#it has become nothing but a source of pain and frustration to me

[soothingmoonlight]

.

[gtgbabie0]

Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: {Sevika has some trouble with her mechanical arm, you offer her help} For my other works my Masterlist is here <3

softSevika,softSevika,softSevika! Enjoy my lovelies <3 💕

The pale light of the moon was drowned out by the neon signs that flicker soft colours of pink and blue which bleed through your small apartment, it was the only source of light guiding Sevika through the room before she finds the light switch, clumsily flicking it on.

It had all gone so horribly wrong so quickly, what was meant to be a simple drop off and pick up turned into a violent mess— fucking useless, she thought bitterly. It’d be the last time she would work with some newbies who couldn’t tell their left from their right.

Her frustrations were bubbling over, that much was clear when she slams the front door shut, immediately wincing at the loud noise and once again she silently curses, this time at herself.

It was well past midnight and you were definitely knocked out like a light, it was endearing how quickly you fell asleep, one moment the pair of you would be talking then the very next you were snoring your head off. The thought of you curled up in your shared bed with your face smushed against the soft pillows makes her smile— the type that softens her hardened features.

It almost made her forget about the dull ache that seized her muscles, almost. She needed a drink.

So with a bottle of whiskey and her toolbox, you had so kindly brought for her spread out on the coffee table she sat down on the couch trying to fix the mess that had become of her mechanical arm— which was so much more harder to do by herself, without you there to unscrew the screws she couldn’t reach or to hand her the right tools… or to caress her cheek with those soft hands of yours, fuck, she had missed you more then she’d like to admit.

Sevika had been at it for hours, fumbling with one stubborn screw that had been lodged stuck. It refused to come loose for love nor money and it was driving her up the damn wall that she throws the stupid screwdriver across the room, watching it bounce across the wooden floorboards with a loud clang and a thud.

She stares down at it with a small scowl, scoffing before reaching for the bottle of whiskey.

“Sev?— what’re you doing?” Your soft voice, heavy with sleep ripples through the silence, breaking down the spell of anger that seemed ever present.

“Nothing, go back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.” She mumbles the reply, ducking her head down to look at the floor beneath her, it was almost ridiculous how fast the guilt hit her. She’d woken you up at god knows what time with her banging around.

You shake your head at her dismissal, padding your way over to her with a small frown— your hands tightening the silk robe you had wrapped around your body. Without a word she moves her legs so you can perch yourself on the edge of the coffee table, sitting in front of her.

“You won’t be able to fix it if you’re drunk.” You tell her, a small smirk ghosting over your lips as you watch her put the bottle of whiskey down on the table with a small huff.

“It’s not the alcohol—” Sevika replies gruffly, her heart skipping a few beats at the feeling of your hand against her knee as you rummage through her toolbox. “It needs a specific part.” Gods, you made her feel like a lovesick fool sometimes but damn if she didn’t absolutely adore the feeling.

With a soft hum, you let your fingertips graze along the metal fixings of her prosthetic arm, the joints were all broken and a couple of cogs were missing— it’d be easier to fix if it was detached and by the look on Sevika’s face she knew this… but it was a pain to do.

“I could-” you go to offer her an alternative, eyes skimming across the mechanical arm as your tired mind runs a mile a minute.

“Just help me take it off,” She concedes with a weary sigh, nodding over to the screwdriver which you’re quick to pick up.

She didn’t like having it off, to feel so vulnerable and defenceless. In a strange way, it scared her. Sure she could probably knock a guy or two out with one hand but it was still daunting to feel so stripped in such a way.

You stand up from the coffee table, situating yourself in between her legs as you begin to gently unscrew the bolts, handing them over to her one after another as she puts them safely into a bag. Then with a soft hiss of air, the arm comes loose, the weight falling from Sevika’s shoulder and down on the sofa beside her.

“We’ll fix it tomorrow… get that specific piece.” You promise her with a tender smile, looking down at her from where you stand with her rough hand resting over the curve of your hips from between the opening of your silken robe— caressing up to your waist slowly.

“Mmhm.” She hums in agreement, leaning forwards to bury her face into your soft tummy with a heavy sigh that borders on a groan as you skim your fingertips along her cheek and through her hair ever so slowly that it has her nuzzling into you like a damn cat.

Gods, you knew just how to dismantle her… you were a dangerous woman— her kryptonite.

“C’mere.” She mutters, pulling you down onto her lap without a single second thought. Her strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you against her as you melt into her body— her fingers brushing along your hip.

“Come to bed Sev— you look like you’re about to pass out.” You whisper, turning your head to get a good look at her with those soft eyes of yours… so tired and sweet.

“I will just let me hold you like this for a minute.” She replies back, bumping her forehead against your own— pressing a kiss to your cheek then burying her face into the crook of your shoulder, a muffled ‘I love you’ spoken into your skin.

[skywalkr-nberrie]

Padme being in a state of depression that only her kids can bring out of her but when she is alone she is frustrated and miserable. I feel she would also hate Obi-wan and tell him to not be near her kids. And Obi-wan is like “they must be trained” and she is like “Do you want me to bring up how you trained their father? Do you want me to bring up with you and order did to him? I want my kids to thrive and live as much as possible not to die betrayed and alone”

I feel she would try to bounce back but would be miserable and mad and in a state of inability to. Like she would try to be positive but would be drowning in pain with her kids trying to cheer her up.

I added the other ask you sent me into this post as well nonnie! First and foremost! Please forgive me for taking this long in replying to you! I’m horrible at answering my asks right away 😅

Anywho though! Omg! Your grasp and understanding of Padmé’s character is immaculate! Because I literally have the same analysis on her. Padmé is a very strong and passionate woman, but when she’s pushed into a corner she tucks away in herself and forces herself to become strong and sturdy to the point where nothing could harm her. Hence why I say she’d fall back into her “leader role” where she never thought of herself and only lived and served to help others around her. Her purpose would all come down to Luke and Leia and helping take the Empire done in her own way.

That’s exactly how it’d be if she were to live post ROTS and live on assuming Anakin is dead, I also would say there’s a part of her that want to retreat and just live her life happily with only her kids but she’s too dutiful to just stay behind and run away into her own paradise. You’re right that her only source of hope and happiness is her children and she gives everything she has into raising them, and serving the rebellion. And 100% her resentment towards OW and the Order for what happened to Anakin as well. She’d want to protect Luke and Leia from a life of cold detachment and risk them falling prey to the dark side the way their father did, on top of that she’d NEVER let anyone take her babies away from her.

(I sense another meta on the horizon based on this topic now, oops-)

[tremendouscreationperson]

Logan x Reader pt.16

They say you write what you know so Y/N is having a lil bit of a tough time

There be a little bit of a time jump - nothing major but I haven't written for a week and a bit so it felt necessary

It may not be massively long but don't worry, Victor is in this one, how we feeling about his characteristics? I want him to be the same but different because this world doesn't hate mutants but I don't know if I'm just butchering the character

<<Part 15 Part 17>> Masterlist

“So I'm conclusion, Dave, I'm still not having a great time. I'm being supportive of Gambit and Laura because they want to go to the X-Mansion and it kills me that she stays the night. Yeah, she texts me, lets me know how things are and sends me photos but she is making connections with people that I knew! She is becoming a member of the family. I returned home and it wasn't home. She returned there and it is. And I know that's selfish and stupid and I sound horrid but I am jealous. Jealous of my own daughter, fucking hell. I'm embarrassed about that too! Having to hide it from the others. Wade's off with the Avengers badgering Thor, Elektra has Maria and Natalie - oh no, sorry Natasha, they sent an agent to spy on us, I bet you're one, and the agent became friends, it's.... Anyway. Blade gets up to god knows what. And I'm lying to Logan. He asks for updates and I say I'm fine and I am really, I dunno why I'm moaning. I dunno why I'm making a huge deal out of this. But I'm sad. There's not really a logical reason for me to be sad but I am. And I tell him I’ve gone for a jog or I began a new book when in reality I barely get out of bed to feed the pigeons on my fire escape.” You held your arms, hugging yourself. “I dunno, and I know you're going to say communication is key, talk to everyone, but I don't want them to know I'm sad because I'm always sad. I don't want to be sad any more. I'm bored of it. I'm always the one that's struggling or that needs support and they always provide it but it gets tiring after a while, repeating the same task over and over again."

Dave's eyes pierced yours. He stared directly through them and at your brain, trying to dissect your thoughts straight from the source.

He observed your body language, how frustrated you were at yourself, how tired your bones were.

“First of all: communication is key.” You groaned. “Second of all: there are valid reasons for your lapse. You entered a place where you had made a home, you visited members of your family and they did not recognise or acknowledge who they were to you because they do not know. They are unaware of your pain, unaware that you share this bond. It is natural to feel displaced, especially with the bombardment of memories that you experienced, to be there in the past vs the future is striking, is jarring. And to top that off some of your closest frie-family have decided to make themselves at home there. Yes, you are jealous but you are hurt. Hurt that they would dare to go where you cannot. And I haven't even brought up your parents, yet.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Go ahead, why not?”

“Seeing your mother and father brings up your childhood trauma as well as feelings of neglect because she is doing well. She expressed pride when talking about mutants where your mother was scared. Was ashamed.”

You nod again, a lump in your throat preventing you from talking.

“And no it is not healthy to be lying to your partner. I'm sure he would not appreciate it and frankly I don't think he deserves to be lied to.

Fuck you.

“I guess it's just easier because it's texting.” You shrugged. “I couldn't lie to his face, not convincingly anyway. But he's found Victor and they seem to be getting along. I don't know why it was so important to find him. I don't think there was an actual reason to do so, I think it was the same reason I looked up my mom. I think he just needed to see his brother. Which I am not diminishing I just- I know it's important but I don't know why.. so I guess I'm confused about that, too?”

“You are feeling a lot of emotions.” He commented.

“Yeah,” your voice was an octave higher as you agreed. “I haven't felt like this in a long while.”

Dave's lip pulled in a half hearted smile and he began scratching down some notes. “Are you taking your meds?”

“I have been yes.” At your last session Dave had given you a prescription for some antidepressants. Well, no they were more like antianxieties but that didn't really roll off the tongue as well. You had seen Dave twice before this and, as everyone says, each time did get easier. He was still as curt as ever but you grew to appreciate that. No use in a therapist that coddled you.

“We may need to up them if you still feel like this in two months.”

“Two months?!”

“Medication takes its time to get into your system. The only pills that work instantaneously are placebos.”

Fair play.

“How's your sleep pattern?”

“Oh, did I tell you I found a coping mechanism?” He waved his hand for you to proceed. “At night when the nightmares come I do this-” you wrapped a field around yourself but this one was different. This field was stronger, was lighter, was flexible. Moulded to your very being. You had never been able to form anything like this before but one night in sheer terror you accidentally created it. It felt warm. Like a security blanket. “- and I don't feel as bad.”

“That's very good.” He smiled, his eyes scanning your body. “Is that new? The invisibility?”

“The what?” The field immediately fell.

“You were invisible.”

“I beg your finest pardon.”

“Y/N. You were invisible.” You weren't. You could see yourself when the field wrapped around your limbs, it was just the familiar purple hue around your body. “Did you not know?”

“I haven't been able to do that.” It sounded like a question. “I can see myself!"

"I couldn't."

"I have a new power? So I can heal and I can turn invisible? Wh-what else did Stark do to me?!”

“I'm sure Tony Stark didn't mean for this particular side effec-”

“Well, what side effects did he mean for?”

Dave didn't answer you, he let out a sigh and scribbled down on his paper.

~~

Walking home was fine. You stopped off to grab some seeds - the pigeons liked peanuts the best but they ate anything so you might be wrong - and ended up back at your apartment block in no time.

In the elevator your thoughts were wild, bouncing off the box walls.

So invisibility was a thing.

You could be invisible.

That wasn't bad.

Okay it was odd.

Really weird.

When you got back you'd have to take a video to send to Logan.

But why could you see yourself?

You'd have to test it in front of a mirror.

The doors pulled open and you waddled down to your front door in no time, key in hand.

Unlocking the door, you pushed it and paused at the man standing inside. He was in your front room behind the sofa (more towards your kitchen) scanning the place.

Even from his side profile you knew it was Victor.

His head swivelled towards you and he gave you a smile, canines on full display.

“Victor.” Your eyes left him for barely a moment, frantically darting around to see where Logan was, before landing back on him.

Victor eyed you up and down. “You must be Y/N.” He had such an intimidating aura, it was unnatural.

“Where's Logan?”

“Preoccupied.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You didn't want to think the worst, however that's all your brain could do at the moment. Still though, you kept your chin up, not giving him the satisfaction of looking away again. Victor's hair was longer - facial hair included, he had a beard rather than the stubble you were used to - which made it look lighter. It was still brown and wasn't quite touching his shoulders but the soft locks made him look vastly different. He still had the edge to him but this made him… he seemed wilder? His clothes were plain: a black tee with tan pants and combat boots but he had paired them with a long tan fur trimmed coat.

“Why are you here?”

“Why not?” He smirked, nose twitching. “I see why he chose you.”

You didn't know what to do. Why was he being so unsettling?

The door to your room opened and Logan came out, despite his face being covered by a beard you could see it lit up when he saw you.

“Y/N, hey!” He grinned, making a beeline straight to you. “You've met Victor?”

Logan's arm wrapped itself around your waist as he glanced at his brother. “He's being fucking weird but yeah, we've met.”

“Vic, c’mon don't be an ass to my girl.”

Victor gave a shrug, stepping backwards and running his nails against your counter top. “Can’t help it. She's divine, a nice little catch.”

“Victor, I won't ask twice. Not in her home.”

The man in question rolled his eyes but put his hands up in surrender.

~~

“So he's staying for how long?” You questioned sitting on the lip of the bath whilst Logan carefully shaved his face.

“I don't know.” His eyes met yours in the mirror. “When I found him we got talking, I explained the situation and I wanted to ask him about our father, I- I just wanted to talk to him. When the illuminati assessed me they asked about relatives and despite it all I said Victor’s name. Got them to update me if they found him because I knew if he didn't want to be found he wouldn't be. That's why I had to leave, if I hadn't and he vanished again I'd have missed the chance.”

“So… how long's he staying?” You repeated with a playful smirk.

Logan rolled his eyes. “I know he can be a bit intimidating but if he's anything like my Victor it's all an act.”

“I've just never managed to get along with a Victor Creed.”

“He didn't have anywhere to go, was roaming about in the snow.” Logan let out a soft sigh. “We have these spare apartments here and… he's my brother.” You could see the conflict behind the decision. See how Logan was unsure of himself. “Wanted him to meet you. To meet Laura, too.”

Your heart lurched at the low confessions. He was such a girl dad you loved it. “She's been at the mansion a lot. I can call her, tell her to come back tomorrow or the next day, we could go out for a meal or a museum or bowling?”

Would bowling work with his nails?

Logan tried not to smile but it didn't work. “I'd like that.”

Your eyes left his, flittering down to your knees. You couldn't begrudge his decision, he wanted his brother to meet his partner and child. It was a decision made out of love as that just made your heart swell.

“How did you find the mansion?” Logan finished with his face, turning to lean against the sinks countertop. “I know we've spoken about it on text but it's not the same as talking.”

“Uh, yeah, the mansion was alright.” You clasped your hands. “The same as it ever was.”

Logan was waiting for more. “That's it?”

“Yeah. Not much more to say.” You shrug one shoulder.

He frowned. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” You told him honestly because technically nothing did happen at the mansion when you went. You were just preoccupied with memories and then left to see your parents but that was off Charles' property. “Just was a bit meh.”

Logan still waited for any elaboration. He wasn't a fool, he'd noticed the sag in your shoulders and the bags under your eyes. Your hair needed some love and your skin a shade paler. The telltale signs of ‘Y/N having nightmares’, he had seen them back in his universe and been able to soothe you so why would this be any different?

“Please talk to me.”

You opened your mouth, wanting to talk to him. Wanting to divulge what had happened these past few weeks but you didn't. You couldn't. “I will but not yet.” You outstretched your hand and he immediately accepted it. “I promise I'm okay and I will tell you.”

Logan hated that. Hated that you couldn't tell him this. Weren't you marri- no, you weren't. Why weren't you? You were married but he wasn't but you were married to him. But not to him.

He should remedy that.

“I must confess though,” your sweet voice cemented it. He had to. “I liked the beard.”

Logan's eyes crinkled and he held your cheek in one palm. “Thank you.”

"It grew so quickly."

"My hair does."

Your eyes shone under the fluorescent tube. “But this is you. This is Logan."

Logan considered his appearance - his ‘kitten ears’ and mutton chops - and wondered if he was born in this time would he look different? Most people eyed him with caution but not you. You gazed lovingly at him. “I've looked like this for about 200 years, no use in changing it now.”

You kissed his palm.

~~

Victor had also shaved his facial hair when you reconnected. He wore the same oversized sideburns as Logan and fuck me they looked similar.

You gave him an awkward smile from the kitchen as Logan set the table. The two of you had decided on enchiladas for dinner and had obviously invited Victor.

Logan had offered up Laura's original apartment to his brother seeing as she fully moved into yours when you fully moved into his.

Your phone buzzed on the countertop, Elektra's name lighting the screen.

Elektra: Who's the man Logan let into 16? X

Y/N: His brother x

Y/N: Long story, I will inform you when I have all the details x

Elektra: he's cute x

Y/N: if you want to keep thinking like that don't talk to him x

Elektra: LOL

You placed your phone into your pocket and, bent to pull the food out of the oven, calling ‘dinners ready’ over your shoulder.

Logan gestured for Victor to sit at the table, unlike the other apartments this one was circular so there was no faffing about with who's sitting where.

Victor sat, giving you a wary glance as the food was placed in the centre. “Careful it's hot.”

He chuckled. “You don't have to worry about me.”

“Sorry.” Of course you didn't. “Force of habit.”

Logan ran a hand up your arm. “Don't worry, it's sweet.” And then sat in-between the two of you.

“Oh!” You remembered drinks. “You guys want a beer?”

The two nodded and said ‘thanks’ at the same time before eyeing each other.

This was so strange. You darted off to the fridge grabbing two beers and a can of 7up for yourself. Beer tasted too much like alcohol for your liking and you were afraid to have any flavoured gin or rum in case the sour mood you'd been living in for the past week made itself known.

Logan dished up an enchilada for Victor, then himself and just as you were sitting he placed one on your plate.

“Right, Victor, I hope you like it.” You wanted him before he took a bite. “I had to look in the fridge and just make it work.”

“I've lived through wars, I'm sure this is acceptable.” He gave you a wink except this time you didn't feel revulsion. He was making a joke and you imagined many missed them due to how dry his wit was.

“It'll be the best thing you've ever had.” Logan boasted. “Y/N pretends she isn't but she's the best chef I know.”

You roll your eyes. “It isn't hard to put some ingredients together. I'm not amazing but living in the Mansion made me cook.”

Victor took a bite and scanned you. “You lived in the X-Mansion?”

You nodded, mouth full of food. “Mhmm.”

“In your universe?”

Raising a hand in a ‘one sec' sign, you chewed faster. “Yes, I've actually met another version of you. Your hair is longer.”

“The version Logan met?”

Logan shook his head. “Nah, we're not from the same universe. In mine his hair is longer, eyebrows too.”

Victor's eyes squint as he gives the two of you a look of disbelief. “You are aware this sounds like a crock of shit.”

“You're a mutant living in a world where there's super soldiers and planetary travel but alternate universes are where you draw the line?”

Logan sniggered at your response, looking over to Victor. “In both our worlds being a mutant wasn't a good thing. I ain't saying this world is perfect. There's still racism and homophobia and all other sorts of hate but in ours we were the most targeted group.”

“People sold mutants in the streets in mine.” You shoved the memory out of your mind. “There was this country Magneto had - a safe haven - but even that wasn't completely safe from the humans.”

Victor considered the words, silently chewing his food. “What did we do about it then?”

Logan puffed air out of his mouth. “You and I fought in wars mostly, we, uh, we differed. You liked the fight too much. We met again later and were on opposite sides.”

He frowned. “So you were with the humans?”

“No. But I didn't want to kill them all or enslave them. You were part of a group that wanted that. Don't get me wrong, you were your own man but you did work with them.”

“I fought you.” You chimed in. “It wasn't easy. You're fucking strong.”

Victor smirked. “What is your ability?”

“Force fields.”

Logan scoffed. “It's more than that. She can bend them to her will, create shapes, fight with them.”

“Oh, yes and Lo' I've just discovered that I can do this.” You recalled, forming the newer field around yourself. “Apparently you can't see me but I can see me.”

Logan's eyes were massive, his fork landing on the plate below. “Y/N? W-thats a new power!”

You released yourself. “Yes, I was having a horsey dream-” translation: nightmare “-and I did this then I spoke about it at therapy because it feels different - it's like a warm blanket around my body - and Dave told me I was invisible.”

“That's- that's incredible.” Logan's grin was so wide you were worried it would hurt. His hand squeezed yours tightly.

“I bet it has something to do with Stark altering me. So, Tony Stark changed my DNA because I got stabbed a little bit and he was upset that Logan called him in the early hours.”

“A little bit stabbed?” Logan sassed.

“Laura didn't mean it.”

Victor just watched you both, appreciating the background knowledge but still fairly clueless.

“Victor, Laura is our daughter. She's from another universe. One where they cloned Logan. She has claws too.” You supplied, addressing Logan. “She did actually respond, Lo', should be here tomorrow in the afternoon.”

He wiped his mouth with a thumb. “That's good, been a while since I've seen the kid.”

After that there was a natural lull in the conversation, the only sound being cutlery and mouth sounds until you asked, “What about you Victor? Tell us about your life.”

The man's eyes enlarged and he scratched his chin.

“Uh, my father - Thomas - was a groundskeeper in the Northwest, he had an affair with his employer so life was good until it wasn't. And that was at the same time that my mutation began to reveal itself too so shit hit the fan for us. We survived, I lived a lot longer than him. I fought in the Civil war, World War I and II, Nam. Uhm, like in your experience, I was not well received back in the Northwest due to my mutation, so it's good to see the changes in how humans treat mutants.”

“Have you got any family? Friends?” You pushed.

“I keep in contact with some of the War buddies - Steve, James, Isaiah, Grimm, Rex and Frank but I’ve never felt the need to settle. Outlive them anyway.” The last sentence was said with such a final tone that you didn't want to pry any more.

After the meal had been eaten, you spent longer at the table merely chatting about anything and nothing. Victor told you as he rose with his plate that the meal was “tolerable” with another pointed wink.

~~

Logan's eyes hadn't left you since you began your nightly routine. He watched you from the lip of the bath, mirroring your own actions hours ago.

"I barely survived out there." He told you as you cleaned your face.

"No?" You quirked a brow.

"You were all I could think about." He confessed without a hint of embarrassment. "I hated being apart. I don't want to be apart again."

Your cheeks warmed. "We don't have to be."

"I know." He hopped up and wrapped you into a hug, watching you in the mirror. "You're beautiful."

"What do you want?" You chuckled, suspicions growing.

Logan kissed your shoulder. "You, always."

You watched, more than felt, as his right hand slowly made its way downwards.

It took little to no effort in slipping under the sleep shorts and caressing your pussy. Your breath stuttered as he cupped you but not wholly because of the action but because of the determination in his eyes.

He had missed you.

Logan's fingers played with you and you let your head fall backwards, leaning on him, mouth agape.

"Look at yourself, look how fucking hot you are." He nipped your ear. "How long's it been since I smelt like you?"

He entered his middle finger, met with slight resistance. You hadn't had the energy to fool around so it had been a hot minute since anything was in you.

Logan pumped his hand, finger sliding deeper. You whimpered as he met knuckle.

You'd missed this.

Missed Logan making you cum and forgetting all else. When you were bouncing on his dick was when you were happiest.

He kept the slow rhythm, carefully introducing his ring finger, and you were more relaxed than you had been in a long while.

Logan watched the tension ebb from you. Noticed the weight leaving your shoulders as you melt into his chest.

Briefly the short speech of your pharmacist echoed in your mind, telling you that these pills come with side effects - one being that it may take a while to climax. But then Logan licked your neck and you were back here. Fuck that noise, this was real and this was happening.

"He's jealous." Logan whispered, the hand that was settled on your hip pinched your left nipple. "He could smell how sweet you were."

"Hmm?"

Logan bit down on your neck, biting and sucking the flesh, marking you to high heavens before the skin faded back to its natural colour. "Fuck Stark."

"Logan, everyone knows I'm yours." Your eyes felt heavy with how relaxed you had become.

"Need to show them." The rhythm picked up and he kneaded your breast.

You released a breathy noise in response.

"Wish I kept my dog tags." Logan was genuinely upset. "Kept thinking about you in nothing but them." His hips shifted against you and you arched your spine.

"You thought about me?" When had your eyes shut? Either way you opened them to watch Logan lost in your pleasure.

"Every damn minute." He answered. "Nothing different."

"I missed you." Your eyes fluttered closed as your mouth opened, a moan tumbling out.

Logan's chest vibrated with his groan. "I love you."

He cranked the dial up to 11 and pinched your clit with his left hand so you could only reply with a nod. Logan kissed your neck in apology for being harsh to her but he could never say he wouldn't do that again. Not after your aroused yelp.

With a hand in you, the other paying attention to your clit, his mouth leaving open kisses on your neck and his own growls you were a goner.

Pussy pulsing around his fingers as you fell into his back. Your orgasm taking it out of you.

@killerwendigo @littlecrowtime @geeksareunique @lovelyvaderx @br3nt-12 @st1nkabutt @maximumchilddreamland @catiwinky @ravenmedows @electricreader @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @bisasterbisexual @tzurue @narniansmagic @seamlessepiphany @4ria790 @caramelatae @mei-simp @slightlymediocree @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @the-ruler-of-death

Logan - with an arousing amount of ease - bent to pick you up and carry you over the threshold into your room.

.

.

Part 17

[levwrites]

Deadly Haven (part 2)

Part 1

An injured, hunted hero hides in his former lover's safehouse to catch a breath. Unfortunately, his presence is soon noticed by said ex-lover.

TW: attempted self-harm (suicide)

Villain walks to him, confident. There are no weapons in their hands, they are not even in tactical gear - just their more casual outfit.

Hero keeps backing away, moving trajectory before he can bump into a wall. He needs to keep some distance between them. If he ends up having to do what he fears he'll have to, he'll need Villain to be far enough away to not be able to stop him.

After a minute of going in circles, Villain stops with a small huff: "Enough running, Hero."

Hero's eyes narrow slightly. "Stop trying to catch me, then."

Anger comes back to Villain's dark, unforgiving eyes. "You ran, and now you're here. You came to me."

Hero shakes his head quickly, eyes on them. "I just needed a place to lay low for a couple hours." He knows how Villain's thought process works. He remembers how he became theirs in Villain's mind all those years ago. "I didn't mean to... inconvenience you. You were supposed to be elsewhere." Panic and frustration mix in his voice.

Villain seems equally frustrated, as if Hero's stubborness were a source of endless annoyance for them. "What's your plan, Hero?" they try to reason with him, despite the growing need to just grab what's his. "You cannot run again. There's nothing for you outside but seeking eyes and bullets."

He can see it in Villain's eyes. The knowledge that they're right. Hero has been deluding himself. There's never been a way out.

His hand clenches on the knife.

Villain's eyes flicker to it, then back to Hero's eyes.

"Do you want to fight, Hero?" Soft words. Like velvet wrapping around Hero's throat.

Hero remembers that tone in very different contexts. He shivers, despite himself, and Villain smiles seeing it.

They offer a hand, palm up, skin bared. "Come, Hero." Eager. "No more running."

Hero shakes his head again, taking another step back. "No." He's not going to end up on the other side of Villain's knives. He knows very well what they can do to people. And when it's personal...

Villain's eyes narrow. "No?" they repeat, slowly, like they couldn't understand the word.

Hero feels a shiver go up his spine. This time, it's pure animal fear.

Villain really didn't like that.

But even he can't expect Hero to willingly go to the slaughter.

The terror comes as a surprise, despite it all. Hero feels trapped. A trapped Hero is a dangerous Hero.

He doesn't want to do it. Not in front of Villan. Not at all.

But he won't be tortured by them. He refuses.

Villain takes another half step forward, hand still outstretched. "Hero." Soft, almost soothing. "Come on." Such a sweet offer for such a terrible fate.

Hero lets himself feel love for Villain, for the first time since he left them. Allows it to fill his chest like it once used to. His expression becomes one of such sweet pain, for a moment. Affection and hurt softening his features.

Hero has always known he was Villain's. It doesn't mean Villain gets to do as they please with him.

His muscles tense a split second before he goes to slash at Villain's outstretched hand, hoping it will make them lean back, go on the defensive.

He just needs a second.

He raises the knife to his own throat, determination in his eyes. He sees Villain's eyes widen, sudden understanding dawning in them. For the first time since Hero has known them, there's a hint of panic in their expression.

As Hero starts to drag the blade against the fragile skin of his neck, Villain rushes forward with a speed Hero didn't know they possessed.

A firm, too-strong hand wraps around Hero's wrist and drags it away from his throat, clenching until the bones grind together and it hurts.

They moved too fast.

"Stop." Their voice holds an unnatural echo, a firm command.

No no no no no-

Hero panics. He starts struggling, breaths too quick, eyes wide. Villain's hold feels like steel, their body a wall of solid stone.

The knife clatters to the ground.

The sound of Hero's fate closing in on him.

Part 3

[babyangelsky]

BL Challenge 2k24 ✨Day 8✨

Hello and welcome to @negrowhat's 15 Day BL Challenge! Full challenge can be found here.

The Trope You Hate Except When It's "This Series": Forced Separation with a Time Skip Cherry on Top

♡ gif by @radishayuan from this set

Except when it's My Only 12%

This show. This show is the source of the majority of my beef with New Siwaj and yet, I love it beyond words. I really do. It's the third BL I ever watched and it has a special place in my heart. I don't know what the hell P'New puts in his shows that makes them hit like nothing else. I have to be in a very specific mood to rewatch this show but when I get into that mood, I have to rewatch it because nothing else will do.

Now let me just say, I truly and incandescently hate the forced separation trope, but it's so much worse when there's a time skip added in. When it's done poorly, it's usually because the writers wanted to throw in a last second conflict before the end of the show (usually in episode fucking 11) just so they can resolve it in five minutes in the finale. I hate it and it needs to die.

Even when it's not done poorly (because it's rarely done well) it's usually still frustrating and devastating. Like what did I personally do to deserve this? Someone is always going to study abroad or getting transferred abroad or making a deal with someone's disapproving parents or moving to the U.S. and going radio silent for FIVE YEARS GAO SHI DE WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON Y—

*ahem*

But! My Only 12% is the only show I've seen where the separation and time skip don't only work, but are necessary. I just really wish it had been done better.

♡ gif by @loveisactivated from this set

As heartbreaking as Cake and Eiw's separation was—and fuck, it was brutal—I do really feel like it needed to happen. Eiw's entire universe revolved around Cake and his entire sense of self was tied to Cake. Eiw needed to grow and I don't think he would've been able to do so nearly as well if Cake and the comfort zone he provided were there for him to fall back on. Cake's absence didn't only give him the space to become a more self-possessed person, it forced him to become one, even if initially it was for Cake's sake.

Which is why I'm so sad we got to see so little of that separation, and therein lies my beef with New; if the show hadn't turned into an anti-smoking PSA and had everyone crying for the last two episodes, there would've been enough time for both the separation and for Cake and Eiw's relationship to develop after they got together.

Cake wasn't gone for even one entire episode! Yes the time skip needed to be condensed, but the four years they spent apart were an important part of the story! There needed to be more time dedicated to them. If they'd spent just one more episode with Cake and Eiw separated, we could've seen more of their development.

I wanted to see my sweet boy Eiw grow up and become more confident and make new friends and adjust to university. (I also wanted more of him and Title but that's purely selfish because I'm a Title Tanatorn girly and I can't believe I didn't get to see them kiss even once) I wanted to see Cake really coming to terms with the fact that he was always in love with Eiw and with his sexuality. I wanted to see him miss Eiw the way we saw Eiw miss him.

♡ gif by @loveisactivated from this set

Their reunion would've ultimately hit that much harder and been that much sweeter if only we had been given a chance to really sit with their separation.

Not to mention that because the pacing was done the way it was and because we got the ending that we got, we only had like five minutes of Cake and Eiw's boyfriend era before everyone started crying! THAT IS CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR, NEW!

♡ gif by @krystaljungs from this set

Look at them! We deserved to see more of this! We deserved more of them just being happy and disgustingly in love! After all that pain and pining you're only going to give me five minutes of happiness?! You're going to hurt my queer feelings for half a show with the sweetest childhood friends to lovers arc I've ever seen and then drop the ball and not make it up to me?! NEW WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON Y—

[kanouseis]

Kamen Rider Saber and Primitive Dragon

Ever since finishing Saber, I’ve thought a lot about the relationship between Touma and Primitive Dragon and how the corresponding mini-arc relates to both Saber as a whole and Touma himself. I've been wanting to write a proper post about it for some time, so now enjoy attempted curated thoughts!! Please keep in mind its mostly all just how I read/interpret certain things. Spoilers for the entire show ahead.

A lot of the second arc of Saber (or really, Saber past episode 13) sees Touma pushing aside all the grief and pain he feels: over Kento’s death but also all the people losing their loved ones to the Megid that he meets – this is especially emphasized in in episode 21. He’s shown extremely frustrated by his failure to help.

The same episode makes a point about how the way swordsmen deal with their burdens is carrying them on their swords and using the people they couldn't save/the knowledge that they cannot save everyone as (a source of) strength, so to speak. Touma saying he wants to save everyone and everything is a way of denying the reality they all face. 

He doesn't carry his burdens on his sword either, that's why it doesn't echo. During their fight in 21, both Daishinji and Ogami point out that Touma relies so much on his Ride Books that his sword does not echo. To me, this is also an allegory for Touma clinging to stories without facing reality. Stories are a popular source of escapism, after all, and Touma talks about how they're a source of hope and strength for him in episode 46 and Trio of Deep Sin. 

While Saber makes a big point about how stories are exactly this, yes, and how that is what makes them so valuable, the point here is balance. It's only after Touma faces how he truly feels, what he truly wants (to never see anyone make such a sad face again) and what is possible that his sword does end up echoing a little. The honesty and shift in objective is what lets him synchronize with Rekka and unlock its ability to separate people and Megid, as well as win Daishinji’s trust, as the first of the Sword of Logos members.

So Touma has taken steps towards facing his pain in a more upfront manner. And then Primitive Dragon comes into play.

Primitive Dragon forces Touma to externalize his emotions. in a very destructive way because that's what the dragon thinks is the only way. After all, as Master Logos says in episode 24, "because it cannot be understood, it shall continue to destroy". This power is too much for Touma. In a way, it's the spiritual opposite of how Touma was before episode 21. Full-on physical destructive power, when before it was the magical Wonder Ride Books alone. Reliying on nothing but yourself versus relying on stories written by someone else. The imbalance of power and control shows in both the way Primitive Dragon fights and the way the suit itself is designed, with a singular claw clutching the Brave Dragon Book forming most of the chestplate (which is also reflected in the design of the corresponding Ride Book).

It is my belief that Primitive Dragon sees in Touma someone that might understand him, and this is confirmed in the production notes for episode 27: "It was a sad story of a dragon who was left alone and wanted a companion even after death". In the same episode, Touma also mentions that “the boy was worried about me”. After all, Touma is also someone who is very lonely and experiencing a lot of loss, especially during this arc. This is why the dragon reaches his hand out to Touma in episode 26 – he (thinks he) understands, and so he wanted to befriend Touma. And I think that he also wants to help. The Primitive Dragon Book mainly appears to take over Touma when he's in a pinch/struggling/suffering. It’s the most clear in episode 26 itself, when Touma is faced with what Kento has become. When Touma meets the dragon boy after having just faced all of Kento’s despair, Touma is overcome with pain. It is so bad, so overwhelming that he's just kneeling on the ground, silently crying. When the boy reaches his hand out, Touma merely looks up at him, and then just hangs his head again, which leads to the boy turning away and leaving. 

Another interesting detail is the animation for whenever Touma henshins into Primitive Dragon. It shows the dragon's upper body appearing behind Touma and hugging him in a way that overtakes all of Touma – yet, it still is a hug.

Everything culminates, of course, in Touma’s decision to save the boy. He isn’t sure why at first, he doesn't know how – but he still tries.

This involves Touma reaching out towards the boy, no matter how many times he gets burned. When Touma asks if the dragon can tell him why he’s so sad, he reacts with anger and yells that a human couldn’t ever understand. This sentiment is one that he has deeply internalized, as per Master Logos’ words, and I think that after Touma “rejected” him in episode 26, Primitive Dragon has only grown more disillusioned. It is only after Touma fights through the flames and presses himself against the dragon (which looks pretty much like a hug) that the dragon stops. This time, when Touma asks him why he’s so sad, he listens and tells his tale. 

Touma’s response to the boy’s despair is to empathize and speak of hope. He continues the story of Primitive Dragon that was thought to have ended in sorrow and gives it a happy ending. He gives the boy all he’s wanted this entire time – friends. Touma makes the elements of nature his friends and it brings the boy’s smile back. This is why Elemental Dragon is named and themed the way it is – it’s the friend Touma has found for the boy. That’s what Elemental Dragon is. And Touma too, of course, becomes the boy’s friend. Them shaking hands leads to the creation of the Elemental Dragon Ride Book. Much like its predecessor Primitive Dragon, the hand element is very present in the suit and gadget design. This time, though, it’s two hands, holding each other, supporting each other – it’s all balanced.

But it’s not just Primitive Dragon that regains hope during this – Touma does, too, I think. As mentioned earlier, Touma also experiences a lot of loneliness during this arc. People he fought alongside before end up going against him and especially Kento positions himself against Touma too after his return, an event that is shown as soul-crushing for Touma. There is also the fact that Touma loses control whenever he is possessed by Primitive Dragon, giving him nightmares about possibly killing all of his friends. Even despite having rewon the trust of some at that point, that still isolates Touma, in a way. I think that it’s poignant that 27 is the episode after which Rintaro essentially makes up his mind to join Touma’s side. In the end, becoming Primitive Dragon’s friend is healing for Touma, too – friendship is not a one-sided thing, after all – and additionally, that starts to lead to him regaining another important bond as well.

The decision Touma makes here is not just important to this specific part and story within Saber, but to the show as a whole. It literally saves Touma’s life during episode 47. Episode 46 has a very dramatic, cynical ending, with Touma being tossed into a deep pit by Storious, a character epitomizing nihilism, even after all the fight Touma had put up, after his long speech about what stories mean to him. His heroic moment was interrupted, the figure of hope lost in the dark, the story over. But the next episode shows Touma being saved by the Primitive Dragon Ride Book, the boy saying the following:

It is truly only fitting that Touma is saved from despair by someone he’d saved from despair before himself (and this is not exactly the first time it has happened, either, think Kento’s appearance in episode 15) – if you look at their positions in the above image and compare it to similar shots from episode 27, this time the boy is on the right side instead of Touma, the side of the sun, the side that gives hope. And with the power of a story, a happy ending that Touma gave to Primitive Dragon himself. This is a preliminary to how Saber itself ends, with Touma writing the story of the world again, rewriting the future to have a happy ending, one where the world is saved and Touma can be with his friends.

Saber, at its very core, is about the value of hope. Pretty much every major antagonist (as well as Kento, his father and Primitive Dragon by extension) experiences great despair and comes to the conclusion that there's only a specific path for the world to take. That there is only one possible ending, and that it has to be accepted, even if it's full of despair. Another common denominator amongst those characters is that they act on their own and/or have no true bond with the people around them – and Saber is indeed themed around connection, as stated here. Against that stands Touma with his belief in hope and the changeability of the future. His catchphrase exemplifies that: “I’ll be the one to decide how this story ends.” That is not a statement of selfishness, but one that represents his refusal to give up. Touma also believes in the value of connection (which the promises stand for!) and friendship. Stories gave him all of these things, which is why they are precious to Touma no matter what. So it is beautiful to me that throughout the course of Saber, Touma both saves with the power of stories and is saved by them/the people he’s saved, all while holding onto his beliefs and the strength hope.

[magewolf-the-artist]

Yeah so I decided to update Susan's ref sheet because oh my god it's so fucking ugly-

But yeah, I'm much more satisfied with this one because I've developed my style for drawing these fuckers a lot better and the pose radiates more personality.

Old ref: https://www.tumblr.com/magewolf-the-artist/743345425139040256/on-this-episode-of-walten-files-brainrot-heyyyyyy?source=share

Here's her bio with a couple add-ons:

Apparently she's British (Her accent is still a mystery to me but I've seen a couple people say this so ehhhh). So my headcanon is that her family immigrated to the US when she was four, so while she does have an accent, she doesn't really say any slang. Occasionally she might call someone a twit (affectionate) or a twat (derogatory), but that's about it.

At some point during her fun little maze adventure, the neck cables that held up the animatronic head snapped due to the constant pressure of Susan's broken ass neck forcing her head to loll to the side. While at the facility she found that she can use metal ties to hold the cables upright. She has to tighten them constantly though or else her vision will be forced into portrait mode

Ashley fixed the cable while she, Kevin, and Hilary were there and Susan is forever grateful to her

She probably accidently breaks it again through something stupid like bumping her head against the door frame or something and boy oh boy was she PISSED

On that topic, she tries her best to upkeep her and everyone else's bodies but there's only so much she can do with limited tools and slightly worse motor skills (imagine doing a task that requires very precise movements through winter gloves and you'll pretty much get the idea)

She refuses to repair Bon though and tells him to figure it out himself.

She's become way more snappy, short tempered, and easily frustrated after her death. Trauma, baby!

Susan kinda acts as a shoulder to vent to whenever anyone needs to talk. She can’t really offer much in response or comfort since A, she’s the type to push things away and compartmentalize, and B… well, she can’t exactly promise everything’s gonna be okay, now can she? Still, sometimes it’s nice to just talk

Some days though she just kinda… shuts down emotionally. Just kinda lays on the floor and can’t find any motivation to get up or do anything. Thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, staring blankly into space

Charles usually stays with her during these episodes and depending on the day, he either just sits with her quietly or rambles about random shit like he did when they were alive

Her sleep schedule was super fucked up when they all came to the facility because she was used to being up and around at night. It's gotten better but she still sometimes wakes up buttfuck early and has come to appreciate the serenity of the nights (RETCONNED)

Probably the most casual about her death, as opposed to Rosemary's crying and Charles desperately trying to change the subject

She walks with a very distinctive shuffle, something she picked up from her fun little maze adventure because the weird shuffle walk helped lessen the pain she put herself through and conserved energy. It used to be a lot more pronounced but it's faded slightly overtime

Usually hangs out with Charles

Is constantly exasperated by Charles' antics

To pass the time she either plays card games with Charles or organizes the tools in the maintenance closet

She tried to talk to Rosemary when they were first brought to the K-9 facility but only got silence in return. She's kinda just given up now and mostly leaves her alone

Is the most familiar with Bon's abilities and didn't even bother trying to escape the facility because she knew it was futile

Helps coach everyone but Rocket on how to move

When helping Ashley figure out to move she probably made an off-handed comment like, "if you think that's hard, imagine having to learn how to do this while being alive" and only realized Ashley had no context for that when she gave her a very confused and worried look

Hates Bon's guts and is usually annoyed/angry with him

She also hates Felix's guts, but everyone does so it's not anything special.

[cambriancrew]

Your syscourse questions post mentioned Ameda Grace was interested in “The inadequacy of imagination especially in regards to solidifying your sense of self” and that sounds really really interesting. What’s that all about??

Grace: So! For most of my life, I've been more or less primarily existent in a malleable headspace/piece of the innerworld, in a way common to many tulpas/parogens with wonderlands. Malleable in the sense that you think it and it exists. I've had plenty of little adventures there, lots of flying and pretend danger and general nonsensicalness. Been queen and pirate queen and astronaut and archeologist and explorer.

But none of that really affected me, the true me. Sure I enjoyed every minute of it, and it kept me safe from source memory pain, but. It didn't have any actual challenges, nothing to test myself against except artificial constraints that I could shuck off at any time.

Since aging up and becoming a regular real Crewmate, I've had real challenges, both in the paracosm (completely separate from the headspace I lived in) which is as non-malleable as the external world, and in the external world. And within the system, as we have differences of opinions that can't be easily resolved. And competing, conflicting needs and wants. These things have pushed me to really analyze my views, work on things that have real lasting meaning, and especially when switched in and fronting, a way of figuring out how I respond to real challenges at work and in our social life, challenges that can't just be handwaved away. And though it's decidedly less pleasant than the headspace was, it's made me feel more real than I ever was before.

Which isn't to say that headmates who only live in the innerworld are less real. Not in any way, shape, or form. I'm saying only how I feel as a person, that I feel more solidly myself now. And I feel that it's largely in part due to being truly challenged in worlds that aren't run on pure imagination. Having real responsibilities and challenges, conflicts and opportunities to choose things to do that have a lasting effect. And it's just as solidifying when I spend time doing things in our solid paracosm as in the solid external world here. Trying to tutor little Alice in elementary math or writing or science (she's a great learner, I'm just not a very good teacher. Although she cheats by getting the answers from our shared memory pool - but she still has to actually learn it so she can show her work.) is just as much effective on my sense of self as is working at our job and figuring out how to say things politely and effectively to customers who are upset or frustrated, and dealing with conflict between coworkers. Those are things that require me to really think, not just from my perspective, but envisioning other people's perspectives and understanding them better.

And all this has helped me grow.

And another thing is, I'm affected by body and brain trends as well, now that I'm in the body and using the shared brain more. My thoughts are less all over the place and while they're still multithreaded — thanks ADHD — they're much more focused and clear, and I enjoy that.

And then there's things that are more traits and characteristics. I was a much simpler, less faceted person before. Now I'm more complex. I'm still very much an imaginative sort with a tendency to just say whatever is on my mind, but I'm now much more aware of when it's okay to daydream. When to be quiet and let other people talk, or just sit in silent focus. I'm more spiritual, kinder and less abrasive, and I just feel more me. I'm not the person I was made based on, and I'm not the person I used to be when I was first made, and the person I am today may be different from the person I am tomorrow or next week.

Wonderlands and malleable headspaces are beautiful, don't get me wrong. I'm still fond of mine.

But this, here? This talking to external people and fellow headmates instead of just my brother and imaginary people? This interacting with things that have a lasting effect on the world? It's having a lasting effect on me. And I like that.

[thesixthplaneteer]

OC-tober day 2 - New OC

My newest character I'd call an OC is Ralph, the love interest and coterie-mate to my wife's character Khloe in the VTM game I'm STing for, The Poisoned Peach. Ralph is a spiced up self insert and has been a blast to play.

A factoid about him is his full name is Randolph Gaylord King IV. He's a thin blood but has the clan curse of his Nosferatu sire. My goal when playing him is to be the coolest and dorkiest guy in the room. I wanted to write something focused on just the boy but also wouldn't be any spoilers for my wife, so here is his embrace! I hope you enjoy!

The warm summer night air blew hard, causing him to stumble as he drunkenly tried to navigate a city he’d never been to before. Ralph took a deep breath and tried to focus on his phone which had directions to his hotel on it, but his head was swimming and his vision blurred. “Fuckin’ Marta ass,” He half slurred and grumbled out loud. “Last train at midnight ass.” He switched to his Instagram to check how posts from earlier in the night were doing. 

There were several posts of him posing with other Instagram celebrities, nearly all he could not remember the names of. The more popular people he’d posed with got his own posts better hits, as he thought they would. Annoyingly, the pic he took of someone taking his prosthetic foot wasn’t doing well. It was an embarrassing situation he’d hoped to monetize but obviously it wasn’t as interesting as the barely concealed female presenting nipples in his other pictures. 

He soon looked up and realized he had no idea where he was. “Fuuuuuuck.” He let out in frustration as he quickly looked back to his phone, pulling up the directions again... just to see that he’d overshot his hotel by over a mile somehow. “Fuck two electric boogaloo. Fuck it, I’ll Uber-loo.” Grumbling in resignation, he tried to find the app.

He opened his eyes after what felt like a long blink. His head throbbed and it felt like there was a knife twisting in his stomach. He choked on the smell of shit and piss that saturated the air. He blinked to clear his vision but the room was dark. His blood ran cold as the years of military training started to kick in. He kept silent and slowly felt around to get an idea of where he might be. His prosthetic was gone, there was a slimy substance on most surfaces, he could hear rats squeak and scurry. He prayed he was wrong, but he put the clues together and figured he was in the sewer. 

Pulling himself up against the wall, he gripped at his stomach as the twisting pain persisted. Like an insane hunger he’d never experienced before. “The fuck!?” He mumbled as he felt a sharp stab suddenly in his belly, the source directly from his own fingers. He rubbed at their tips, and felt that his nails had become extended and pointed. “What the fuck!?” His heart started to pound in his chest, and he struggled to hold back panic. 

He didn’t have much more time to his own thoughts, as suddenly a light flashed on. It wasn’t a particularly bright bulb, but in the pitch black of the room, it may as well have been the sun. He blinked rapidly to combat the trauma to his eyes and clear his vision. He couldn’t see anyone, but his fear of being in the sewer was confirmed. 

“Who’s there?” He choked out. There appeared to be no one, but someone had to have turned the light on.

“Oh poor Randolph. So scared when not surrounded by your bimbos and himbos.” A voice like grinding stones said from seemingly nowhere. 

Ralph spun and looked around. He saw no one, even the rats were silent now. 

“What did you do to me!?” Ralph yelled out, feeling a white hot anger rise within him. 

“I made you one of us! One of the normies. I ripped you down from your pristine pedestal and humbled you. Now you’ll know the same pain me and my brethren have felt all our lives!”

Ralph turned to now see a creature standing where there was nothing before. Dark, beady eyes peered out from beneath a hood. Its skin was mottled gray, its teeth crooked and jagged. Its wicked smile was so wide it seemed like his lips would split. It held a mirror in its hand and raised it above its own head to meet Ralph’s gaze. 

A cold numbness went through Ralph's body as he saw what he knew was him, but refused to believe it. His eyes were black and amber, his nose upturned and bat-like. His hair was just wisps of what was. His skin was splotchy. His nails were black and grown out like claws. 

The creature beyond his own reflection was smiling and speaking. Making grand hand gestures. But all Ralph could hear was the beating of his own heart in his ears. All he could feel was the desire to drain the creature dry. The thought of opening its throat and drinking from it like a fountain. Ralph’s eyes darted down to the floor as the creature spoke to him. He keyed in on a broken brick in the path between him and it. When the creature turned and its eyes were not on him, he made his move.

“You’re stricken, so stupid, you can’t even speak-” 

The final words he heard as his body lurched forward. He leapt and pushed off the ground with his hands like a feral beast. The creature’s eyes and his own met before the first blow was struck. All of that confidence was gone. Fear was on its face, soon followed by brick. The first strike was hard and threw the creature off balance, the mirror it held falling and breaking on the concrete. It sputtered out something but Ralph was quick to keep pressing the advantage, slamming the brick into its face again, bringing it to the ground. It was like hitting a sand bag. The contact was solid but it was obviously not doing the amount of damage he expected. Still, he was unrelenting. He was on top of the creature before it could get up. It tried to throw him off, and was almost successful, the scrawny frame of the creature hid its strength well. Whether through pure rage or muscle, Ralph stayed on top and beat the creature until the brick crumbled to dust. 

“Get him off me!” The creature cried out in panic. 

Ralph didn’t take the time to register the cry for help. He started to go in with fists where the brick failed. But his arm was stopped, an iron grip on his wrist catching him mid-swing. He tried to spin and punch the sudden second attacker, but they grabbed his other hand as well. This one was bigger and more monstrous than the other. A cleft lip revealed teeth befitting a cryptid rotting within its mouth. Its eyes were a bright red that almost shined. There was no nose on its face, not even nostrils. Its ears were elongated and several inches of lobe hung down from them. 

The fight left Ralph as he realized he wasn’t walking away from this. He went limp in the new creature’s grasp. Somehow, it was able to speak clearly through the cleft lips and monstrous teeth.

“The kid is a shit and what he did wasn’t right. But I can’t let you kill him. That’s for someone else to decide.” His voice was soothing and warm. “Name’s Jorge.” 

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: (Follow up to post 698753602168242176) Hello there! 23m INFJ here. I'd first like to say that I'm extremely grateful for your patience with my previous asks. The insight you provided into my stack–particularly around the theme of having a lack of integrity–has given me much to think about over these (almost two!) years. I want to ask for your insight on a roadblock I've encountered multiple times in the therapy I've been receiving over the past year.

In almost every single session, I come fully prepared: I rehearse a list of 'problem topics' to discuss with my therapist in-session, and try to mine as much insight as I can from them before I discuss. My therapist prefers an unstructured kind of approach, allowing me to form what the sessions look like, and I have preferred having a 'route' of scenarios that link together with common themes, just to ensure that I am effectively using my therapy time.

One issue I've ran into is that we often finish discussion of these topics with plenty of time to spare, leaving me a little lost for words. I believe I am a person who is good at improvising conversation, but in these moments in therapy I run into a complete standstill: my mind draws blank, I have zero perception of what has bothered me, and I am unable to produce anything 'meaningful' for our sessions.

A couple of times, I have asked my therapist: "Do you have any questions for me?" With which he always asks me the same questions: "Why are you here today? What do you need help with? What bothers you right now, in your day-to-day life?" These questions always, always catch me off-guard and I'm unable to answer. I have an extremely poor perception of myself, and usually feel nothing on a day-to-day basis. I try to explain this as best as I can to my therapist, to which he says he understands, but cannot help me if I am not providing a source of conflict/pain/discomfort to work with. This often leaves me extremely upset and frustrated, like I'm a lost cause or incapable of receiving help.

In recent sessions I've tried to be more freeform and less structured, and it does feel like it's helping. However, I do still have this fear that I'm approaching things completely wrong, like it's impossible for anyone to help me if I'm not even sure what I need help for. This lack of self-awareness is nauseating and I don't know how to fix it.

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

Therapy isn't a performance or competition. It's not a place to get judged or judge yourself. It's not a test or exam that you have to prepare the right answers to pass. It's also not an exact science of rules to follow to the letter. Ideally, therapy is a safe space for you to explore freely and gradually raise self-awareness as you discover more about yourself.

Some aspects of the therapeutic process upset you and you stewed about them alone, perhaps because you are in the habit of keeping a tight leash on yourself and can't proceed unless you feel more in control of things. Many Js have a tendency to manage anxiety by imposing structure or control. In the real world, this tendency easily becomes a deeply ingrained habit because you regularly get rewarded for "having it together" or "being on top of things". However, in the therapy world, one of the main goals is to let feelings/emotions rise up and come out freely so that you can explore what they really mean. Therefore, the habit of being too controlled/controlling can work against you in therapy if it basically creates a dam that prevents the deeper parts of your psyche from flowing out.

This might be why approaching sessions in a less structured way is helpful, as you release yourself from the compulsion to control. It allows you to discover important things that you didn't realize needed to be explored. Instead of going off alone to stew about whatever upset you, why not express your feelings as they happen in real-time? Why ask me about it rather than the therapist? Whatever it is you need to happen or want to do, either allow it or communicate about it honestly. E.g. If you don't know what else to say and it starts to make you anxious, communicate your anxiety to the therapist. If the therapist asks questions that catch you off-guard or make you feel bad, then explore the negative feelings right then and there.

In my last response, I said: "If you are indeed INFJ, to get back on the right type development path requires you to confront and resolve the deeper emotional problems that have been festering." This means emotional intelligence is a key factor in your personal growth. It's important that you learn to welcome and embrace feelings/emotions as they come and process them as they exist in the present, rather than ruminating on them after the fact. This also ties in with the issue of integrity; it's hard to maintain integrity when you're not in touch with yourself and listening carefully to your emotional needs.

The habit of keeping feelings/emotions at bay or tightly under control is usually indicative of an underlying fear of them. As long as you fear looking within (or keep trying to obscure what's really happening because you don't like what you see/feel), therapy is going to seem slowgoing. Perhaps you think therapy should be revealing certain truths to you, but, actually, you should be the one revealing the truths. The therapist is only there to reflect your truths back to you with greater clarity. While the therapist has a genuine desire to help, it is an important part of their training to never work harder than the client. They only work with what you give them, so, if it seems as though there's not much happening, it's because you haven't revealed enough of yourself.

This brings us to the most important point of what's really stopping you from revealing yourself. You seem to have an issue with being self-critical. Self-critical people can't stand to look at themselves and they assume others will judge them similarly, which leads to feeling anxious or unsafe in social situations. Many people cope by getting into the habit of hiding all the aspects of themselves that are deemed "ugly" or "undesirable", which often includes all the negative feelings and emotions they don't want to experience. In the end, all that is visible is the mask they've chosen.

Until you can approach yourself with more kindness and compassion, the safety of hiding or obscuring the truth of yourself will always be too tempting. Perhaps self-compassion and self-expression are issues you can work on in therapy. Allow yourself to be human and "imperfect" and drop the facade of control, and then you might find that you have a lot more material to work with.

[dootznbootz]

16 and 19 :>

16: tiny detail in canon you wish more people appreciated.

OOh gosh, SO MANy!!! I'll go with Happy ones.

1.) The fact that when Agamemnon was testing them all. While Odysseus WAS the one who was all like "GET BACK HERE!" he was at first wanting to leave as well. ( he didn't "go to his ship" but he was pained as he probably wanted desperately to go home as well. )

She sped off, raced down from Mount Olympus’s crest, quickly reached Achaea’s swift ships, rushing to the spot Odysseus, a man as wise as Zeus, was standing. He’d laid no hand on his fast, black, well-decked ship. His stout heart was filled with pain.

(Johnston, Book 2 of Iliad)

His heart was in pain! He wanted to go too! It was because Athena was like "GET THESE GUYS!" that he started to bonk the other Achaeans!

2.) Also the fact that he says this to Agamemnon when asking him why he said that "We can go home" 🥺

A man who spends one month aboard his ship, away from his wife, becomes downhearted when winter gusts and stormy seas confine him. This is now the ninth revolving year we’ve been waiting here, on this very spot. So I don’t think that badly of Achaeans in their frustration here by their curved ships. Still, it’s shameful to go home with nothing.   

(Johnston, Book 2)

"You can't blame us for rushing to go home. A man even being one month away from his wife will make him depressed" LIKE??!?!??!1 SIMP! He's fucking OUTING himself!!!

3.) Also in the Odyssey, the fact that he asks for another bed when she first rejects him. To ME, another part of the reason why he's so upset at her "rejection" is kind of because, to me, they were basically flirting while he was a beggar ( he calls her a KING, something you did NOT do when you're a man. as you're basically saying "I'm lesser than you, a woman" ) and so I imagine him being like "Weren't we flirting before?! Because you knew it was me?! I'm no longer covered in blood! Why are you suddenly turning me away?!"

And then he asks for a different bed. While it's assumed that she's still the "boss" as he hasn't been COMPLETELY accepted as the "rightful king yet", he probably STILL could've been like "Uh, no, that's MY bed. I'm going to sleep in it." At this point, Penelope's the ONLY one in the household who has not accepted him yet. He could've been like "Uh, no. I'm going to sleep in MY bed whether you like it or not" but he doesn't!!! He asks for a completely different bed! One that's probably not as luxurious as the one he made. and like??? Idk... it's so small but he really does care about her and respect her. (This is from what I know historically. If someone knows more and is willing to share if this is bullshit. then feel free to! :D )

I have SOOOO many more but I don't wanna search through all the books to find the sources 😅

19: Current fandoms

just.... so MANY. I love a lot of things and have thoughts on many but it's mostly the Odyssey as of right now, (mostly the Ithacan royal family haha), but I also love Fairy Tail and Legend of Zelda! :D Many others include: Pokemon, Avatar (Atla and LoK), Fullmetal Alchemist, many different musicals. Those are the main ones as of now. :D I have a LOT

[errorsorry404]

I often think about how I am very lucky that the first time I saw a person die, it was just in a documentary I was shown in a college class.

I remember being a freshman and being upset that my professor didn’t warn us that we were going to see a real human being’s life ended on a screen. I watched a man get shot in the head and I felt instantly nauseous for the rest of class as it dawned on me that this was not some dramatic film’s practical effects, but a real person’s flesh and blood pouring out of their skull.

It would be a long time before I would see anything so brutal before my eyes on the news, and even then, the act was heavily censored. Perhaps I was also just young and blind to awful things happening all the time. Perhaps I am sheltered and naive. The point being, I would seldom have to actually see people die, until now.

It is just so constant now.

Nevertheless we should not get used to seeing such brutality.

I never thought that I would live to see the such horrors broadcast daily and progressively just becoming worse acts over six months.

On and on and nothing is done about it because "this is what the ruling class has decided will be normal."

Capitalism demands that we be unaffected to the bloodshed and carry on with out days, but we all feel the lingering exhaustion and the tinge of insanity in the backs of our minds. I praise those who refuse to participate in this system.

I must remember to keep my disgust fresh, and never become desensitized to the violence. But at the same time, there is no time to process the horrors before another and another and another one happens. Families are unable find basic food, water and shelter, let alone grieve properly and bury their loved ones respectfully. I think about how frustrated I get during Ramadan as the lack of food begins to affect my body and patience becomes a difficult exercise. I cannot imagine the stress of actually starving while enduring such incredible pains with no source of comfort. Yet I am safe and sound at my stupid little computer just watching, it has nothing to do with me, but it has everything to do with me. I live in the country that supplies pain.

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 12b

*Warning Adult Content*

Prince Charming - Part

"Get off me," Knox orders, slowly withdrawing his hands. "Now."

Everett blinks, confused by the hardened look on Knox's face, a beautiful dark storm brewing in his grey eyes.

"Why? W-what did I do..."

"This," Knox growls.

It's a deep, guttural sound that can't decide if it wants to be one of pleasure or pain.

"This is what you do to me."

He shifts his hips so Everett can better feel the source of his frustration.

"This is how you make me feel. All the fucking time."

"Oh, God. I..." Everett looks down at where his body rests against Knox.

He exhales a shuddering breath upon realizing he's sitting on a raging semi.

"I..." he gulps. "I'm sorry your dick likes me?"

"Always the fucking jokester," Knox softens at the unnecessary apology, taking some of the edge out of his voice as they scramble apart.

It's not Everett's fault that Knox's cock has a mind of its own.

Or that it hasn't gotten any action in weeks.

"Maybe we should tone down all the flirting until we get better control of our bodies? Since they obviously like each other," Everett laughs. "Like, a lot."

"Maybe," Knox mutters, despite the thought of no longer touching Everett and killing all playful banter with him being just enough to destroy him from the inside out.

Fuck. It hits him then.

Could this be what it feels like to have a crush on someone?

That loud, nagging feeling when you want to get to know a person so badly you're willing to change yourself if it means getting closer to them.

That feeling of wanting to learn every minuscule detail about their past and present.

That feeling when they're the first thing on your mind when you wake up and the last thing you think about before going to sleep.

Knox is a lot of things, most of them far from good but a simp to a spitfire twink like Everett?

No fucking way he can ever become that.

Knox Hansley doesn't have crushes.

He doesn't do relationships.

He doesn't do love.

Period.

He opts for living a simple life that consists of him fucking when he gets in the mood and minding his business otherwise.

He knows better than to entertain the delusional dream of a booty call he knows holds no spot in his future. 

Love or at least in the name of it, turned his father into an abusive drunk who died too soon.

Love fooled his gentle mother and destroyed her bright spirit.

Love is nothing but heartache and pain.

So much pain.

Knox has had enough of that in this lifetime.

He's determined not to suffer the same fate as his parents.

It's why he always says to hell with love.

Fuck it along with everything leading up to it. I don't need it. I don't want it. I can't have it. Not with...

Knox comes crashing back down to earth when Everett touches his arm and calls his name.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine." Knox shuts his emotions off and stands to leave the gym.

He doesn't wait to see if Everett follows after him.

The walk back to his bedroom is a quiet one.

Knox is tense for multiple reasons he's afraid to acknowledge, his stomach bustling with what feels like hot coal instead of butterflies.

He rolls his eyes while recalling the deal he'd made with Everett, promising to show him the one place where his demons can't reach him.

But now... now he's thinking that might actually be a terrible idea.

He's right. We should cool shit down for a while. We're getting too close, too fucking personal. I'm supposed to be protecting him. I can't sleep with him. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Knox's mind races a mile per minute, regret and anxiety building in his chest as he stomps his way down the hall.

He freezes on the spot when Everett forcefully grabs his hand.

"Will you turn around and look at me?" Everett whispers, sounding nervous. "Please?"

Knox folds immediately.

He turns around and pulls Everett closer.

"You haven't done anything wrong."

"Then why does it feel like you're pissed at me?" Everett asks. "Whatever I did, whatever I said, I'm sorry. Please don't be upset with me..."

"It's not you, kitten. It's me," Knox lamely confesses. "I brought you here to protect you, to keep you safe. Not to try and get you into my bed. My reaction back at the gym, all the teasing, I took it too far. Again. I'm sorry."

"Wait. Is this about..." Everett's eyes drop to Knox's shorts for a split second. "Oh. I see."

"I want you, Everett. So fucking bad." Knox squeezes his hand before letting it go and stepping back, putting space between them.

"But I can't have you. We shouldn't... I can't..." Knox curses under his breath, shaking his head. "I think it'll be best if you stay in your own room from now on."

"What? No," Everett swiftly objects, stepping back into Knox's bubble and grabbing both of his hands. "Do you think I'm turned off by what happened earlier? You think I'm suddenly uncomfortable being around you alone now? Because I'm not. I swear to God I'm not. That comment I made about us flirting, I was only joking. Is it not obvious that I want you as badly as you want me?"

"Stop," Knox commands, looking more pained than relieved. "The point is that you shouldn't."

"Okay but that's my decision to make, not yours," Everett says, running his steady hands up Knox's arms, settling on his large biceps.

They stare into each other's eyes, both fighting for dominance.

"Whatever happens, happens. Stop trying to prevent that by pushing me away. You aren't God, Knox. You don't know what's good or bad for me."

"Everett..." Knox starts.

"No, I mean it. You know I have no problem telling you to fuck off when I'm not in the mood for your bullshit."

They share a laugh, finally breaking the tension.

"And you have the right to do the same."

"I don't understand you sometimes. Why are you so fucking sweet with me, huh?"

Knox pulls Everett flush against him, one hand resting on the small of his back and the other at the nape of his neck.

"I told you about my past. You know I have blood on my hands, way too many skeletons in my fucking closet. I'm a monster but you insist on getting closer to me when what you should be doing is running away."

"You don't know me well enough yet but I tend to make a lot of reckless decisions. Makes life more exciting," Everett whispers, licking his lips. "Plus, I'd rather have a monster over a Prince Charming."

Knox groans at that, lowering his head to where their foreheads touch.

"Why?"

"Because..." Everett breathes, sucking in the sweet air that Knox exhales. "A Prince Charming could never make me feel the way that you do."

"Everett."

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to kiss you now."

[sinestrosmind]

He Isn't Helping

Summary: "Fear is everywhere, Fireclaw. And so am I."

Warnings: Physical abuse, Mental abuse, Emotional abuse, Anxiety attack?? (Parallax attack), Nightmare, Talk of death, Canon typical violence

Characters: Topaz Fireclaw, Parallax

Wordcount: 2,071

     "One day, you'll be gone." The deep, echoing voice tells the lantern, and he screams. In fear, in pain, in frustration, he didn't know. He's in a void in his mind, the large glowing monster stalking around him, the only source of light in this godforsaken darkness.

     "Stop!" Fireclaw snaps, eyes raw and irritated, face damp and stained from crying.

     "There's nothing you can do!" The monster taunts, and the Levanixian screams again, "Stop it!"

     He feels sick, like he's going to puke, and he feels numb, like he doesn't exist. His eyes feel like they're on fire, his vision is blurry, breathing shallow and ragged, hiccuping time to time as he cowers down again, covering his head with his forepaws. "Stop," Fireclaw begs weakly, voice hoarse from the ordeal. "Please, Parallax. Stop."

     "There's a way to stop it," Parallax starts, voice low as he stalks closer to the broken lantern. "But you're too afraid," the entity curls around Fireclaw, thin tail lightly gripping the tom as the beast leans over his shoulder. "It's rather interesting that fear has kept you alive, yet fear will be you and your love's undoing."

     Fireclaw snaps at the smallest mention of Sinestro, forming a weak construct based in rage instead of fear, lashing out against Parallax with a hoars yowl. The entity de-matieralizes immediately, before forming again behind the lantern, a safe distance away. Fireclaw looks around in a panicked rage before his eyes land on the beast, just sitting there watching him, an unamused expression on his face.

     "Why are you doing this?" Fireclaw asks, tone begging for answers. "Why are you so obsessed with tormenting me? Breaking me?"

     Both lantern and entity were silent, Fireclaw lowering his head after a while. He'd cry more, but he's got nothing left to give. Parallax continued to stare silently at the Levanixian, still seemingly unamused. When next Parallax spoke, his tone was different. Calm, almost remorseful, and not as loud or menacing. "I'm trying to help you."

     Fireclaw shivered, taking a shaking breath, eyes watering but unable to cry. "None of this helps," he whispered. "How is this help."

     "You'll grow numb to your fears," Parallax explained. "You'll learn to accept them, embrace them, instead of push them away, instead of fighting them."

     Again, both fell silent. Parallax could feel red bubbling up in his aura. If he were the entity Nekron, he'd surely see it instead.

     Fireclaw took another shaking breath. "I don't want to die," he told the entity, who sat unphased. "I don't want to lose Sinestro, I don't want to change, I don't want to grow old. I don't want things to change. I want everything to stop- I wish everything would stop," Fireclaw rambled, voice picking up in speed and volume, before he snapped his head up, his ears pinned to his head. "I wish you would stop!"

     "When you accept me, I will stop." Parallax told the lantern, now annoyed. "Or, you'll just become numb to my methods."

     Fireclaw once again screamed in pain, hands on his head as he arched his back in pain or in frustration, or both. Parallax resumed stalking slowly around the poor cat, returning to the menacing tone he had before. "Nobody can save you, Fireclaw. Scream and beg all you want, there is no escape from me or your fate!"

     The cruel grin was back on Parallax's face, claws clicking on the non-existent ground each step he took. "Time will not stop no matter how much you pray for it to, and neither will I!" Parallax lunged, pinning the Levanixian to the ground under a massive clawed hand, a pained, frightened, weak cry ripped from the tom's chest.

     "Sinestro!" the lantern sobbed weakly, eyes shut tight and head turned away from the beast above him. Parallax snarled, and Fireclaw cowered, raising his hands in a pathetic attempt to defend himself from a strike. "Help me!"

     "No!" Parallax roared, making the orange feline shake and whimper. "Sinestro can't help you! Not this time!" and that had pulled another sob from the cat. "Nobody can save you from me!"

     "Get out of my head!" Fireclaw cried, trying now to free himself from Parallax's hold. Useless, but, he can't be told by this beast that he didn't try.

     "No!" the entity roared again, tightening his grip upon Fireclaw and making him wheeze. "You'll never be free of me, Fireclaw! Even if Sinestro rips me from your soul himself, I will always be here, in the back of your mind, repeating our wonderful little song and dance every night until the day you die!"

     And Fireclaw screamed again, a sob following, though this was different. This one echoed faintly, and the tom felt something soft and warm and comforting below him and sunk his claws into it. He tried to cling to it as if his life depended on it, but shrieked in fear and despair as Parallax ripped him away from it. Parallax was off put by the echo, knowing exactly what it meant.

     Will fading, Fireclaw turned to clinging to one of Parallax's claws, rubbing his head against it in a weak, desperate attempt to make himself feel safe, feel some degree of comfort. He was crying again now, having regained enough stamina for that.

     "Just because Sinestro can do something doesn't mean you can." Parallax taunted, knowing that'd make Fireclaw cry harder, and it did. "You're weak, just as your mother said. No backbone. Overreacting. Always worried about things that shouldn't be worried about. Things you can't change."

     Fireclaw had no energy to fight or scream for help anymore, he just clung to Parallax's claw and sobbed, sometimes begging for Parallax to stop, other times begging for Sinestro to save him from this demon.

     "You'll leave this universe and it will carry on without you," Parallax told Fireclaw, ignoring the tom's sobs. "Isn't that terrifying? And imagine, nobody will remember you when you're gone! You have, and will never have, a legacy. You're twenty years old, and have done nothing worth while for your home. Pathetic!"

     The Levanixian's sobs have become weak, and he feels as though he's going to fall asleep. There's a warmth he feels on his face, like he'd buried his face into a pillow or blanket, and instinct has him rubbing his face against Parallax.

     "You're a disappointment to everyone you know." The entity continues to taunt. "Nobody you know truly cares for you, especially Sinestro." And Fireclaw is crying with renewed energy. Parallax gives him just a small moment before he's thrown the cat across the void, swiftly following.

     "You will lose everything and everyone you love!" The entity roared, sliding to a stop above Fireclaw. "If not by my hand or the hand of time, but by your own! And I will make you watch as I ruin your life! You will watch as I use your claws, your fangs, to rip the life from Sinestro!"

     If nothing else broke him, that did. The thought of Sinestro dying terrified him as much as his own future and death did. Fireclaw screamed again, curling up on his side, knees tucked close to his chest, hands covering his ears, form shaking.

     "Stop it," the ginger Levanixian begged weakly, shaking, his voice having the faintest echo. "Stop it, please. No more."

     "I will never stop. When you're on your deathbed, I will be there. I will make you question every choice you've ever made, I will make you fear every last second of your life. Your last breath will be laced with fear, and then your light will fade." Ironic, Parallax speaks of light fading as he himself fades away, giving way to pure darkness.

     "Fear is everywhere, Fireclaw. And so am I."

     The silence that follows Parallax's last words is nearly as deafening as his roars, and Fireclaw lays there, shaking and crying in the darkness and silence, but things start feeling more solid.

     Slowly, Fireclaw becomes aware of himself, of his surroundings. He doesn't feel as numb anymore, and the floor isn't hard. It's soft, warm, and if he could smell right now, it'd smell of gentle spices and woods of some sort that he couldn't think of the names of in his state, but would know he knows. Dry and earthy and familiar and comforting.

     A familiar voice shushes him gently, and Fireclaw is now aware of two arms around him and a form in front of him, his face pressed into the soft cloth covering it. He's now aware of a hand rubbing gentle circles in the fur at the base of his skull, close to one of his ears. The other hand gently scratching his back, just between his shoulder blades.

     He tries to speak, but his breath is so shaky that whatever he was trying to say is rendered incoherent by his breathing. He's hushed gently again, and there's words that follow, the voice so familiar and gentle and comforting that Fireclaw can't help but listen. He buries his face into the form in front of him, trying to get as close as he possibly can, and he feels the arms on him gently tighten as he shifts.

     The tom hears noise, but can't process it. It's quiet, that's all he knows, and it's followed by a gentle, kind, feminine voice. Familiar, just like the voice of the form in front of him. The two voices talk, but Fireclaw can't understand anything. His mind is mush, and it makes him uneasy.

     He feels a weight on his forehead, just between his eyebrows, and it stays there for a few moments, before shifting. It's a comforting gesture, and it works. Between the hand on his back, the hand on the back of his head, the smaller hand that is now on his shoulder rubbing small circles with the thumb, and the weight on his forehead, the Levanixian's breathing levels out.

     "Sin-!" Fireclaw manages to choke out, before his breathing picks up again. Sinestro gently shushes the cat, and he nestles his face into the soft turtleneck sweater that Sinestro was wearing.

     "I'm here," Sinestro says gently, but is immediately followed by a loud, deafening "ALWAYS HERE." from Parallax, echoing in Fireclaw's ears only. The exhausted cat flinched with a pained and frightened whimper, hands moving to cover his ears.

     The Levanixian feels a hand cover his own and gently rub small circles, and notices that the hand on his shoulder had moved. It takes a while before Fireclaw relaxes again, his hands falling from his ears and his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He hears Sinestro say something, gentle and worried, but he doesn't have the energy to care what the worried Korugarian had said.

     Fireclaw didn't have the energy to protest as Sinestro moved to sit him up, propped up with pillows against the headboard. He also didn't have the energy to fight being made to drink, though he was thankful for it after. Once he drank, he started to regain some energy, able to think easier and process things.

     After a few moments, and a few more sips of water, Fireclaw is once again nestled up next to Sinestro, head buried between himself and Sinestro's chest.

     Soranik runs her fingers through Fireclaw's fur, sometimes pausing to scratch behind his ear before continuing to comb through the thick dark ginger fur. "It was Parallax again, wasn't it?" she asks gently, and Fireclaw weakly nods. The young doctor gives her father a worried and sympathetic look, and he sighs softly before once again resting his head atop Fireclaw's.

     Sinestro kisses the feline's forehead again and then rests there, closing his eyes as he holds his love close. Soranik sighs and gives Fireclaw's shoulder a gentle pat. "I'll see you later, buddy." the doctor says before standing up. "When he's more alert, I want you to bring him to the medical center. I need to make sure he's alright, at least physically."

     Fireclaw had no response, but Sinestro gave a hum in agreement. Before Soranik left, she gently tossed the blanket that had been shoved to the side and the floor over the two, getting a quiet, genuinely appreciative "Thank you" from her father.

     It wasn't long before Fireclaw had drifted off to a light state of sleep again, but Sinestro remained awake and by his side, holding the feline close and watching over him as he slept.

[1dgossip]

l*rry tinhatters have been told repeatedly for nearly 15 years that they are one of the main reasons why lo and h are no longer good friends (in my opinion the other reasons why they’re no longer good friends, more than likely not even friends and only acquaintances now, have to do with lo and h just growing up into different people with different values and conflicting outlooks on life). z confirmed as such in one of his interviews after leaving the band that the l*rries’ tinhatting put a strain on lo and h’s friendship and made them behave differently around each other, especially in public. li’s frustration in the attitude interview about the l*rry conspiracy theories speaks volumes (though i do think li mainly had lo in mind during the interview because lo was the one that had a baby on the way and was dealing with the l*rries’ fake pregnancy theory harassment, compounding the stress he already had from unexpectedly becoming a father and the soon to-be-reality of having to co-parent a child with a woman he wasn’t interested in being in a relationship with, and shortly before that lo’s serious relationship with his girlfriend had just ended, el who the l*rries also constantly harassed. not to mention the media circus and the upcoming band hiatus that we now know caused lo quite a bit of turmoil. lo was likely having a hard time dealing with it all for obvious reasons and the l*rries’ tinhatting just made everything worse. li being angry about the l*rry conspiracy theories on lo’s behalf makes sense since li was really close with lo and considered lo his best friend during that time period, and li as a person was just generally really protective of people he loved. li was likely seeing firsthand what lo was going through and how badly things were affecting him). h denied l*rry a few times early on, and lo has repeatedly denied l*rry over the years and said point blank that the conspiracy theories make him angry and confirmed l*rries’ tinhatting contributed to ruining his friendship with h.

but even in the face of explicit denial from trusted sources, l*rries always ignore and dismiss each and every time. without even a shred of convincing evidence they still insist management are closeting lo and h, forcing them to not interact in public even when the band was active. everything said by their bandmates, or even by lo and h themselves, is a lie they’re forced to say by management, that is unless what is said somehow supports the l*rry narrative of course, then their bandmates are dark l*rries and lo and h are so loud about l*rry being real. this has been going on for nearly 15 years. it’s just absolutely insane to think about to be honest. i genuinely wonder if l*rries are at a point where they’re willfully ignorant and just can’t handle ever facing the painful reality that they’ve played a role in destroying lo and h’s friendship, have negatively impacted lo and h’s lives, and have put many of lo and h’s loved ones through years of torment, especially lo and his loved ones. i cannot even begin to imagine how this all will impact lo’s son fr*ddie when he gets older and finds out about the l*rries, their conspiracy theories and everything else they’ve done. i hope lo and br*ana can protect him from that as long as possible.

Amen. It's definitely willful ignorance. They've got to twist everything to fit their narrative. It actually sickens me how many of those people bullied Li after his attitude article statements against them. When he was just looking out for his friend and being protective for all the reasons you said.

And then they'll turn around and big him up and call him or any other band member/celeb a dark L*rrie if they do something that fits whatever narrative that makes sense to them in their head.

For example I saw this on their subreddit the other day:

This has absolutely nothing to do with h&l, but to them it possibly does bc it's about butt sex and it's the color blue.