his mouth, the words died on his tongue.

——————————————————————————

The cursed spirit was stronger than expected.

It lunged from the shadows behind a warehouse, fast and wide, all teeth and claws and thick, bristling curses that slashed like wire through the air. You ducked under its first strike, slashing upward with your blade. It screeched, retreating, and you pursued.

Then, too late, you felt the shift.

A second spirit dropped from the roof behind you, small, but fast. Its claws raked your side before you could turn, searing pain flashing hot across your ribs.

You cried out. Megumi’s blood ran cold.

“Y/N!” He shouted, moving fast. Shadows burst outward, his wolves intercepting the small one before it could strike again.

He reached you in three heartbeats.

You staggered, one hand pressed to your side, blood seeping between your fingers. “I didn’t sense the second one.”

“You shouldn’t have been alone,” he snapped, eyes dark. “I told you not to engage- ”

“I had to.” You hissed. “It was going after a kid- ”

“Goddammit, Y/N.”

He didn’t mean to sound so furious. But fear twisted in his gut, ugly and choking.

He moved fast, summoning Nue to stall the remaining spirit as he caught you, half carrying you out of the danger zone. His grip was tight, protective, anchoring, and trembling just slightly.

You winced. “I can walk- ”

“Don’t argue with me right now.” He said, voice low.

He didn’t let go.

——————————————————————————

You sat against the wall of an abandoned convenience store, blood soaking your uniform. Megumi worked silently, cleaning the wound with water from his canteen and bandaging you as best he could.

You stared past him, jaw clenched. “If this is about me being annoying again, don’t bother.”

Megumi’s hands froze.

“What?”

“I get it.” You muttered, not meeting his eyes. “I smile too much. I ask too many questions. I’m a burden. I’m not as strong as you or Yuji. You don’t have to pretend.”

His voice was quiet. “You really think I feel that way?”

“I heard you, Megumi. That day. You didn’t just say you didn’t like me. You sounded like the idea of liking me was disgusting.”

Megumi sat back on his heels, breath unsteady. The rain had stopped, but thunder still rolled distantly in the sky.

He looked wrecked.

“I didn’t mean it.” He said finally. “I was trying to shut Yuji and Nobara up. They wouldn’t stop teasing me. I panicked.”

You stared at him, hollow. “And the part about me being annoying?”

He swallowed. “I was angry. Not at you. At myself. I’ve felt this way for months and I didn’t know what to do with it. So I turned it into something ugly so I wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Silence.

He looked down, ashamed. “You were never annoying. I lied.”

Your throat burned. “Why?”

“Because I like you so much it scares the hell out of me.” He said, finally meeting your eyes. “You make me feel like I’m not just a weapon. Like I’m allowed to be human. And I didn’t want to lose that.”

You stared at him.

“I thought if I kept it quiet, I could protect it. Protect you. But I ended up hurting you instead.”

Your voice cracked. “You really like me?”

His answer was immediate. “Yes. A lot.”

The silence between you changed. It wasn’t cold anymore. It buzzed warm and uncertain.

You exhaled shakily. “I thought I was just being stupid.”

“You’re not.” He said, leaning closer. “You’re not stupid. You’re brave. Kind. Smarter than me, half the time. You see people for who they are and you still smile like the world doesn’t deserve you.”

You blinked fast. “That was… a lot.”

He blushed furiously. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ve been holding it in.”

You reached for him without thinking, hand brushing his wrist. He stilled, then turned his hand under yours, fingers closing around yours.

Your voice was small. “I like you too, you know.”

Megumi let out a breath like he’d been drowning and finally found air.

“I know.” He said softly. “I just didn’t want to believe it. Thought maybe if I ignored it, I wouldn’t mess it up.”

You smiled weakly. “You kind of did mess it up.”

He nodded. “I’ll fix it.”

“How?”

“I’ll stop hiding.” He said. “I’ll be honest with you. From now on no more running away.”

You were quiet for a beat.

“Okay.” You said. “But that means telling Nobara.”

He groaned. “Please no.”

“She knows.”

“She’ll never shut up.”

“She deserves the satisfaction.”

He scowled. “You’re cruel.”

You smiled, softer now. “You like that about me.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached up gently, pushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was light, reverent. You leaned into it.

“You’re not allowed to lie again.” You whispered. “Not about how you feel.”

“Promise.” He said.

And when he leaned in, tentative but sure, and pressed his forehead to yours, you felt the shift not just in the air, but in the weight you’d both been carrying.

This time, it didn’t feel so heavy.

——————————————————————————

The next day, back at the dorms, Nobara cornered Megumi on the steps.

“So” She said with narrowed eyes. “Y/N looked very happy this morning.”

Megumi sighed. “Don’t start.”

Yuji leaned around the doorway. “Wait- wait. Did you finally tell her?!”

Megumi muttered. “Yes.”

Both Nobara and Yuji exploded with noise.

“I KNEW IT!”

“ABOUT TIME!”

“I GIVE IT THREE WEEKS BEFORE HE PANICS AGAIN!”

Megumi, for once, didn’t snap at them. He just shook his head and let the teasing roll off.

Because when he looked across the courtyard and saw you waiting, smiling that real, soft smile just for him and nothing else mattered.

Tags: @hawkwithsocks @pickledsoda @savagecatsuga @suna-yoshihara @grignardsreagent @noooo-onee

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

[hewinked]

you ever have fandom drama go down with literally all the big blogs for one fandom that you love so much, and then all the blogs you follow just start throwing tomato's at each other?

yeah thats pretty much me with the danny phantom x dc crossover tag argument thing rn

also im of the opinion that, this is kinda always how crossovers worked? you tag it with both fandoms it includes? and the tag thing is not that bad? or atleast ive had not that much trouble finding only solely danny phantom content

and i mean, danny phantom is an old fandom objectively, the only new content being some comic books which alot of people didnt read because they didnt wanna or couldnt spend money on it

it makes sense that even alot of old fans would get into dp x dc, and that because dc is such a big and active fandom in comparison, that a lot of dc fans would get into the crossovers, and become new danny phantom fans via the crossovers

but ik alot of people are arguing that they shouldnt be, because they think that dc fans have never even seen danny phantom because of small details they get wrong or mix up, which is like a whole nother "if youre in this fandom you have to know everything about the media or youre not a real fan" shaped problem that I dont care for at all

the truth is most of them probably are just going off of what they remember from their childhoods because ALOT of people watched danny phantom as a kid, and just havent had time to rewatch it fully, so yeah, theyre gonna not remember some things and have to fill in the blanks themselves or go off of what other fans say

and as far as im aware anyways, this isnt really just a dc and dp thing? Im in the miraculous ladybug fandom and fic wise alot of it is now danny phantom or dc crossovers, but ive heard no complaints and given no complaints (despite not liking them myself) because thats mainly on ao3 and you can just block it

the point im going to make is actually, that alot of the fandom on tumblr is reliant on ao3 in the first place, and like on ao3 this definitely isnt a problem, because you can block a tag easily and most people on ao3 know better then to not tag something that they have in a fic

thing is? people are used to that. it is considered heavily heavily impolite on ao3 to not tag a fandom or thing you have in the fic.

and most tumblr users are or started as ao3 users. its pretty much the same etiquette on here.

but somehow when you go on tumblr with specifically danny phantom fans? somehow people are offended by it?

thing is, same as on ao3, on tumblr you can block a tag and filter.

but lets say you are blocking that and still seeing dc crossover stuff like so many people are complaing

then isnt the problem logically that alot of these people just arent tagging the dc stuff properly then? because i imagine thats what you should be trying to block so.... why be mad that theyre tagging danny phantom when thats one of the correct tags to be using? so that anyone who wants to see crossovers plus regular content can?

like im just saying thats the logic i follow

and thats not me tryna say go and blame em for that either, im just saying youre kinda angry about something that its okay to be mad about, but you have put yourself in the wrong because your mad about the wrong thing anyways.

also even if youre mad about it, maybe stop bullying and critizing literally anyone who's writing dc and dp? like encouraging people to write what they like is the name of the game, you guys know that right?

you know you can just nicely comment without being passive aggressive or rude, and tell them that they should tag their posts a little better? and not take your anger out on them because they personally obviously dont sway the whole fandom by themselves? do you know that?

you also dont have to make big ol rant posts about how much you hate dp x dc writers for writing a crossover, that will hurt those writers feelings, and that you know will make all your followers mad at all those innocent writers also, right? you know that you don't have to and shouldn't be making posts like that right?

[ssentimentals]

Hii! Saw your post for the 1.8k! First of all, Congrats!!

Is it possible to make 5 and 7 angsty at first, later fluff? I picture jun or dino for these prompts, you can choose

hii, sweets! thank you so much 💜 i will go with dino on this one, mainly bc i can't imagine jun ever cursing :D thank you for requesting, hope you'll like it!

prompts: 'where the fuck have you been?!' & 'look, all i'm trying to tell you i- oh god, no, please don't cry'

your fingers shake as you take out your phone and the shaking grows worse when you can't turn it on. it dawns on you that it's probably been off for quite some time now and new wave of anxiety comes crashing down. people were probably been calling, god, dino probably called thousand times; why do you never take your charger with you? why do you never check the battery before going out? your heart squeezes uncomfortably in your chest as you stare dumbly at the black phone screen. the main point is to calm down. what did all these tiktokers say? right, regulated nervous system, big breaths, no anxiety. easy to say, impossible to do when your lungs want to collapse at this very same second. the ringing in your ears is so loud, you don't even hear nearing footsteps, nor do you react at your name being shouted four times. only when pair of strong arms grab you by the shoulders and twist you around, only then ringing stops.

'where the fuck have you been?!' dino's shout is loud enough to make you flinch. his eyes are wide and angry, his breathing is erratic like he ran all the way to you. by the sweat on his forehead you realize that he probably did. 'why aren't you answering my calls?!'

it paralyzes you, this anger. rationally you know that dino is mor worried than he is angry, but rationality took a step back when anxiety decided to take the reins. dino practically radiates anger as his gaze sweeps by your body once, twice - checking for any injuries. his mouth is moving, but you can't hear a thing; you close your eyes trying to come back to reality. you focus on dino's hands - warm and gentle despite him being angry, the way they caress your shoulders, how they lovingly hold your wrists. you focus on dino's voice - anger already bled out from it, leaving only worry behind.

'look, all i'm trying to tell you i- oh god, no, please don't cry,' his arms are suddenly on your waist, pulling you close until your face is tucked securely on his neck.

you don't even notice that you started crying - the way tears fill up your eyes is almost surprising. but when you notice it you can't stop; it's like something broke inside of you and all the tension finds it's way out in form of tears. dino holds you through your weeping with an unwavering strength, his grip on you never once went lax. his hands roaming your back gently served like a reminder that he is here, with you. 'it's alright, let it out, i'm sorry, baby, i'm here' whispered in your ear were like soothing balm to your heart.

'good?' he asks, when you calmed down. he places small kiss on top of your head. 'you with me, baby?'

'y-yeah.' you breathe out, but still prefer to hide your face, not looking up. 'i'm sor-'

'no,' he interrupts forcefully, tightening his grip on you. 'don't say it. i am sorry for checking, for not finding you sooner. and sorry for scaring you with my shouting, i was looking for you for hours and your turned off phone really made me-' he pauses, taking a deep breath. 'made me think of- very bad. things. and i'd rather die than let something happen to you, so. i'm sorry baby. i love you, you're feeling better?'

you do and don't at the same time. you're exhausted mentally, but having dino around, hearing dino tell you that he loves you is the best feeling in the world. but you still want to crash out in your bed, preferrably with his arms wrapped around you. 'can we go home?' you ask in a small voice, finally looking up.

the amount of love in dino's eyes makes your heart sing. he looks at you like if you asked for the moon right now, he'd get it. 'of course we can, baby,' he whispers, smiling at you gently. 'of course.'

a/n: wrote this and fell into dino rabbit hole :') hopefully you liked it, let me know! - nini

my other seventeen works are here

request your own here

[artinventor]

I watched the show only recently and on my own, and only stated my reactions to what has been shown to me on screen, I know perfectly well the difference in headcanon and canon.

Dean didn’t say he didn’t feel the same, if he did that would’ve made it unrequited. They very much left it ambiguous for the viewer to decide by having him only say “don’t do this” and not speaking about it afterward. I’ve watched enough things to know when the writers want something to be clear, they could’ve easily had a scene where Dean tells Sam what happened and how he felt about it, but they didn’t. this is basic media literacy. If you want to interpret it as unrequited then go ahead, I’m not “forcing” anything on anyone I’m just stating my own opinion that you could easily ignore.

My post was mainly about everything else before the confession scene, you can’t exclude everything that came before. That’s what I thought is the main thing to look at when coming up with a conclusion about how Dean feels. They decided last minute to make Cas gay but doing so makes you look back at everything about their relationship, which includes everything Dean has done. Cas was not written to be pining after Dean while Dean doesn’t do anything back. In fact. In the very same season where they know they were writing Cas to be gay, they had Dean be the one to have a breakdown about him being gone in purgatory only 9 episodes before.

Nothing about how their relationship was written in the 12 years since Castiel was introduced has been one-sided. And if it was, the one-sided came from Dean. That was my point. Dean actually has way more intense emotional arcs than Cas does because Castiel has many periods of being dead or going off on his own (which Dean has been shown to hate, and all of that was clear as day on the show, nothing that I headcanoned). So that’s what led me to my own interpretation.

Both characters were written to be “straight” with the gay part to only be something ambiguous or under the surface because they knew it had a big fanbase, but confirming Cas to be gay changes everything. Backtracking on one previously written straight character makes one think about the other one that is linked to him, especially if he was shown to do everything the gay character has done and even more. That’s my whole point here, if it wasn’t clear enough.

I’m sorry but you can’t just officially confirm one half of destiel and then make it seem like its ambiguous for the other,,, dean had a way bigger list of gay crimes than cas like they were BOTH insane about each other and thats how the ship came to be what it is. like I actually thought dean was way more obvious than cas was. You can’t backtrack on only one of them and be like aha he was gay the whole time! And not have me assume the same for the other, like this confession makes you look back at the relationship in its entirety

[loganficsonly]

an independent woman

˚₊‧⁺˖✮ ch 5: slipping away ✮ ˖⁺‧₊˚

worst!logan x fem!reader, 5.3k (the longest yet!)

SUMMARY: As Logan learns to live instead of survive, he finds himself in the extremely dangerous position of sharing an apartment with you—Wade's friend. Extremely dangerous because Lord knows he can't keep his feelings a secret forever... not when your room is five steps away from his.

SERIES WARNINGS/TAGS: english is not my native language, no use of y/n, reader is a working adult (mid-late 20s) with a slightly written out personality, friends to roommates to lovers, slow burn, secret crushes, mentions of alcoholism and AA

CHAPTER WARNINGS/TAGS: 18+ MDNI!!!, masturbation, ANGST, hurt no comfort, unresolved sexual tension, a ton of negative self-talk, past trauma, death (imaginatory), just lots and lots of feelings

AUTHOR'S NOTE: gonna make this a/n a bit longer than usual:

first, a huge shoutout to @theworstwolvie who has been so gracious with her time and feedback. c, your comments on the chapters so far have been a great source of motivation and joy for me, and the fact that you enjoyed reading this one before i posted it is SUCH a relief for me—mainly because of how deep i had to dig for this chapter. THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU <3

second, i haven't the faintest personal experience with alcoholism and AA, and so i resort to reading things online to understand what it's like for the little bits of it that this series contains. i stumbled upon this blog post while writing this chapter, and i just want to share it with you for how honest it is. i hope the writer is living her best life right now!!!

this chapter took a lot out of me to write (i'm bruised in many invisible places), i hope you enjoy it.

Silver and bronze.

One heavy, rectangular slab each, about as long as a remote control. Clean cut. The metallic ingots sit quietly on the shelf of the living room, plain if not for the engraving of the name of your workplace and the accolade you received.

Reflected within their monolithic shine are bursts of animated colors from the television light, dotted with rambunctious laughter that settles down into mutters of concentrated small talk.

Yukio brought her Nintendo Switch and they’re playing a party game while you watch, sitting on the floor in front of the couch. Wade, Peter, Dopinder, and Negasonic Teenage Warhead—Ellie now, to most of you—are trying to “cook a cube of steak on all sides”, per the instructions of the game.

Vanessa’s behind you, her hair dipping down as she leans to giggle near your ear. The four players wrestle visibly with the controllers, moving it like they would a frying pan.

“They look like they’re jerkin’ off the air,” she covers her mouth, and you do too, biting back a grin because you see it.

When Wade first floated the idea of celebrating your win, you said no immediately.

It’s excessive—it was a team win, not your own. You’ve allowed yourself to feel proud of your achievements, specifically on the night of the award ceremony, which was almost two weeks ago. Life has gone on since then. Even at work.  

But Wade begged and pleaded.

“I promise it’s just for the first five minutes, honeybee. The rest of the night is gonna be us hanging out. Pretty please?”

Of course you couldn’t say no to that. So you relented. 

“We’re doing it at your place, though,” your ex-neighbor grinned, “a proper housewarming is long overdue.”

And Wade kept his word: nice things were said about you over toasts with raised Solo Cups, earnest despite your friends overtly not understanding what it is you do for work. After that, takeout boxes were drained dry, and Yukio asked if people were in the mood for games.

You’re watching the chosen form of entertainment play out when you feel it. A pang of loneliness, just a sliver of it, as soft as a petal landing on your hair.

Logan’s not here.

Eyes flit to the kitchen—he’s there, doing dishes. Slipping away temporarily in a way that’s familiar to you. Something in you relaxes.

Before you know it, you’re up on your feet, approaching him.

It’s been like this lately. You do your best to control yourself, to be self-aware—maybe a little too aware—in maintaining an appropriate distance with the best roommate you could as for, but you still can’t stay away.

You always look for him first when you enter a crowded room. Seek the meaning between the delicate lines that appear between his eyebrows when he tastes the food you make. Focus on the stir of his back muscles against flannel when he moves around the house. 

The moon probably feels the same way orbiting around Earth, you think. What pulls you to him is stronger than celestial gravity. 

A defeated part of you has long excused your physical attraction towards him. He is an attractive person, the internal voice reasons, nothing wrong with eating the eye candy. It’s an insult not to.

And you agree. You haven’t dreamed of him since, but once is enough. All it takes is one dream and suddenly he’s haunting all of your waking hours like a personal vendetta against you. 

He makes himself hard to ignore, whether he realizes or not. Always with the white tank tops and sweatpants. Biceps out. With any other person, you’d simply be fascinated at that level of fitness on a human body, but with him? Your mind wanders the way a child would in an amusement park. 

How are you supposed to function normally when the source of your maladaptive daydreams live five feet away from your door?

Can he blame you for slipping a hand under the blanket late at night, chasing subconscious sensations that felt so real to you? Would he despise you for pretending your fingers were his own, for lying to yourself—they’re his—the way you dreamed of? 

If he knew you gave yourself to him in secret, what would he do?

You have half a mind to think he notices—you were never the best pretender, and he’s lived with you long enough to get a bead on you. Stares poorly concealed. His every movement demands you to look: his fingers gripping a glass, how his eyes seem to change color under sunlight, the stretch of cotton over his undeniably sculpted chest… which come to think of, you still haven’t seen bare, to Wade’s surprise.

The worst part of this is that it’s not just his body. It’s more than that. More than eyes, hands, and his larger-than-life frame. 

It’s the way he looks at you when you come home from work and wordlessly take a tub of ice cream from the freezer. The way his fingers brush against yours when you reach for the popcorn bowl at the same time. And how he hugs you, warm and binding. You keep that memory filed away in a precious stack, that night he told you about his first AA meeting.

God, you miss his arms around yours. When can he hold you again?

Would he, if he knew the things you did while thinking of him?

Wade’s voice echoes in your head.

You’re really not gonna make a move on him, honeybee? Do you actually not like him?

You reply in your head. I think I’m past liking him, Wade. 

You know because alongside the dirty delusions about the rumble of his voice, you’ve started fantasizing about other things.

Things like telling him how you feel.

How it would happen—perhaps after a particularly charged movie night, or right before the mundanity of what to order for dinner. The kind of words you’d pick for him are hard to imagine, impossible to form with your mouth.

Language couldn’t contain the convolution that floods your lungs like flowers.

I want to be more than just friends. Do you? 

The way you’d cut your heart out from your chest and serve it to him on a silver plate, just to show him the way it beats. Messy and erratic when he’s around. You think it’s alright if he sees all of it, even the parts that you swear to hell and heaven you wouldn’t show anyone.

Your voice would be fraught with weakness because god knows you’re never good at declaring what you want.

And it stops short there, the fantasy.

You don’t allow yourself to think about what happens next. Whether he’ll pull you into a kiss that takes your breath away or shoot you an apologetic look like he spilled coffee on a white shirt. If the nosedive ends up in the cool waters of an aquamarine swimming pool, or broken bones on a pavement.

That line of thinking is forbidden. You know how dangerous it gets, how the less-kind voices whisper. They’ve already started, in the nooks and crannies of your idle mind.

He’s nice to you because he doesn’t see you that way.

If you tell him, you’ll make him uncomfortable in the apartment he calls home. Don’t be selfish.

He sees through you. How could he possibly want that?

So the daydreams end abruptly, a third act with no resolution other than the lucidity of a single thought. 

You just don’t want him to leave.

And if that means secretly surviving the stormy and turbulent, you’d do it. Day, after day, after day.

“I’d ask you to stop, but I’d be a hypocrite.”

The words tumble out of you quietly, standing by the sink near him. The party goes on, Vanessa’s and Wade’s laugh cutting through the noise.

He looks at you and does that huff—the one that’s not quite a chuckle, but just enough as an amused response.

“Caught me.”

“You don’t like the video game?” There’s a tinge of concern that weaves through the syllables. It’s getting rather loud and you don’t want him to feel bothered. 

“’s fine,” he replies, wiping his hands dry after putting away the last dish, “just not good at it, ’s all.” 

“You were great at the rowing one,” you smile, already replaying the fresh memory in your head.

It was rather miraculous that he didn’t swat away the offer to play in the first place. Maybe it was his soft spot for Yukio that did him in. He took the controller without a word and stared so seriously at the screen as if faced with an actual mission.

You schooled your giddy face as you watched him, stiff hand mimicking the rowing motion. Then he brought the team to victory and you were the first to cheer.

After nearly two months—god, where’d the time go?—Logan is still full of surprises, you decide. 

He shoots you a playful look, one that says I know you were looking. One that’s easy to miss, but his face already became a fluent language to you.

The Super Mario Party-induced bedlam continues to resonate mere feet away, and yet the kitchen feels like it’s just for the two of you, almost enclosed in a different reality.

You watch as he looks at you. Gentle, phantom strokes across your face. 

It’s moments like these that make you fall into that labyrinth. The maze that lies past your fantasies. It traps you into thinking that maybe, just maybe, he feels it too. Your heart aches with feelings that have no way out.

Logan opens his mouth then.

“And why are you escaping?”

You swallow, side-stepping to get to the fridge. I can’t, you answer in your head, not from you.

“I’m not. Just getting soda.”

The lightness in your voice had to be forced through the thickened air.

Can he tell? The same way you can tell what his grunts mean, if the frown on his face is one of upset or confusion, how he likes his coffee?

He watches as you cradle two big bottles of diet Pepsi, one in each arm. You try to ignore the way your spine tingles, reacting to the heat of his eyes on you.

You look at him one last time before passing him by, barely managing a smile on your lips.

He watches you walk away and digs a hand into the pocket of his jeans.

He feels it. An aluminum medallion.   

Light, the size of a poker chip, he reckons. With a swipe of a thumb he grazes its surface, busy with embossed letters, but larger words are pressed at the center. “1 MONTH”. Buried deep like a secret he didn’t mean to keep.

Windswept with the passage of time, he forgot about it.

There’s already a buzz in the air when he enters the room in the library.

Something much bigger is underway. Something he isn’t used to, much to his dismay.

It feels like the sky drops when the question does.

“Anyone here have thirty days?”

A sudden silence takes over. His head is anything but. Strange that he is so doubtful, as if he hasn’t been counting each day religiously.

He has thirty-five. Should he raise his hand? 

No, not yet. Maybe someone else hit theirs today—they should get to raise their hand first, not him, not when he feels like he hasn’t actually done anything real to get here—

Somebody does raise their hand.

Brent, he recalls. Young, a little younger than you, wearing baggy clothes and a little cowlick on his dirty blonde hair. He has a difficult look on his face as he starts to speak. The raised hand falls awkwardly back onto his lap, and then something in his eyes shines. Quiet. Steady.

“I’m Brent. I’m an alcoholic and I’m thirty days sober today.”

Pin-drop silence for a split second before the room erupts into cheers. People are clapping. Some of them get up from their chairs to embrace Brent in congratulations. The chairperson walks up to him, giving him the chip. The metal gleams red in the warm light.

What is more often than not an appropriately somber meeting, reserved in the first few minutes, dissolves into lightness and warmth. Like the shackles around each of their ankles are gone, just for the moment. Freedom in knowing that someone here—Brent—got to today, and that is enough for someone else in the room to get through their first 24 hours.  

The shift in the air seems to be enough to affect him, too. The voices in his head, the recitation of names that chant as soon as the memories creep—Scott, Jean, Rogue, Storm, Charles…—lack their bite of guilt and shame. He doesn’t feel like drowning, not like he used to. Images behind his eyelids flash, not of charred corpses and bloodied faces. Not today.

Today they smile, and he remembers fragments of his days with them, as beautiful as painted pictures.

The same image that made him cry for the first time in years.

In this room, with other faces who have gone through so much, regret doesn’t echo as loud. If his friends—no, his family—were here…

…they’d be proud of him too. He can’t lie to himself out of that fact.

He doesn’t know how, doesn’t know a part of him still remembers after countless cries since the day he lost them. But he does—hear their voice, see their smile, as if it were yesterday.

Jean and Rogue would hug him, their heads tucked in his chest and neck. Storm would, too, with a wide smile.

And Slim? Slim would be quiet for a while, gaze unreadable from behind the red visor, before finally circling an arm around his shoulder. 

Charles would be the only one with words. The warmth in those bright eyes could bring tears to his own.

We’re so proud of you, Logan.

That’s what he would say.

So a minute later, Logan swallows the lump in his throat and raises his hand.

He strokes the cool metal inside his pocket. He should tell Wade. Tell Laura.

Tell you.

He watches the living room from his spot at the island, trying to be present.

It’s your and Laura’s turn on the console. Somewhere along the way it turned into a fighting game, apparently. He can hear the banter, Laura mercilessly barraging you with attacks as a response to your playful goading.

When the killing blow plays in slow motion, you let out the loosest laugh he’s heard in a while, a hand running through your hair. Laura shakes your shoulders playfully, half-heartedly consoling you with a “of course I win, we play this at the dorms all the time”.

You sigh, the same sound that he usually hears after watching a great movie together. Entertained. Grateful. 

And then you turn to look at him, a bright smile on your face.

Did you see that? the pull of your lips seems to ask.

His heart rends in two at the sight.

This is what made him forget.

You. The greatest thing to stir up his emotions that drowned in a tar-like ocean of sin. 

Things are deceptively easy with you. A couple of conversations got you past that clumsy hump that comes with meeting a mutual friend, and after that, the road’s been highway-clear. The two of you coast like you know the way, like you’ve known each other for a while. 

Each interaction with you is a four-leaf clover, a smooth pebble, a scallop seashell—beautiful, natural little gifts that help convince him he was okay. That he no longer has to fight the world or himself, at least for the time being.

That he’s allowed to rest. 

Except he can’t.

Because in the past week, June has forced her temperature up a notch, and it has been nothing less than hellish torment. Suddenly your shorts become shorter, your t-shirts smaller, until they eventually turn into tank tops.

It’s not that he blames you for seducing him through the way you dress—you could wear a potato sack and he’d still want you—it’s his fault. He was the one who crossed that line, that night in the shower, thinking of you like that despite trying so hard not to.

You exist, blissfully unaware of his transgressions, and he’s tempted.

His eyes can’t help but hunger and he feels like a nasty animal, preying on you with his gaze while you’re around the house, a place where you feel safe.

Jaw clenching at your exposed legs as you walk around from one room to another. Hands balling into fists at the glimpse of your waist when you reach for the top shelf. Mouth salivating as you move your hair, exposing the nape of your neck.

That part of you should be so innocent, but the curve, your skin… it reminds him of the dress you wore.

It didn’t help that he bumped into you a few days ago, fresh out of the shower. You gasped when you collided into his chest and he had to put a hand on your waist to hold you steady, except he didn’t realize the only thing covering you was a flimsy blue towel.

Skin damp, smelling like a concoction of fragrances that made him want to take a bite out of you.

“Oh my god, sorry,” you breathed, escaping to your room without meeting his eyes. The door closed, and he was left alone in the hallway, accompanied only by his heart beating like it was begging to be let out of its enclosure.

It also didn’t help that he came home from work early yesterday, only to hear a buzzing sound. Too loud to be electricity. Faint and barely there, but more than enough for his enhanced hearing to pick up.

Above it, a sigh. Your voice. So soft he thought he imagined it.

Then a muffled whimper, and he knew it was real, because it was better than anything he could dream of.

His nerves jolted with hyper-awareness as soon as he registered what was happening. He could feel his body react as if it responded to yours, blood pumping south, his pants tightening.

A shaky exhale. You sounded so good, too lost to have heard him close the front door, but not at all loud, like you’re still trying to hold yourself back in case someone heard. Have you been sneaking around like this, taking advantage of the times he was away, trying to hide this from him? 

What if you thought about him when you touched yourself?

Fuck, he couldn’t believe that’s where his mind went. It was too late. Once he started picturing you picturing him, he felt dirty, but it wasn’t enough to make him stop.  

So yes, nothing helped. Certainly not you. You made it worse.

Made him picture you in your bed in a state of undress just shy of total nakedness, legs tangled between crumpled sheets, pressing a little vibrator against your clit while you slip your fingers into your folds. Made him want to break down your bedroom door and show you how he’d make you lose your mind instead of relying on that godforsaken toy.

Made him yearn.

He locked himself in his bedroom that day, hand around his cock, and thought about more than just the arch of your back when he sinks into you. Timing his strokes with your quiet gasps—perhaps hushed for human hearing, but more than enough for him—like he wanted to believe he was there with you, causing your downfall. 

A deeper need hummed incessantly through him. He should be startled at its revelation, but instead, he found it perfectly familiar. Maybe he’d thought of this from the very start.

Your face, wrecked with pleasure, cheeks flushed as you gasp up at him.

Logan, please, more.

He’d give you anything you asked for, drive deeper with the singular purpose of carving his soul into your very being. He’d leave a mark neither you or time can erase. You’d moan, lost in him, but your eyes would lock with his as you whisper, stuttered in between thrusts:

I love you—love you so much—

He came. Harder than any of the times he’s touched himself while thinking of you. Copious amounts of him spilled in his hand, on his stomach, forcing him to hold back a loud groan.

It felt wrong, his wayward mind twisting your voice to say those three words to him. He didn’t just cross a line this time, he violated it. 

What have you done to him? He thought he’d be content just living. The universe gave him a chance at redemption in the shape of a man in red tights, and as if that wasn’t crazy enough, he ended up with the cleanest slate he could get: a life in a different timeline with his friends and his daughter.  

But here he is, blood boiling with affection that laces his veins—for you. The prettiest, softest, kindest thing he’s ever seen, the person who stubbornly insists to be useful when you only need to exist for him to fall into that wretched feeling he hasn’t felt in a century.

You’ve turned him into a monster of greed, because now, living is no longer enough.

He wants you, wants to pull that laugh out of you, wants to make his shoulders comfortable enough for you to rest your head on, wants to spend a lazy morning in bed with you, cradling your face in his hands and showering kisses on your eyelids—   

“Logan? Do you wanna play?”

Hazel eyes snap back to reality at the sound of your voice.

The entire living room is looking at him. Laura and Wade look suspicious, while you still have that blameless smile on your face, holding your controller out as if it’s for him to take. 

Thoughts usually cease to exist when you look at him like that, beaming, but tonight it’s different.

Tonight he feels like he’s defiled you without having laid a hand on you, and the thoughts ring louder than ever, taking the shape of a voice he didn’t think he’d hear again.

Cassandra Nova’s.

There’s a cruel lilt to her voice, the same one he heard in the Void. That happened a lifetime ago, but it doesn’t echo—smooth and unmistakable. She’s still in there, in his head.

One good thing enters your life and you can’t keep your paws off her. Desperate pup.

You should see how you slobber all over her. A blind person could tell. I think she can, too. 

You think she’s going to kick you out? I think she’s too polite for that. She’d pretend everything was fine. That sounds like her, doesn’t it?

It feels like her grimy fingers are sinking into his brain again. As if they never even left.

He tries to shake it off, the sensation of nails scratching into the recesses of his brain. 

But oh, boy, when she finds out… a cold chuckle, give her two weeks and she’ll tell you she needs to move out for some bullshit reason, completely unrelated to you. Because she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. Never. She’s too nice, isn’t she?

The sensation sucks the air out of his lungs, an out-of-season chill up his spine.

She’s only nice to you because she feels sorry for you.

For a split second, he sees your face in the rubble. Bloodied in pallor, eyes blank.

Dead.

Don’t get too close, Wolvie. You know what happens when you get too close.

Fear.

How could he forget?

Has hitting thirty days of sobriety got him cocky, got him thinking he’s worth more than he really is?

What was he thinking, planning on showing a fucking coin to you?

It doesn’t change a thing. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s killed, spilled blood that could fill up a river. Pretending like his moral ledger is not in the red, like he no longer has enemies, debt-free, all set for a quiet life? What the fuck is he doing, playing house with a woman who has her entire life ahead of her? 

You’re probably doing this out of pity, anyway, the same pity that moves little girls to their core when they see stray cats stuck in the rain. The kind that can’t stand seeing someone cold and alone, unaware of the diseases he’ll bring. The teeth. The claws.     

He jumped timelines. Who’s to say others can’t, if they want to hunt him down so desperately? And god knows they’re out there, he just doesn’t know when they’re going to come for him.

If he’s sure of anything, it’s that his past always comes back to haunt him. Always.

And that you deserve better.

“Logan? Do you wanna play?”

He doesn’t answer your question. Grunts, footsteps padding across the room until he’s situated at the furthest corner away from you.

Doesn’t even look at you.

He’s quiet that way for the rest of the night, but only to you. You’ve spent most of your life reading rooms and sensing situations—you’re fairly certain of your assessment.

He’s upset.

About what, you don’t know. Your mind jumps to the conclusion it always does. Could he be mad at you?

Something heavy and invisible begins to make itself known in your gut. He’s only a little subdued, the way someone would after a long day at work. Afflicted with a kind of tiredness that his healing factor can’t fix.

Aside from that, he seems normal. Would be, to the average person. He even exchanged a few words with Ellie. Something about Japan. Yukio smiles, an easygoing bundle of joy next to her girlfriend.

You’re in a conversation with Dopinder—if you can call it a conversation, because it’s mostly him speaking at this point. His words are lost to you as you leave the asking of follow-up questions to Peter, while you’re left retracing steps and things said to Logan, in case something landed the way you didn’t intend it to, trying not to look over at him every three seconds.

You fail.

Glancing at him, you see him already staring at you back.

What do his eyes say? In that instant, you forget how to speak their language. 

He looks away.

Suddenly it’s cold.

There’s the taste of bile in your mouth.

“Hey… you okay?”

He’s on the couch, a faraway look on his place. You step closer, gathering the guts to sit next to him—not afraid of him lashing out, but the possibility of him not wanting you there. 

He nods, unmoving even as your weight sinks on the soft surface.

You’re so used to his presence, especially here in the living room. A sacred place where the two of you are free to blend into each other. Movie nights, easy laughter on your part and a snort or two from him. Assembling a store-bought shelf together on the floor, plywood parts surrounding you in a circle like it was actually a private little bubble—you and him against the world. Having dinner with him and Laura, talking shit about work, windows open, music in the background…   

Now, there’s a wall. The air is thick in a way that suggests a coil being snapped, and not at all in the way you would like. Your skin tells you someone is getting hurt.

And you know who is.

“I was—”

“Did you wanna—”

The two of you begin speaking, only to stop at the same time. On another occasion, you’d laugh. Not this time.

“You first,” you look expectantly at him.

He wipes his nose once, leaning forward to rest both elbows on his knees. Doesn’t look at you when he speaks, his gaze glued to the black TV screen ahead despite you watching his every move. 

There’s a prolonged silence before he finally speaks.

“I was thinkin’ of movin’ out.”

He turns his head to finally look at you.

You wonder what he sees on your face, because you don’t know what emotions are running through you right now.

Surprise, because you aren’t sure what to expect, but it definitely isn’t that. Doubt, because this whole thing is set up like a prank, except he won’t joke about this. Logan is straightforward, not needlessly cruel.

Most of all, you feel confused.

Did you get the signals mixed somewhere along the way?

The world sinks slowly beneath your feet, like your reality has been a poorly constructed sandcastle all along. Feet slipping, grains parting as you drop further downwards.

Maybe he wasn’t as comfortable as you thought he was, living with you. Maybe he didn’t like having to help you wrestle with wrenches and bolts. Maybe he only approved of the fried rice you made, and that asking him to taste test your other dishes got him annoyed. Did he really like the fried rice, or was he just trying to make you feel better about cooking?

Maybe you misread his sharing past stories as a sign of openness.

Maybe in showing him pieces of yourself you'd never shown anyone else, you created pressure instead of safety.

Maybe you hovered too close. Pushed too far.

You hear a voice from the past. Nameless, faceless, an amalgam of a few persons you no longer keep around.

You need to lay off. You’re a bit much.

God, you know you get things wrong sometimes, but this? You feel sick, the ice-cold realization submerging you.

What if you projected so much of your infatuation towards him that your rose-tinted glasses made you blind? What if, this entire time, you didn’t see him at all?  

You’re the one to break eye contact, looking down at your lap. From your periphery, you can see his hands tightening around his knees like he’s holding something back.

He continues to speak, voice measured, slightly apologetic.

“Was thinkin’ I needed privacy after all, now that I can actually afford it,” he rasps.

“Space. Just for myself. Less awkward if I… have some company over.”

Something in you cracks.

You catch yourself just before breaking in the only way you can.

He watches as you look up at him, a smile on your face that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I understand. I appreciate you telling me in advance,” you reply, voice level. “Do you, um, know when you’re gonna move? I need time to find a new roommate.”

“Not sure, Wade and I got this mission that’ll last for a while. I’ll look around after.”

You nod. It’s quiet for a while.

“I’ll help you look, then.”

He nods this time, voice quiet.

“Thanks.”

You get up.

“Shower’s all yours. Good night, Logan.”

“...Night.”

He watches as you turn, disappearing down the hallway, your bedroom door clicking shut.

Hands clench around the fabric of his pants so tight, his knuckles turn white. He exhales, but there’s no relief. Instead, the pain intensifies, jagged wires constricting his chest and digging into his skin. 

Fuck, he doesn’t know why he said that. That part about company, as if you didn’t already have him wrapped around your finger, as if you hadn’t been the best person to be around, as if he wanted someone else. 

Felt like cutting his tongue off the moment the words escaped him. He hates it, he fucking hates it.

Hates the look on your face, trying to be calm and considerate of him. You didn’t even ask why and he lied to you, only to watch you mask the hurt like he couldn’t see through it. He can, he has a feeling you know he can. Instead, he watches you slip back to the past, like this was your first conversation with him.

Polite.

Like whatever the two of you shared this past two months didn’t exist in the first place.      

Logan ignores the pained caterwauling in his chest. His breath won’t go down his throat, tortured and stuck.

Absentmindedly, his feet take him to the hallway, gaze lingering at your bedroom door.

It’s dead quiet, his enhanced senses picking up nothing. Somehow he thinks it’s worse than hearing you cry.

He swallows before retreating into his own room.

It was the right thing to do.

So why does it feel like he’s still drowning even after it’s done?

taglist: @squishyfruitloop @britttzy267 @tezooks @ddwnghead @dear-detested @duckyyyx @hits-different-cause-its-you @mrfitzdarcyslover @snowlycanroc @teresas-lisbon

[hearty-uncle-goblin]

My aroace struggle is that I'm on the aroace spectrum, but I'm not "completely" aroace. Sometimes, I can feel something. I have a partner. My love is mainly platonic, but romantic and sexual also, but less. My love and desire are not in a "normal" amount for society, but also, I can't fully associate myself with most of aroace posts. It's not about "I'm not normal" or "other queers are evil and forgot about me", no. Just venting.

[vshiftsss]

THE FLYEST GIRL - (FLO DR)

better viewed in light mode!

"BRITISH GIRL GROUP FLO TAKES THE WORLD BY STORM"

maybe it was meant to be.

maybe these four girls were destined to take over the world together, because everything just fit so perfectly with them. their debut EP, “the lead”, sent renée downer, stella quaresma, jorja douglas, and marlene lennox straight into the spotlight. the public weren’t ready for their addicting production, their tantalizing vocals, their hypnotizing harmonies…

flo was the next big girl group, and everyone was holding their breaths, waiting for the next chart-topper to drop.

RENÉE DOWNER … born september 23rd, 2002. 22 years old. libra. lover of r&b, gospel, and house music. theatre nerd. karoake fanatic. one of my best and first friends. beautiful soul.

JORJA DOUGLAS … born january 2nd, 2002. 23 years old. capricorn. twin flame. amazing friend. radiant spirit and attitude. my motivator…and my ex girlfriend!

STELLA QUARESMA … born november 28th, 2001. 23 years old. sagittarius. attended theatre school with me and renée. flo’s fashion consultant. top model. eye-catcher. icon.

MARLENE LENNOX … born august 2nd, 2002. 22 years old. leo. gamer (board and video games!) main cook in the group. songwriter before anything else. loves jigsaw puzzles and hates staying up late in the studio. ends up in the studio regardless.

FLO'S HITS.

ACCESS ALL AREAS … caught up, walk like this, bending my rules, aaa, in my bag (feat. glorilla), check, etc.

FLY GIRL (feat. MISSY ELLIOT).

4 OF US … control freak, change, suite life (familiar) [feat. bellah], 4 of us.

THE LEAD ... cardboard box, immature, not my job, summertime, feature me, another guy - acoustic.

MARLENE AND MICHAEL.

two growing musicians who meet on a movie set. initially coworkers, marlene and michael become closer through their mutual love for the arts. paparazzi catch them going out to dinner, walking by the beach, getting in the same vehicle. everyone knows something is up between them, but their relationship remains unconfirmed. mainly because, for a long time, they were just friends. but when that line between friends and something more finally starts to blur...marlene goes on a world tour.

TROPES ... friends to lovers, secret relationship, forced proximity (to an extent)

note ... i honestly have no idea if i want jorja, michael (cimino), or simon (riley) as my s/o. for now we're gonna say the second one, but that's subject to change. now that i'm thinking about it, i kinda want simon, but...i'm gonna keep it for now. also, if you want to be added to my taglist, let me know! you can dm or smth idk, up to you :)

note ... the picture i used for my section is not my fc! she is just a placeholder because it matched the theme the best. she is vibewithchels on pinterest.

tags ... @avelineshifts @miaojune @julianasversee @visualcve

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END OF POST - HAPPY SHIFTING!

[ollie-duck]

Though I did briefly ponder this sentiment in a post of mine, I am far more worried about a second Cold War, or a “hot” war involving nuclear weapons (not necessarily between the US and some other country, just in general, seeing as radiation does not stay put, and it would likely lead to more involvement from other nations).

If there were a WWIII it would almost certainly be mainly nuclear bomb based. Theres no need for a draft in the modern age. Foot soldiers are unnecessary, an unneeded risk when you can simply destroy your enemies and make the survivors literally disintegrate over the course of days or weeks.

I have these worries because I live in the nuclear capital of the US. I hear about nuclear weapons all the time. If a nuclear war broke out and the US was the target, I would die within the first strike.

Anyone living in the US outside of New Mexico has very little tangible things to fear. Certainly not a draft.

Rest assured, World War is the last ditch effort. It’s something that would result in the entirety of humanity being wiped out given the nuclear age within which we now reside. Leaders will not resort to this, not even egomaniacs like Trump. Their will to live outshines their need for glory.

Everything will be fine.

If you need more to quell your fears, try this song.

i have a lot of feelings about the slew of WW3 jokes I’ve seen from USAmericans in the last couple days and I am actively putting effort in to prevent myself from writing a novel-sized angry rant about it

[justnamedjosie]

i'm honestly so relieved to see so many people actively defending ragatha due to the latest episode.

after watching ep 5 i immediately had the feeling people were going to hop on the ragatha hate train, she's a well written female character who has normal human flaws just like the rest of the members of the circus, she slips up and says something insensitive to jax about whatever incident that caused jax to lose his friend (which by the end of the episode she owns up too and apologizes for by the way), yet people saw this and instead of being like "wow this character made a mistake and apologized for said mistake because nobody is perfect and everyone slips up and says something mean every now then, wow she's such a real and complex character!". we got "she's the devil incarnate".

like please get me to understand why you guys HATE this girl, these fans are literally repeating the same behavior that they showed towards pomni and gangle. it's a very uncomfortable pattern i'm seeing in this fandom of female characters being ripped to shreds for simply having flaws, like any well written character would have. and then seeing the male characters (mainly jax obviously, though i have seen the same behavior with caine a bit) be excused of literally any fault of their actions because of whatever reason they can pull out their asses at any given moment.

like no, jax shouldn't be justified or in any way excused for his behavior towards the other members just because he has issues. if that's the way these fans think then i'm honestly surprised they don't give ragatha the same treatment. like i'm not saying that any of the characters shouldn't be held accountable for their mistakes just because they have problems, hell no. i'm saying after learning that ragatha grew up with an absolutely awful mother, which would definitely explain her people pleasing behavior towards everyone, that those fans would be a lot more empathetic towards her, but i guess not.

i truly don't understand. like i love jax as much as the next person, but i can acknowledge that he's not a good person and his treatment of the others is wrong, no matter what he's internally dealing with. his issues that are slowly being revealed to us EXPLAINS his behavior, but absolutely doesn't excuse it. so it truly boggles my mind that ragatha can make these mistakes (which are so much smaller than what jax has done to others) and she's immediately deemed horrible and unforgivable. make it make sense.

at best it's simple favoritism over their favorite character that can do no wrong in their eyes (which in the process they completely mischaracterize them) and at worst it's blatant misogyny. i truly don't know what else could explain the influx of hate towards ragatha. it's okay if you don't like ragatha, not everyone will like the same character. it only gets frustrating (to me at least) when these people hate a character for something that isn't true in the slightest and that they completely made up.

the silver lining to come out of this is personally i've seen more ragatha defenders than these fans. i'm glad there are people who actually understand her character and can appreciate how well written she is! ragatha has made her way into being one of my favs on the show, and i can't wait to see where her character will go from here.

(also this isn't supposed to be a jax hate post or anything, like i said i love jax. i just really dislike how the fans have been treating him and by proxy ragatha as well.)

[kakashi-miso]

I’m very curious about Kakashi’s mom and Tobirama’s wife in the “Tobirama-is-Kakashi’s-grandfather Au” can you tell us something about them?

Tobirama's wife is named Akane. She married Tobirama out of convenience, and not out of love. Only over time did they begin to show some kind of romantic interest and tenderness towards each other. Akane is sassy and strict, especially when it comes to household chores. It is extremely important to her that everything is in its place, washed and tidied up. Akane does not maintain her relationship with her parents, because she is angry at them for using her only as an object. Tobirama begins to treat her as a person, and despite his stern nature, he actually loves both the village and his family very much.

At first, Tobirama had a hard time living with Akane. She was strict about the housework, and Tobirama felt like he was in a household army: "It's not put together correctly. It's not ventilated well. The grass isn't watered." And he responded: "I'm a ninja, not a housewife," which she took offense at. Senju then consoled her and went to make peace so that she wouldn't get angry.

T: "I don't think that vase is to blame for the fact that I didn't pick berries in the yard."

T: "Okay, enough of being offended. I'll water your bushes."

A: "Get away from me already!"

There have already been posts about Kakashi's mom. Her name is Kamugi (Wheat in Japanese). So here are some facts about her:

Kakashi's mom has anemia, which is why she often has nosebleeds and pale skin like chalk. Because of the anemia, she had a very difficult time giving birth, and it took her a long time to recover. Kakashi also inherited the anemia through his genes, but his nosebleeds are not visible under his mask. This mainly manifests itself in greater fatigue and more frequent fainting from lack of chakra than others. Fortunately, Kakashi's anemia is completely safe.

Kamugi has a beautiful straight nose, and Kakashi inherited it

[seibaitasu]

in all honesty i hope that the theories abt susie not actually being one of the prophesied heros are wrong, because it feels almost... disappointing? from a narrative standpoint.

deltarune is a game about holding onto hope and subverting your fate despite it being seemingly set in stone. right now, from a character development standpoint, susie and ralsei in particular are focused on finding ways to subvert the prophecy: so imagine if it turned out that this entire time... they didn't actually have to worry about finding a way to subvert the prophecy. because it turns out this entire time that they weren't ACTUALLY following it, so all their worry and grief was for nothing. like susie in particular is SO focused on finding a way to subvert the prophecy — imagine if all of that was done for nothing??? because it was never her fate to subvert???? and she's just an outsider changing the story for others despite not belonging????? like it'll make the emotional impact of chapter 4 just not. hit.

a lot of the evidence for this theory, whilst convincing on a surface level, also doesn't hold up as well under scrutiny?

"the girl with hope crossed on her heart is clearly meant to be noelle, and susie is "the girl" — she's something else" so. the second hero is Consistently referred to as "the girl".

"the second hero. the girl with hope crossed on her heart"

"and last, was the girl. at last, was the girl"

"love finds it's way to the girl"

the prophecy goes out of it's way to differentiate others — "the flower man" = asgore, "the lord of screens" = tenna, "the pointy-headed" = lancer, "jockington" = jockington. why would the prophecy refer to both noelle and susie with the same title?

arguing that the image doesn't LOOK like susie also... kinda falls flat when you see some of the other images in the prophecy, like with tenna's part:

when tenna... doesn't get his screen cracked in half by the knight — he loses his arms:

and like... yeah, tenna's cracked in the overworld — but not clean in half like in the prophecy. nitpicking how "the girl" appears and claiming that it can't be 100% accurate because of the image just doesn't hold up when you take smth like this into consideration. or the fact that "the girl" is shown with the rude buster symbol — smth directly related to susie.

"love finds it's way to the girl" also isn't out of character for susie / "more applicable to noelle"????? even if in the weird route suselle isn't like... as there as in the normal route, love doesn't exactly HAVE to be romantic. love still finds it's way to susie with kris and ralsei — they both love her. susie goes from being alone to having friends and caring adults for the first time — love DOES find it's way to her.

there's a lot more than just this, but tbh if i'd want to properly theory post, i'd have to put together a much more concise post — this is mainly me rambling

[soulfulazrael]

I noticed something... concerning growing in Deltarune community

And it relates to my previous post about a certain theory I had because the more I delve into this community after thinking about it the more I am concerned. And big part of that is this piece of art by sanbel780308

Just so you all know though. I throw NO shade at the artist. They are REALLY good and I hope none of you go after them or insult them or anything. This piece of art or rather that post is something that made me realize something about DR community overall.

There is some weird... hero/savior complex going on... or something... incel like. I dunno. It just feels weird. It is mainly centered on the mentality people have around Kris and Susie. Where there is a very big theory where once Susie knows about Kris and us being separate she will ditch Kris and realize WE were her real friend all this time and that will create sad conflict.

And I honestly at this point think it's just fucking weird. Like the more I think on this theory and what mentality some people who believe it have, the more gross it feels and the more I dread if it becomes a reality.

Because this is pretty much an idea where YOU are the only reason Susie likes Kris at all and without you Kris is NOTHING and they would be nothing if not just evil. Where you are the one who does everything right. Where YOU are the one who deserves to be Susie's friend and Kris NEEDS you to be her and everyone else's friend and...

Can you tell already all the things that are just... wrong with this? It's genuinely creepy mentality. Like imagine you have a friend who helps you out with talking to a girl (or a boy or other, I don't judge). They give you some hints, they help you out being more confident and you are able to also spend more time with her, being able to have fun with her and do things with her on your own.

But then you introduce her to him (or her... or other... either way I would judge, you'll see why), you explain how they helped you. And then this person goes "Yeah. I did all the work for them. Pretty much everything they said and did was from ME! So you should be with ME! Not them! Without me they suck!".

This is pretty much what this sounds like to me. I think this comic by valentinemesis I think REALLY well shows what I mean here

Honestly. This comic nails on the head what I think is genuinely growing in this community. And the more I see it the more I hope that my idea where Susie is able to quickly get over what Kris does and is and is more angry and distrustful against US to be a reality. Because honestly... this fanbase kind of needs it I say.

This kind of cold shower where you have to wake some people up to reality where this kind of mentality REALLY should not fester. Because I genuinely something just awful would come from it. And I think Toby is smarter than let something of this sort brew in his community like this. Especially with how it feels close to what "Chara did all the bad things" was for Undertale. I feel like he knows better now.

Especially with how many of them also ignore how Kris DOES in fact do things with Susie without our input. If not most of them at this point. And to act as if they have no say, or relationship with Susie is genuinely gross.

Or maybe I am just paranoid, self hating weirdo, but to me... I just feel off about all this. And I genuinely hope this wont turn into something awful.

Anyway. Hope you all who read this check out those artists I mentioned. Support them or whatever. Do not harass any of them (as if I have enough reach to cause this). And... I hope you do not think of future events in Delatrune like this because... you gotta admit. It's fucking weird.

[fishyaudio]

Raz, who's been your favourite design you've made for your anthro au? I have a feeling it's Saint lol

Your feeling is not wrong, she's a favourite to draw!

But if I had to choose one, favourite design ever out of the ten, it would be the one for Shine (aka Monk, I really need to start using the names I gave them all for the AU here as well, gahh)

It's a surprising choice for me, because when it came to in-game depiction + popular fandom interpretations of Monk, I never really liked the guy (not disliked, just didn't think about the character a lot and found others more interesting). I don't usually dig the "peaceful, kind, happy" archetype characters in media in general, it's just not my thing, and most "fanmade character extensions" of Monk I've seen just expanded on that alone. It's not that they're anyhow wrong! They're just really not my thing and it always itches me to introduce more contrast or flavor in personalities of that sort. It's suprisingly hard to write a character who is mainly just really pure and avoids conflict, at least for me. Unhinged beasts with weird morals are sometimes just easier to grasp bwahaha

And with that, since it's "character design" and not just "design" - that initially made me feel like designing and creating the anthro AU equivalent for Monk would be a neccessary struggle and when I'm done, I won't ever pay much attention to a character I'd consider a bit more flat in comparison to what I had planned for others. But the longer I sketched, more "what ifs" came to mind and I ended up with Shine - still the younger sibling, just taller and bigger than the scrawny, troublemaking, older one. Took advantage of Share (Gourmand) being his parent, so he takes after him in size and personality a bit more. That opened a really fun path to explore with him.

I've decided to link his pacifist mentality and kindness not to being childish and bit unwise, but to idealism, stronger sense of justice and an overall aspiration to be reliable and responsible. He's still young and naive, but it doesn't come from being childish and having a "kill them with kindness, no other options allowed" mentality, but rather from being an inexperienced, future leader with a lot of potential. One that's often being very harsh on himself when his mistakes or faulty judgement causes a slip-up or a situation escalated in a way he couldn't predict. Sometimes, things just happen and there was no way to foresee the consequences or avoid confrontation, despite how hard everyone tried, and that's also a part of life - that's something Shine would struggle to accept. He's naive, but not dumb. Even with that - it doesn't stop him from being a very trustworthy and quick-thinking individual. I like that about him!

And this is also what's reflected in the design - he's on the taller side, with a more blocky build. Flowy, loose clothes both make him look really comfortable and chill, visually suggesting that he's more laid-back, not active, not used to fights and messy situations, while also pushing the silhouette to be a one, sturdy shape even more. That just yells "you can approach and trust this guy easily" by looks alone. From smaller details - he has the monk symbol in a visible place on his belt -> wants to signal to others that he's not a threat and is always willing to talk things out or settle for a compromise. He doesn't have much more accessories -> doesn't like showing off and isn't desperate for attention. The only striking, busy pattern he has on him is the striped sleeve to match his sib - he values Ways (Survivor) a lot!

From other designs for the AU - March, Ways and Steps (Spearmaster, Survivor and Rivulet) are also my favourites for various reasons, but this post is already a yap session. Maybe next time, if anyone's curious.

Thanks for the ask! Gave me an excuse to draw them more!!

AU tag here!

[palossssssand]

I’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff I’ve never really elaborated on wrt to “my other characters” (as in, my splatoon characters that aren’t Trito or Kinoga) so I’m just going to gun it and post about Kanu, specifcally about his character in terms of gender and disability

Some ground details:

Kanu is transgender. He was born into a wealthy family, his natural ink color is silver(just a headcanon that metallic ink colors correspond to nobility). I have art of him as a child with a prosthetic arm but I think I’m going to retcon that because it doesn’t make a lot of sense. I still don’t have a reason for why he lost it but that reason is not central to his character(unless I find something thematically relevant). His arm works like Edward Elric’s in that there is a central “hub” piece attached to his shoulder that connects his nerves to his arm, meaning the arm is replaceable.

(side tangent: I’m having a little trouble trying to figure out how this works logistically if he lost it when he was young, like if he has to replace the central hub as he grows, and if it’s a painful process. Regardless of the logistics of his prosthetic arm, it was fitted to him for functionality in the military).

I’m going to go with the assumption that the octarian military is both a) an involuntary draft unless physically unable and b) a great honor to serve their people. Kanu, being from a wealthy family, is put into a position where he is accommodated so that he is able to fulfill that honor for his people And “cover” for the disability. Given that the octarian domes have been in decline and have been scarce on resources, being given accommodation was very valuable.

Presenting now a brief writing on Kanu’s dynamic with his parents:

This is someone who grew up being materially supported as well as the mindset that he is entitled to that support. Which to be fair, he should be, but his upbringing did not give him the emotional intelligence to understand why he is able to be in the position to be disabled and serve.

Regardless if the prosthetic arm is readily accessible to him, it could never be replaceable for a flesh arm with full control, and he grows to understands this, eventually learning to rely more on his other limbs. He is put into a position where he is taught to ignore the disability (where everything is materially accommodated* for and to be grateful for it) and glaringly, realizing that this is not the case.

* I do feel the need to clarify that his accommodation in this case is mainly a perceived one, that is, (i know we’re living in splatoon fantasy world) a prosthetic arm made to replicate a living arm, more form than function, as a lot of depictions of prosthetic arms tend to be, therefore, the arm is mostly an “accommodation” by name. Maintenance, weight, balance, discomfort, etc can all be disadvantages and often times many have an easier time managing without a prosthetic arm. More on that in this post by @submalevolentgrace and apologies if I misinterpreted that post in any way

In order for me to tie this into gender, I have to speculate on how Domes Octarian gender roles work, because clearly there Are Gender Roles. The majority of soldiers depicted in canon are women. All the elites are women. I think it’s a reasonable assumption to make that Domes Octarian womanhood is tied to status and strength, things that Kanu is quite accustomed to from an early age and has internalized as core parts of his being because it was what he’s been told.

There comes a time in his life, during his service under Kinoga’s leadership, that he starts having feelings of dissatisfaction with his relationship to his assigned gender as well as a sort of tension with his disability. Kinoga, being assertive, supportive, and attentive, plays to each of their squad member’s strengths, something that was never fully realized with Kanu’s upbringing. He was encouraged to fight without relying on his arm, which was something that he’d learned to do on his own anyways. The prosthetic is imposed on him, not maliciously, but he internalizes that he should be grateful for it. The reality is that it’s unsuitable for him, and his time with the squad is an environment where he is allowed the time and space to realize this.

Kanu finds out he’s transgender for reasons unspecified. My point in tying disability and gender for Kanu is that for him, dissociating himself from what he was given involves a sense of loss in terms of power and status. And that strength is not something he wants to lose. He’s still stubborn, tenacious, and skilled, and in a way, he feels the need to prove to himself that he is still worthy even if he feels it necessary sheds the things he’s been given. When he does transition socially in the domes, when he learns to rely less and less on his prosthetic arm, there’s a sense of reclamation in that strength for the first time and a rejection of what he’s been given. Taking control in his life in a way that’s his own.

That’s not to say that all this manifests in a great way. Keep in mind that there’s still a certain callousness to him, abrasive in the way that he’s not shaken off, blunt because that’s how he got what he wanted. When he leaves the squad to find Kinoga, Trito, and Agara, who left for the metros, his firm insistence in his belief that he must go looking for him is what shatters the rest of the group. (Denchu especially so, since Kanu’s transition led her to begin questioning her identity too. I could also write a whole essay on Denchu, his relationship to gender, role in a group dynamic, and resistance to change). Despite knowing that Denchu means a great deal to him, he isn’t aware of why his decision upsets them so much, wanting to justify it for the good of the squad.

His escape to the surface is his freedom. His decisions, his actions, are all his own. On the surface, the gender roles (presumably) are not as strict, there’s more options, more expression, more comfort for him to be a man. He discards his old prosthetic arm and for a while, is content with leaving it that way. It’s only recently that he builds the new arm that is seen in the ref. He builds it with his blood, sweat, and tears, in his own free time, with his own trial and error. He doesn’t build it out of necessity at all because he knows he can perform without it (keyword: perform, because this is still a man who feels he needs to prove what he can do on his own.). Kanu builds the arm purely because he knows he has the technical skill to pull it off and because it’s cool as fuck. It has swappable tools and a more tentacle-like flexibility that aligns better with his needs that still is not more useful than just having no arm because he is plenty capable. The arm itself is not the point, the autonomy to make it for himself is.

Despite this, his fixation on doing things because he can and wants to is still detrimental to his health. His desire for things and stubbornness to pursue them hasn’t changed from his upbringing, only his motivation and means to pursuit. It’s still about autonomy. But it’s still about control.

phew. I think that’s most of what I have for him as a character, individually. if you guys want another post like this just let me know because I have all this stuff sitting in my brain and I just need to be enabled to post about it

[offbranddrpepsi]

Hi! Welcome back! Can I request needy headcanons (nsfw or sfw) sova, reyna, and chamber?

Of course! Ty for the welcome back! I don't have any of my banners sorted so this post wont have any for the time being besides a divider I nabbed. Also this will be both cause fuck it I like needy bitches. NSFW will be under the cut! Since this is multiple characters the SFW will be first then I'll do a cut and have each characters NSFW

Sova, Reyna and Chamber being Needy for their partner SFW and NSFW

Sova

Sova is the very quiet needy. He doesn't really vocalize he needs your affection minus maybe a whine as he shoves his face into your hair/neck.

You could honestly mistake him asking for time as him just asking if you are busy. "Do you have plans after training?" "what are you doing for lunch?" etc. He's asking to see if its okay if he intrudes when you have down time but he just seems to be being nice.

Of course once its either people he trusts (Sage, Skye, Killjoy, Breach. Basically most agents he doesn't see as his boss OR has a mentor relationship with) or just you then he gets more clearly needy kind of like a really reserved dog.

He will walk up and just....place his head on yours or your shoulder, which ever is easier. Wrap his arms around you and just hang there without a word besides carrying on conversation casually with others and you. Sometimes he's just wrapped around your arm doing the same.

Hes making sure your shoulders are touching if he cant directly be a little koala. If you're sat its your knees. Little bumps and taps, basically any way he can touch you without clearly touching you.

These are all just little warnings that the moment you're alone he's going to absolutely smother you

Once your in your room he's laying on top of you or you on top of him. One of you is in the others lap like its just another chair. He is putting as much weight as possible on you at all times, sighing as he does so

his one vocalization is asking you to brush, braid, or play with his hair. which he sighs during constantly.

If you try to get up and leave him? good luck. This man may be one of the best hunters alive but he is not above clinging to your ankles or thigh like a toddler.

Reyna

Reyna is at the very least vocal though its very lowkey

you get a 'mi corazon ' as she greets you and is then draped over you like a bitey blanket

Shes very lovey towards her partners in general and when shes starved for affection this is turned way up. Every third word out of her mouth is some praise towards you, some pet name, some compliment, and occasionally a pout

This woman pouts so much! Shes got her lips squished out full force, making the cutest face that just barely suits her, all while squishing your face with her hands as she fawns over you and tries to get you to give her attention

Reyna is also a massive nuzzler! Between squishing you shes rubbing her cheek to yours as well as her nose. A gentle nuzzle in your hair is a lot of what you're getting when shes needy

Once alone, or rather in a better position for it, shes even more rabid for that soft affection.

Cuddle session where shes just pressed into your softness. Naps with her lightly snoring while stretched over you like a star fish. She mainly just wants all your attention and all your time no matter what that's spent doing

Reyna would also steal your clothes to wear because "who knows how long you will be gone next?"

Chamber

Chamber is a bit like Reyna in the fact he's very verbally affectionate, damn near smothering, when he's needy

Hes singing praises as well as how much he missed you though you were only apart for maybe ten minutes.

Unlike the other two he is also louder both in action and word

He spins you around then pulls you into a hug, he's going on about taking you out to dinner or making something for you, he's already planning to take you dancing or on a relaxing vacation to the country side.

As someone who doesn't get a lot of time to himself, every second counts and time is money, he really goes all out with filling that time with as much of you as possible

If you're nestled in bed he's wrapped around you lovingly going on, while also mildly complaining about this being rare, about how good it is to have this time with you and how utterly blissful this is

Hes giving you kisses near constantly and finds any excuse not to leave you

He is also so so damn whiny when alone!

You get up to use the bathroom and he's practically throwing a fit! He's giving you the saddest puppy dog look he can muster while sitting pitifully on the floor you 'dumped (he ungracefully rolled)' on.

You need to get up to do anything and he's shoved his head into your chest begging for 'just one more moment' as if you're going to turn into dust right there

Gods forbid you have to actually leave for any extended period of time! He's laying on the bed, arms thrown out until he's fully covering it, glasses off and hair a mess audibly whining as you leave. Once you return he's in the same position looking at you so pathetically you swear he's about to cry

Sova

When sova wants you its clear, when he needs you its even clearer

Directly will say you two are turning in early, despite your confusion and protests, he has had a very busy week after all

Hes under your clothes ASAP, touching any skin he can access

Kisses are generous on any exposed skin as well only getting even more generous as more and more skin is revealed

Hes still very lowly vocal. Near silent gasps and whines as you take your time

But be too slow and he's cursing in Russian while politely asking you to hurry up in English, voice always just above a sweet whisper

If you want to take charge he fully lets you, allowing you to do pretty much whatever while he's quietly spewing praise after praise as well as gratitude. You're going down on him and he's near chanting thank you

Give him some control, some permission to fulfill himself unassisted, and he's strongly but slowly fucking into you.

Even though he may be damn near breaking, needing to just indulge in your body as much as you'll let him, he's still focused on you and your needs to. Before he can even climax he's making sure you're getting off too. He's got you rested on his cock stimulating you while also whining any time you move in response.

Once he finishes you he's fucking you relentlessly, whining as he cums in you and not pulling out. Just resting as he now lazily keeps kissing your body.

Reyna

Reyna goes from slightly smothering but direct to dominant and even more direct!

Shes taking her shoes off while instructing you to strip and go lay in bed for her. Its said so lovingly you cant refuse, not that you'd want to.

She doesn't spend long 'getting ready' and is on you running her nails across you in minutes, seconds if shes that down bad.

Reyna is hungry for you and that's so so clear. Shes drinking in every sound and motion you make. Her mouth is on you both biting and pleasuring. She is a vampire with her partner, the finest meal she will ever have, and shes treating you as such.

Despite being needy she draws this out for hours, well into the morning, to the point you're beyond exhausted and are falling asleep in her arms.

You're out of commission for days while shes happy as a clam, making you what ever food you desire and pampering you.

It is always days btw because this woman swings by for seconds and thirds and never seems to actually get tired.

The second you get up shes on you, kissing your skin and running her nails across it. Pulling you to her for some light simulation that may or may not escalate again, depends on why you're up honestly.

Chamber

Now, when Chamber needs you sexually he is very very forward. Either he will take you to the side and ask when you can step away for a quick round or he's texting you asking if you'd be up for it later. In both cases he's stressing he will get everything ready, that he will spoil you in exchange, that he will make it worth your time and his.

Sadly Chamber is not very patient once he gets bad. Its no secret he's undressing you with his eyes as you train. He leans a little too much into your light, casual touches. You kiss his cheek and he's ready to drop to his knees right there

Needy Chamber is sporadic to put it lightly. He's a man with far too much he wants to do and to little time to do it so he takes what he can get. This means he's waiting for the training room to clear, kissing down your neck and hand half way down your pants as foot steps trail away. The moment the coast is clear your bent over a table being furiously but passionately fucked from behind.

He's snuck you away to a storage closet to give you the most intense head of your life before coming out looking just as perfect as he always does.

in the same day he asked for you in his workshop. Just as the door shut and locked you were pulled into his lab and on his cock with him near crying into your shoulder about how beautiful you are and how grateful he is for this brief moment

On a really bad day you can hardly get a break. Every second he can he's touching you, stimulating you, pressed into you and making you very aware of his want. He's also flaunting like a peacock, flirting at you and complimenting you constantly.

Finally once you two have an actual moment he is desperately fucking you, chasing both your orgasm and his own. He doesn't stop until either you're telling him to or he's physically sore. Its a mess, its so unlike him, but he has that sex drunk haze about him and looks like he couldn't be happier to be covered in bruises and fluids.