#SO MUCH REVELED IN THIS SHORT COMIC

[gensnix]

PART 2 Tf2 comp of fav moments of comic 7!

Heavy with a beard Heavy with a beard Heavy with a beard

GOOD LORD HE FUCKS LIKE A CHAMP

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

in conclusion I love them

[hiiikiko]

𝕓𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕤𝕥!𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

ellie williams x reader | mini fic for casual

casual m.list | tlou m.list

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

୨୧ ellie is very musically talented, sometimes she’ll hear a few notes in her head and within half an hour, she’ll have a pretty decent tune

୨୧ she’s the founder of ‘the infected’ she came up with the name when she accidentally cut herself and the cut looked really gnarly n infected and then she was like.. woah that’s a pretty sick name

୨୧ jesse and dina teased her about the same bc it sounds like she’s go a uti

୨୧ it took her awhile to convince jesse and dina to join her band because 1. too much drama and 2. jesse didn’t care for being on stage

୨୧ she coaxed him into it by telling him that dina’s gonna get a lot of fanboys/girls n she’ll leave him in the dust for good

୨୧ she carries her journal everywhere with her in case inspiration strikes when she’s grocery shopping

୨୧ she also carries around a guitar pic because she likes to have something between her teeth and since she’s trying to quit smoking.. this is the next best thing

୨୧ she will NEVER EVER admit this to anyone but the reason why she moved to Seattle to start a band was because of Kurt Cobain (also why she has short hair and wears flannels)

୨୧ everyone should thank joel for him showing ellie nirvana bc without it, she may have never started a band

୨୧ ellie sometimes deprives herself of music because she doesn’t want to make anything that’ll make ppl say “that sounds like <insert band name>” it’s torture but it works

୨୧ ellie would’ve totally been the lead singer but she prefers to write and compose rather than be in the spotlight

୨୧ she wasn’t surprised when the band was starting to get traction (she in fact was and had to take a lap around the room)

୨୧ her fans paint her as this ‘player’ which she kinda revels in bc it gets her more pussy (she actually kinda hates it bc it makes her feel like a bad person but hey GAME IS GAME)

୨୧ she LOVES pop punk shows, one time she saw a bigger band and their show was so crazy, like crowd surfing, people pushing against the barrier, guards having to keep them in the pit, and everyone screaming the lyrics… she hopes her band will be that big one day

୨୧ she loves attending concerts but she can’t help but compare herself to the other bands

୨୧ she’s an audiophile, she goes to best buy just to compare headphones and their sound quality then leaves with nothing (ofc)

୨୧ every ellie in the ellieverse is a nerd, it’s a canon event, this ellie is not only a comic book nerd and a space nerd.. she’s also a GUITAR NERD !! (new ellie unlocked) she knows every type of guitar, yes, even the one that was made a minute ago in new guinea!

୨୧ ellie got her job at the guitar shop she works at bc during the interview, she completely nerded all over the place about the guitars on the walls, the old manager didn’t even need to go further in the interview, he slapped a name tag on her (he messed up and her name is elsie now) and booked it outta there

୨୧ she takes her job very seriously, it’s cute to see her working, it’s like watching a young bill gates talk about his apple products except this bill gates is wearing a raggedy flannel (she says it makes the customers trust her more bc it makes her looks like kurt), messy hair, and glitter from the concert last night

୨୧ she stays up to date on the latest guitars

୨୧ fun fact: she only gets her guitars from joel, her loving dad who runs a guitar/woodwork shop back in jackson :)

୨୧ speaking of joel, he supports ellie’s dream of being in a band because he wanted to be a singer when he was younger and he sees that younger self in ellie, it makes him happy when she talks about the concert she had last night.. it’s almost like he’s talking to his 20 year old self

୨୧ even though joel supports it, it still scares him, he doesn’t want ellie to end up like him

[a/n]: okay that’s all for now!! hope you guys like this mini thingy :3 i’ll write the next part tmrw!!

[obriengf]

My Beloved || Thomas x Reader

Summary: Thomas is filled with emotion as you both seek out a way to show just how much love you truly hold for one another. Words: 7.5k Warnings: SMUT18+!!!, loss of virginity, masturbation, p in v, this is honestly very fluffy and sweet okay  Notes: okay so... this started off good then towards the end i got desperate to finish it and it turns rushed i think?????? a little bad??????? anyway, these guys would have NO idea about sex ed tbh just what they’ve learnt from each other... because i feel like WCKD had better things to do, like brainwashing everyone, instead of teaching kids about the birds and the bees. long story short just go with it and no judging on my smut please i dont write it often!!!

There’s a boy, and he’s so beautiful it hurts. 

Among the fiery glow of the bonfire flames, his eyes luminate with golden specks - so bright, so mesmerising, that you cannot stop staring from beyond the heated curtain. You catch his gaze and the way his smile quirks upward, bashfulness flushing his cheeks and provoking his teeth to sink sinfully into the plusness of his lip. It brings a warmth to your chest - a sensation of adoration, burning hotter than the flames separating you both. It travels to your fingers with an itch that wants you to jump to the boy, embrace him, kiss him, love him. He had been everyone’s saviour, but to you, he saved more than just your life; he brought colour back to your dull days, allowing you to see the vibrancy that radiated with pure intentions from your daily sunlight. He returned hope to your anxious mind and settled the prior need to look over your shoulder for danger every spare second. He made you feel so incredibly loved to the point where you stopped breathing and your heart would swell with anticipating warmth. There’s a boy, and he’s so perfect it hurts, in the most breathtaking way. 

Thomas could feel you staring. He revelled in the way that your eyes sparkled, and how you looked at him as if he put the stars in the sky. He was still getting used to others viewing him as their paladin, but you were different - it was much simpler, housing purity and sincere devotion, seeing the boy as your ending. You fell in love in the wrong place at the wrong time, surrounded by chaos and imminent peril, but the clawing need to stay by the other’s side brought you both to your much-deserved salvation; and better yet, into the forever hold of each other’s arms.

The boy couldn’t understand his emotions as they intensified, but he knew that it was longing. He knew that they yearned for you. He didn’t have the time or space to stop and consider how his body was growing and reacting to being around your own, the desperation to run and hide and fight had eventually become all that he could think about - until it was all over, and you were all safe. Now, those feelings returned and his thoughts drifted to how your kiss has started to ignite something in his gut, and how it spread through his veins to the point where he wanted to dig his fingers into your flesh and never let go. 

It was a topic of conversation that he had previously brought up through loose lips and in between inebriated breaths; Minho on the receiving end with a bit more sobriety, but he was still dazed as he listened with widened eyes and unsplit attention. It was near comic how Thomas had him on the edge of his seat - he couldn’t put into words just how he was feeling, but his friend could see the depth behind the amazed look that glassed over whisky hues and how a curt smile perked at his lips. Minho very much understood that desiring need, the way complete and utter endearment could make a person feel like they were floating effortlessly on cloud nine. Thomas was the first person he went to when he was ready to take that step further with the sweet girl from the kitchens - and now it had turned full circle, and Minho had never been happier that love had struck his closest friends. 

The flames began to die, juxtaposed to the rising moon that now bathed the Safe Haven in beautiful luminescence. Thomas could see you much clearer now, and it made your stomach flutter at how fervently he appeared. You found yourself growing more heated the further you allowed yourself to fall for the brunette boy; your eyes lingering that little bit longer, the need to nestle into the side of his body growing stronger, and your heart rapidly reverberating in your chest just that much harder. It was as if every nerve was ablaze with want, and it was such an unfamiliar sensation that you were starting to feel nauseous. And you didn’t want it to end.

It wasn’t long before Thomas stood, dusting at his covered thighs to rid the ash that sprinkled from the rising smoke. He moved slowly, almost with hesitance, but it was the bashful and budding thump from his heart that drew him toward you. Through the curtain of your lashes, you peered up at him as he stopped only a mere foot or so in front of you, his hand extended, and a chest filled with held breath that he hoped you wouldn’t notice. He was bathed in a fiery afterglow, his figure enveloped by golden flickers. You sighed dreamily. 

“Want me to walk you back to your hut?” His voice was quiet, a gentle hum as it held the possibility of diffidence. He always held a sort of shyness when it came to you, especially when it allowed him to hold your hand and selfishly receive all of your undivided attention. 

A rosy hue climbed your neck, speckling your cheeks with a blush that exceeded even the dancing flames of heat before you. It felt so incredibly right as your palm confidently slid over his own, granting Thomas permission to lightly grasp at your wrist and provide some strength in pulling you up. He always escorted you, these days. Part of him dreaded that if he didn’t, then something would happen to you. Whilst other parts craved the company you gave and the adoration you unforgivingly showered him in. Maybe, it was just his way of showing the supplemental gladers that surround you both that you would always leave with him, because you’re simply his. 

Regardless - your hands were quick to wrap around his arm, tugging the boy close to you as you clasped your fingers with his. Bidding farewell to your friends and fellow survivors hardly took any time before Thomas was guiding you away, the path he followed so well-known by now that he swore he could travel it in his sleep. The lanterns that usually adorned your way had already died down, softened by the late night, yet complemented beautifully with the rising blanket of radiant moonlight. It would be hard for you to form words around just how contented you felt in this moment; calmed by the gentle breeze wafting from the ocean shores of the Safe Haven, and lulled when it rustled nearby palm trees in harmony with the now distant joyousness abandoned back at the bonfire. 

Thomas’ thumb absentmindedly rubbed at your hand as your head dropped to his shoulder, the faint smell of burnt wood tickling your nostrils after becoming woven into the cotton of his shirt. You managed a small hum, surprising yourself when you inner thoughts left your lips with quiet notes, “Do you think it’ll stay like this forever?” 

“What will stay?” He replied, his eyes briefly glancing down to you, lips curling into a slight smirk at how in thought you seemed to be.

You paused, lips pursing as you racked your brain for the right words. Everything, is what you truly wanted to say, but even then you wished that some things were different. You wished for Newt to be there with you all, and Chuck, and Winston. You had also often thought about Teresa and just how much she would have contributed to this new society. You really didn’t want everything to say the same, but some things were just simply perfect in your eyes.

“The tranquility.” You ended up with, squeezing Thomas’ forearm with your spare grasp, “The calm after the storm. Being able to take a deep breath because you know you aren’t always looking over your shoulder. Nights like this… so beautiful, merciful. Seeing our friends smile in what felt like forever. Us.” 

“Us?” He questioned, peering to you again before focusing on the upcoming silhouette of your hut. Thomas laughed lightly, “We aren’t changing, not anymore. I have you and I’m keeping you forever. No take-backs, sorry sweetheart.” 

A tender giggle echoed lightly in the air as it fell from your lips, prompting you to nestle even closer into Thomas’ side. He always made you feel protected, and you know from the bottom of your heart that he will also continue to until his dying breath.

You pressed your lips just under his ear, breath igniting his skin, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

It was a force that managed to shake the walls; such harshness in comparison to the soft velvety feeling of his lips sliding against yours. Thomas’ brows furrowed slightly after forcefully kicking the door to your hut closed behind him, but it was the sweetness of your amused laughter that drew him so effortlessly back to you.

“A little eager?” The warmth of your breath fanned over his still rosy cheeks, reminding Thomas that you were so close. You watched as his lashes fluttered against his cheekbones - delicate, yet sharp - framing the doe-like brown eyes that you’ve grown to love, and beyond, and it made the boy appear so incredibly pure. He was a snowflake shining against the sun, a flower’s petals fresh as they begin to bloom, the dancing flames of a picturesque fire that you were only just admiring him through. 

Thomas managed a smile through a breathless exhale, as if you were there taking his breath away with your bare hands, grabbing and keeping it as your own lifeline. He lent in, this time with closed eyes, the tip of his nose nudging against yours, and it was your turn to hitch at his whispered words, “You have no idea.” 

His hands were rough. Callouses adorned them from the past year or so, memories and scars that captured how he survived and that those hands were the reason you were safe. They often trembled when he slept due to the nightmares that haunted him - the monsters that made him bleed, and the people that he watched perish before his tear-glazed eyes. Those hands carried the lives of legions of people at one point, and sometimes Thomas thinks that they are under pressure to still do so. Those hands were strong and could hold so much from so many people.

Yet, as one grasped your hip and the other cupped your cheek, they had never felt more tender. Oh - and how you desired the benign fingertips to soothe over your skin and touch you in places that have gone undiscovered by most. And if Thomas wanted to tread in those uncharted waters, there was no way that you would decline, not when you dreamt of his touch for so long.

You breathed him in once more, intoxicated by the most mundane of scents that built up who this boy came to be. The smoke was strong as it continued to linger, but the salt water that had dried on his skin and the subtle waft of dirt from his earlier exploration this morning was a concoction that on the best of days, drove you crazy, but right now you wanted nothing but to bathe yourself in it. With a small swallow of the lump in your throat, fingers grasped at the unbuttoned opening of Thomas’ henley, and you pulled him even closer than before until chests were flush and hearts beat in thumping unison. 

His lips found yours again with ease, wrapping around your own and taking you as if he were a starved man. It drew a small moan to elicit from your throat and he knew that he would do anything to hear that sound again, over and over, a broken record that could both lull him to a lustful sleep and keep him awake at all hours with a curled fist and an overworked forearm. It wasn’t until his tongue slipped; dragging with deliciousness over your bottom lip, and taking refuge against your own as he licked so casually into your mouth. That’s the moment you blacked out and allowed your stance to lose all sense of muscle, becoming jelly-legged and at the mercy of Thomas’ arms wrapping further around your submissive frame.

Thomas slowly walked you both backward until your knees collided with the frame of your makeshift bed. You released a small gasp, enough to wake you from your short absence from reality, as the boy took it as his cue to lift you carefully until you were laying down against the thin sheet that you deemed as a blanket. This was the first time that he was ever situated above you - usually pulling you into his arms as you stood with friends, or tugging you down onto his lap so that he could cuddle against your back. Kisses would be shared, but they were never this hot, nor this needy, and Thomas’ breaths stopped momentarily as he took in how stupidly beautiful you looked underneath his heaving body. 

He wasn’t sure what changed between you both so quickly with this new angle, but he had a sudden overwhelming sensation to kiss you with every ounce of passion he could muster, and meld himself with you until a single unit was left in your wake. He was throbbing in his head at the salacious thoughts that drowned his mind with images of you in positions seemingly compromisable. Throbbing in his heart at how emotion could so easily play such an intense role in how he never wanted to be a part from you for as long as he lived. And throbbing a little lower at how it all seemed to come together as one want, an impulse, a craving for your touch and taste and sounds that could drive a man mad in the absolute best way possible. Thomas was already halfway there. 

You could feel it too in the way he was gazing over your frame - the heat that loved to submerged your body was now between your legs, and you had the itch to squirm from the slight discomfort it gave you. It was formidable once before, during a night where sleep was off the schedule, and you couldn’t stop thinking about how much you yearned for being between Thomas’ arms and held to his chest. The heat was like a heartbeat as it pulsated, and under the curtain of nightfall, you had eased the pain with your fingers and a hasty soothing rub. You remember seeing Thomas flash behind your fluttering eyelids before they settled closed, and it made you press harder, chasing after a feeling that was odd at first… but so quickly became pleasureful until you squealed his name and your chest sank from a high that pulled you up from your bed. It was euphoric, and you were quick to understand what some of the others meant when they talked about making themselves feel so good. All you wanted now was that feeling again, and Thomas to be the one to grant you such elation.

With vulnerable movements, you reached up to cup the boy’s cheek, your thumb dragging from his nose to the softened skin under his eye, teasing his lower lash line. You bit your lip at how stunning he truly was and how the subtleness of moonlight played shadows across his face. He nuzzled into your hold and placed a small kiss to the skin, the tip of his nose dragging with fragility over your palm until his lips pursed once more. You needed him closer until all you could feel was him, all you could taste and hear, too. You were aching to settle the feeling that had now reached your lower abdomen as it screamed to be soothed, to be taken care of. 

“Kiss me.” You slipped, a softened whisper that Thomas almost missed until you said it again, “Kiss me, Tommy. I need you.”

You didn’t know what the words truly entailed except for how right it felt to say them - Thomas, clearly on a wavelength that matched yours with perfection, as he dropped to your lips with a smile and groan that you happily swallowed whole. Arms and legs clung to him for dear life as he slotted between your thighs, lips smacking and tongues dragging and suddenly that alluring cool night air became thick and humid. He covered your frame and slowly sank his body weight onto yours - a puzzle piece that was cut perfectly for you, embedded so sublimely against your curves and dips. 

Hips clashed with harmonising force, a kind of friction that was heavily sought as it was chased. It drew a throaty groan to echo past Thomas’ lips, his brows furrowed as he tried to overcome the near pained feeling of pressure against his crotch as you absentmindedly pushed up against him. It was bittersweet torture - the kind where he knew how to relieve it, but was riddled with nervousness about sharing it with you. He sat a curled fist beside your head as his other held your hip, hoping that you wouldn’t notice how frisky your touch and taste were making the boy. Thomas was holding back every instinct to lose control over a sensation that had only ever met his right hand.

You were lost hopelessly in his lips. They held slight chappedness from the salty air, but an ever-forgiving softness that so easily held you captive and vulnerable. Whenever he kissed you, it was as if you were nothing but his - simply a figure that had fallen victim to his tender touch and enrapturing words, you wouldn’t dare move in case it burst the bubble that separated you from the outside world. It was simply an addiction and you craved it always, a constant need for Thomas, a constant need to share your love. 

Absentmindedly, your ankles pulled his lower back further into you, and it was the meeting of his hardness against your heated core that ripped a sudden moan from you both as synchronised calls filled the space of your hut. You clung even further to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck among the thin sheen of sweat. It was the type of stimulation that you needed again, or else you’d stop breathing. Tentatively, your hips rose again before you gently rubbed over the pulsating hardness through the thick denim of his jeans, and you swore that stars exploded behind your eyes as you whined against his neck.

Thomas breathed out heavily, his throat thick, “Shit - shit, that feels good.” 

You nodded weakly, desperation clawing at you as you pressed kisses down the column of his throat, remembering the patches of skin that made him shudder with fragility. Thomas was melting against your frame - a puddle of a boy between your limbs as he began to rock over you, slow drags until a comfortable pace was met and he could feel your fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

His senses were enamoured by you - completely and utterly taken, infatuated to no end. You were all that he could feel and it made the air thicker than he thought possible as he swallowed your panting breaths. The need came rather quickly as Thomas grasped at the back collar of his shirt, his ears perking at the small whine you let escape as he sat back on his knees to remove the obstructive piece of cotton. Your lips were still pursed and they chased him with weak effort from your sobered drunken haze, much to the boy’s admiring amusement.

With a chuckle, Thomas lent down to you, his lips ghosting over the rosy hue of your cheek before pressing gently against it. He allowed the tip of his nose to nuzzle against the soft skin before he spoke in a whispered tone, “Who’s the eager one now, hm?” A shudder travelled down your spine as warm breath danced below your ear; a sensation that was enough to rip another moan from your thumping chest, a sound so melodious that Thomas found it a hasty necessity to imprint it permanently in his mind. 

You replied breathlessly, “I can’t help that you’re hot, Tommy.” 

He gripped your waist after his fingers slid over the exposed skin from your hiked-up shirt with desperation to run his touch over every inch of your body. He didn’t want to push you to follow suit with the removal of your own shirt, but it didn’t stop the clench of his jaw and sudden strong grip as he held himself back from pursuing the hunger that was slowly developing within him.

You knew him, more than yourself, and how his demeanour would change, and how every emotion or action was a chapter in his book that you’ve read too many times to count. It promoted your hand to lift and squeeze at his bicep, Thomas’ eyes drifting to your widened gaze and the glint that sparkled among your coloured hues, “Take it off, it’s okay. I trust you.” 

He nodded, his chest fluttering at the faith you so easily had in him. You always did - have faith in Thomas - after all, he saved your life and in turn, you saved him by providing the limitless unconditional love that he deserved. His encouragement allowed you to find yourself after being lost within such a cruel world, and he never stopped believing in you. He never would. Thomas’ fingers flexed below your ribs, the toughed skin of his fingertips dragging with savour as he pushed your shirt further up your body. As it bunched under your chest, you managed to sit up slightly, quickly tugging the shirt until it let your skin breathe free, and it was tossed somewhere presently unknown across the room. The boy’s breath suddenly hitched as eyes raked shamelessly over your now vulnerable frame. His mouth felt dry, yet he was in complete awe. 

“You’ve seen me like this before.” You noted though the silence, your voice barely loud enough to break the intimate atmosphere. Your chest flushed slightly, only growing more vibrant as it reached your cheeks. You grew bashful under his doting stare, and he couldn’t help but bite his lip adoringly.

“Yeah, but…” Thomas thought back to the times where you all would swim at the beach, enough clothes to cover you, but to which still left little to the imagination. He shook his head once more, still in complete wonderment at you laying beneath him, “This is different. What I-I feel… it’s so much more than I can handle, you’re just so beautiful.” 

Your hand cupped his cheek and history repeated itself with such endearment; thumb rubbing under his eye to which he turned and kissed against your palm. It was quickly becoming your thing, your couple thing, something so small but so symbolic that ran the same path as screaming from the treetops that you’re in love. It was your silent communication of forever, and always, and until the end of our dying breaths to a world if there is one beyond ours. It was a promise and a reminder - that you both were there, and you weren’t ever going to leave. You were telling him through a simple touch of your hand that you were real, and his kiss was a reply of sincere gratitude.

Thomas lent down to peck the tip of your nose, smiling widely as your face scrunched with joy. His lips were quick to attach themselves to your neck next, wanting you to feel the ecstasy that you supplied him. They trailed with a wet path - his tongue darting out against pressure points and sucking at the spots that drew groans of satisfaction from you. Your head lulled back against his bed when teeth tickled your collarbone, and it didn’t take long for you to surrender yourself completely to him. Thomas’s tongue dragged heavily down your sternum before tracing along the cups that prevented you from bareness, eyes peering through thick lashes to silently ask for permission to go further. You couldn’t dare say no… not when every ounce of sunlight and warmth sang to you through such a simple look. 

You snuck a hand behind your back to unclasp the bra, suddenly releasing an unknown-held breath when the cool night air mixed with the heated moans that Thomas fanned against your chest. He swiftly reattached his lips as he relished in the new canvas for his kisses, his moistened trail continuing. You squeaked as he passed over your sensitive nipple, promoting your hand to grasp the back of his head and hold him closer to you. Thomas continued by sucking lightly before his tongue swirled in time with his hand squeezing your opposite side. He kneaded and squished the flesh tenderly, feeling his trousers tighten at the mewling sounds you made. 

He swapped sides and continued whatever sweet assault he could muster to prolong your symphony of sounds. It was building inside you - the desire for more. You felt like you were ignited, but wanting to be more than a spark… you needed to be an explosion, and you needed Thomas to be the one to set you off. You wiggled as you huffed out his name, your fingers fiddling with the button of your shorts when the boy pulled aware with a raised brow. 

“More… I need more. Please.” You begged, lifting your hips as Thomas helped pull the material away. He stood back by a step or two, whisky-glassed eyes absorbing your writhing body in nothing but a pair of cotton underwear and a wet patch that matched the erotic stain over his crotch. He was robotic as movements forced him to remove his own pants, the playing field even, and his cheeks redder than the Safe Haven’s sunset when you immediately ogled at the tent that was pitched under his boxer briefs.

This sort of intimacy was alike a perilous expedition - unsteady footing at first, unsure how to press forward, but leading to a bewitching and alluring adventure with such rapturous salaciousness. It continued when Thomas’ hands were placed on your thighs, rubbing cautiously against your skin before dipping in between your legs. Just knowing that he was so damn close made you whine under your breath, quiet, yet pitched enough to catch Thomas’ attention. 

Your fingers moved absentmindedly as they circled the moistened patch that you created, chest swelling with a held breath. You shuddered, trying to compose yourself, voice humming with please, “I-It feels good when you rub right there…”

“Is that what you do?” He questioned, eyes wide as he took in the information, and fingers dancing hesitantly close to your core. All you could do was nod and whine, hips squirming just from the thought of the pleasure that you’ve previously made yourself feel. It was an instant snap - the build of a rubber band being held back by Thomas’ fiery imprints, before the pressure was released, and the bounce back hit you hard when he pressed into the place that throbbed with wet need. 

Your body trembled with a softened sigh, the attention you were receiving easily turning your mind to mush, and he had barely dipped below the surface. Thomas’ eyes widened as his movements traced in the same tempo as his heavy breaths, chest thumping and skin igniting with warmth - he was in wonderment at the sounds that he drew from you, the squirming and the delicate fluttering of your lashes. It was a side of you that he was seeing for the first time, that anybody was seeing for the first time, and he felt so damn privileged.

The boy stopped quickly as you grasped at his wrist, big brown orbs looking to you in worry; but it quickly dissipated when he saw your loving ghost of a smile as it perked at your lips, and how you gently pushed him away to be able to remove the final piece of clothing that separated you from him. The cool breeze over your exposed slick provoked a shudder up your spine, a second one eliciting when you realised that Thomas’ flushed face was staring at your most private area.

He didn’t hesitate when his finger dragged back over you, collecting moisture that made your body tick when slathered across your sensitive nub. The pressure increased and you were sinking, melting, dissolving into the sheet beneath you. Your body was heavy, yet you felt weightless, allowing Thomas to take every ounce of control to drive you into ecstatic oblivion. His touch drew slightly down and circled the sensitive hole that was swimming in your pleasure, your breath hitching as his fingertip breached until his first knuckle. The boy’s hair was tugged with a needy grasp, the sheets below him shifting as they were too curled within your other hand. 

Thomas cursed under his breath as he rutted slowly against the side of the bed, his finger beginning to pump as he relished in how you squeezed him. He sighed loudly with a teeth-bitten bottom lip, “You like that?” It was rhetorical by what he saw before him, but he needed the affirmation, to know that you were going to unravel in bliss. And that he was why you were floating in a euphoric daze. You managed a whine in reply, head nodding as words were stuck among your hitching and heavy breaths. The tip of Thomas’ middle finger slightly curled as he shifted his position, and you released a sudden cry after he unknowingly rubbed against your spongey roof. He stopped immediately; scared that you were hurt, his chest tightening with worry until he noticed the cry settling into a moan, and your hips instinctively chased his touch for more attention. 

Thomas was known for being brave - diving in head first, running on pure instinct and spontaneity. He wasn’t one to back down, and now he knew what provoked those sweet wanton sounds of a symphony to escape you, he would do whatever possible to keep it going. He pumped his finger harder, his cock twitching against the bedsheet whenever you clenched around him, that one special spot being harassed over and over again until he swore you stopped breathing. His bravery shone when he inserted his pointer finger, his own throat now paying homage as it growled out a groan of desperation at how you both stretched and tightened. His mind travelled to thoughts of how you’d feel wrapped around his throbbing member, and if he didn’t get himself sorted soon, then he’d be leaving behind a spray of stickiness in his pants.

“T-Thomas…” You panted, hips rising and chest heaving as you felt fire bubble in your abdomen. Your voice cracked at the overwhelming sensation, “More… I need more…” 

He was careful to remove his fingers, but hasty when he rose up your body. Lips found yours instantly, as if by a magnetised force, two pairs that were destined to be slotted together with a taste that you could so easily get drunk off of. He licked between your lips until you granted him access to explore you properly, sliding with juxtaposed delicate hunger, and swallowing your breath and moans until they settled as his own. Thomas was slightly started as your nails dragged down his naked chest, goosebumps trailing in their wake before the elastic waist of his final piece of cotton was being attended to. The need was growing substantially as he pulled back - much to the disappointment of both himself and you, your lips pursed and eyes growing wide as you stared to him with such childlike doeness. 

It was becoming too real now as his hands began to shake, but any doubt was wiped clean when Thomas saw the adoring expression that flushed your face and prompted such a beautiful glint in your eye. You were his, and he was yours. That’s how it was and it’s how it would remain. Thomas was ready to give everything and more to you, as you were to him. Always.

The boy drew a deep breath before his boxers were dropped and he toed them to the side, his body bare in front of you. Thomas was pure - the epitome of a dream, a handsome man with arms that could protect you for the rest of your days. It wasn’t until you looked closer that you properly noticed the scars that showed his true story; both small and large imprints that represented sacrifice, and loss, and success. You lent forward with tentative movements until your fingers danced over the marks, and for a moment Thomas flinched, but easily settled as you traced each one with care. With pursed lips, you pressed against one near his navel; a recent wound that would forever remind you of his escape from death, where a bullet pierced his skin and left him unconscious for days. It was a time when you waited by his bedside without reposition, watching the steady rise of his chest as day turned to night, until he awoke in what would be your rightful Safe Haven.

The thought alone provoked wet tears to coat his lower stomach, and Thomas gently slid his hand into your hair as his thumb soothed you with consistent rubbing motions. Thomas was here with you, he was alive, he was real, he was safe and he was so utterly and completely loved.

It was as if he could read your mind as he cooed against the crown of your head, “I’m here, babygirl. I’m not going anywhere.” 

You showed your understanding with more kisses over more of his scars, until every one had been offered endearment. You sat up further on your knees until you could gaze into his caramel eyes and the shade of burnt honey was easily your favourite; they gleamed especially under the afternoon sun, mesmerising swirls that could drag you to the deepest of depths, and you’d let them. They showed kindness and amusement, but right now, they darkened within the thickness of the room and you could’ve sworn that if given the chance… he would eat you alive, right there and then. Oh, how you wish he would.

But this moment was tentative - shared among inexperience, but budding romance and the strongest desires to be held and cherished. You needed to be closer which is why you kissed Thomas slowly, your lashes brushing against his pink cheeks, and your hands tightly squeezing his shoulders as his hardened cock twitched over your stomach. Flames were still burning brightly in your core and they needed to explode before they could be pleasantly extinguished. 

Your mind was too hazy to recall how your hold shifted to arms sliding around his neck, pulling him further in until teeth clashed and silenced groans were exchanged, and Thomas took it in stride to poke his tongue at every crevice he could before sliding it deliciously over your own. He lowered you to the bed before placing himself between your thighs, your ankles returning behind his back, and two hearts reverberating with slight anxiety against the other’s chest. 

Thomas pulled back slightly as his nose nuzzled with yours, a deep breath taken, “We don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready.” He offered quietly, trying to convince himself that his words were purely directed toward you. 

You smiled; the feeling of his wet and puffy lips brushing against your own as you did. You rubbed your nose back against his, “I’m ready if you’re ready… I love you, I’ll do anything for you, Tommy.” 

The boy chuckled in near disbelief. He knew a long time ago that he'd love you - that you’d take up every thought, every dream. That you’d so seamlessly enter into his life like the need for oxygen, and without you, he wouldn’t be able to breathe. You weren’t just needed or wanted, you were necessary to Thomas, and the love he had for you was unchallenged and indescribable. And now, it was also so incredibly mutual. Not that he had any doubts.

“I love you too, so much.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, “So, so much.” 

Thomas’ hips rocked against yours and the desperation was building fast. He thrust once, twice, three times until he was coating himself in your wet slick and it pulled a guttural noise from his throat. There was a time when he felt embarrassed listening to how his friends would recount their sexual experiences, and what they did to their partners, and how good it really felt. Neither of you had gotten to that stage until now, but he was thankful that he listened otherwise he wouldn’t be able to truly experience you.

The boy’s large hands tugged at himself a few times to properly lather himself in your wetness and you couldn’t help but sneak a peek at the package he held, your bottom lip quickly being held captive. You exhaled deeply, eyes widening, voice softening, “A-are you sure that’s gonna fit?” 

He laughed, a sound so sweet, “We’ll just have to see, won’t we? But…it might hurt, okay?” He huffed into your ear, face buried in the crook of your neck as you pressed a trail of open-mouthed kisses to his flushed skin, “So you need to tell me when to stop if it gets too much.” You whined, nodding in acknowledgement as Thomas began to line himself up, the head of his sensitive girth meeting your lower lips. But he didn’t push further, taking another deep breath, “You need to say it, please, baby. I need to hear you say it.” 

Instinctively, you ground up against him and released a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the anticipation grew, “I will, I promise.”

He didn’t need much more convincing as Thomas pushed into you, so incredibly slowly as he savoured how tight you clung to him. Your warmth forced his eyes to roll back and knowing that he was stretching you brought on utter determination. His cock was burying deeper, and deeper, and even he was starting to question now whether he’d fit inside you. Thomas opened his eyes after realising that they were closed, not remembering when he squeezed them shut, and he looked over your scrunched face with a gentle coo. He lifted a hand to your face before his thumb was gentle in pushing out the wrinkle between your eyes, his touch dragging down the curve of your face to cup your cheek. He whispered to you - affirmations and encouragements, reminders of love and pride. 

The lack of reception was a worry that nearly made him stop until you covered his hand with your own, face tilting until you could kiss over Thomas’ palm. You huffed as you were being filled, swearing that you could feel him in your stomach, but the pain would surely dissipate. “I love you, I love you, I love you…” Your mantra repeated like a broken record, getting lost in the heavy panting of your breath, until your back suddenly arched and Thomas had reached the hilt. 

He was already spent as hands braced themselves beside your head, caging you in until all you could see was his kiss-swollen lips and lustful dark eyes checking you for any kind of discomfort. The pressure sucking him into you was a sensation that he could never grow tired of, yet he waited for your face to soften and for the curl of your lips before he was granted permission to finally move. 

It was harmonious when you both sang out in pleasure; the four walls of your hut hopefully thick enough to not draw in any unwanted attention, but at this stage, you could care less about anybody or anything outside of the bubble you and Thomas found yourselves within. His rocking turned to a fastened pace, driven by just how close you both already were to reaching your highs. Hips clashed and lustful sounds echoed as your arms curled under his own and grasped at his shoulders, pulling the boy closer until an inch couldn’t be spared between your sweat-sheened skin. Curses fell from your lips with ease and Thomas relished in the way that he was making you feel, your bodies moving as a single unit as you were pushed and pulled across the bed. 

He nosed your cheek before brushing his lips against yours - not quite a kiss, but a flash of want that was sure to leave behind a burn, and you hoped that the feeling would stay with you forever. He nuzzled into you as he moaned out, “I love you”, his words so sweet in contrast to the near-pornographic moan that followed when you clenched around his cock. It made you rut back against him and meeting his hips halfway was nearly your tipping point. You were chasing after the feeling of ecstasy as it continued to build and continued to run, your arm held out and it was within reaching distance. So close. So close.

You knew you had crossed the finish line when your vision turned to stars; a white light coinciding with delicate heat, your body trembling as you droned against Thomas. You were weightless again - floating in euphoria, your bones melting as you collapsed completely into Thomas and he made sure to hold you against his naked chest with a protective arm across your back. It was the first time you truly felt pleasure and it was perfect.

“You did so well…” Thomas cooed, trying to withstand his own release as he kissed over your temple, his fingers massaging into your spine when he felt a quiet sob escape you. His lips pressed once more, “Just so you know” He started again, his thrusts slowing before he went too far, “You look so beautiful right now.” 

“I’m crying.” You scoffed, eyes scrunching when you pulled back as his cock throbbed from inside you, dragging over the spongey spot that had the potential to drive you to insanity if probed enough. But the feeling was too strong and you were becoming too sensitive. 

Thomas noticed before he pulled out with haste, his tortured girth being fisted roughly within his hand. He took a deep breath, the urge to cum growing nearer as his head threw back and his eyes screwed shut. “You’re beautiful even when you cry.” It wasn’t until he looked at you, the feeling of soft skin cupping his cheeks and your lips slotting against his own, that Thomas finally let go. You swallowed his moans as the boy shook under your grasp; strings of white stick painting his fist and reaching your chest. 

He was the first to break away, the need for air nearly forgotten as he was getting lost in your touch and taste. Thomas’ forehead pressed to yours and his shoulders sagged in absolute content. Your relationship consummated on an entirely different level, and you both had never felt closer to one another. Thomas hummed, his heart rate slowly coming down, yet he couldn’t help but express excitement, “That, fuck… that was amazing. Absolutely amazing.” He grinned as you giggled under your breath, arms wrapping back around his neck, “And you, babygirl.. that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I survived a week in the Scorch.” 

He flinched slightly as you slapped at his shoulder, embarrassment flourishing and your face was hidden as it nuzzled against one of his pecs. The boy continued to rub your back through his tamed chuckles, admiring what he deemed as adorable behaviour, and you acknowledged him with a series of kisses over the damp skin of his chest and an amused tone, “You’re such a dork, Tommy.” 

“I’m your dork.” 

You murmured something incomprehensible against him, followed by a yawn and a satisfied smile. You were worn, in the best way possible, through a moment that would stay with you for as long as life allowed you to keep it. Thomas has saved you in more than one way - allowing you a new lease on life, full of different experiences and emotions, with a promise held in the cusps of forever love. It was a struggle to get to where you are now but you’re glad, no, you’re gratified that it eventually led you to a life with Thomas.

The boy pulled you back to his chest as he squeezed a final hug, his brows furrowing at the feeling of cooling slick between your bodies, a bittersweet end to where love was made, “First things first, I’m gonna have to clean us up.”

[mashiraostail]

can u write some soft cuddling hc for the main party?

aw (does have some minor spoilers for the game!)

Shadowheart: Doesn't really mind the position you're in but will certainly like to be able to hold hands, even just laying side by side, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand. She'd also like to see your face, and be able to kiss you. She not a quiet cuddler either, she likes to chat about nothing in particular, how dinner was, the strange hairstyle you'd seen someone in the city sporting, asking questions about your life pre tadpole and so on. Just gets softer post nightsong if she goes against Shar. I think she'll really enjoy having something in someone for once, she's spent her whole life not really knowing or having much of anything so she'll really revel in you. She'll want to touch your face, hold your hands, smell you and just be as close as possible.

Astarion: He's snarky and all but once he's warmed up I think he'll really enjoy a bit of a snuggle. He's not picky at all either, he'll enjoy tucking you into his chest, resting his chin on your hair, and listening to you breathe. He'll also enjoy laying his head on your chest, feeling you arms come around him and hearing your heart beat under his ear. Enjoys chaste little kisses, peppered along his hairline or neck or wherever you can reach with no intention of anything more. He's not as talkative as Shadowheart, in fact he probably won't say much at all unless you do. It's not that he doesn't want to talk he just...is enjoy you, your beating heart, the feeling of your hands on his back, the warmth of you. He'll forget to say anything, and that's fine because his presence will just lull you to sleep. If you do get to chatting he won't mind, in fact you'll probably find he'll deveulge some incredibly tender information at times like these. He's loved cats, always, he isn't sure why, he learned to sew to maintain his clothes from his life, just something to hold onto. Try not to be too snarky with him in these moments, he'll most certainly recoil at it.

Wyll: Dutiful big spoon, he likes to rub your back, or your tummy. Besides Halsin I think Wyll is the most obsessed with your smell, he'll definitely bury his face in your neck and take some comically big whiffs of you. Also most likely to tickle you. He compliments you a lot too, your skin is soft, your hair smells nice, you are just generally lovely, and thank you for allowing me to be so close to you. He loves to listen to you talk too, cuddling is a great time to yap to him about anything. Literally anything. Short bows vs longbows, which one do you like better, why? Recount some fond memories, talk about your favorite food, he's just happy to listen. He likes when you lay against his chest the best though, he loves squeezing you and getting to cast the occasional glance down at you. Chronic forehead kisser too, he'll be leaning in to kiss you mid sentence, he's just delighted to be allowed it.

Halsin: He's soooooooo big spoon shaped and he loves curling around you and tucking you away. He's so warm too so he's the best napping partner. He loves a chest/stomach rub though so you have to indulge him as it would be unkind not to. But don't linger tooo much because Halsin and Karlach are probably most likely to turn cuddling into something a bit....more. He also enjoys being 'little' spoon, having a backpack is funny to him and he'll hold onto your arms wrapped around him to keep you in place. He enjoys it as quiet time, just getting to enjoy the company of someone he loves when there is little time to be afforded to such pleasures. And a pleasure it is, simple and easy and kind there is little in the wold Halsin prefers than spending that time with you. He does enjoy a few quiet, affectionate words shared between you though. Nothing grand or poetic but some soft appreciation for your closeness, the feeling of skin on skin, or a quiet confession of love isn't uncommon.

Karlach: Bear hugger. Major bear hugger. Once she can finally touch you she does not ever want to take her hands off you. She'll wrap her arms and legs around you, kiss you everywhere, and beg you to stay the night with her in her tent. Cuddling becomes a sacred ritual to her, you always end your day in each other's arms talking about anything and everything. In these quiet moments Karlach wonders if her heart really was stolen, because she's never felt more full of love than she does now. She loves to crack jokes and tickle you, hearing your laugh, feeling you turn into her neck or chest, it all puts her on cloud nine. She'll run her fingers through your hair, and possibly start a thumb war.

Gale: Oh boy does he just love to end a day with you. He loves to have you sitting between his legs, your back against his chest while he talks about the whole day as if you weren't there for it all. He may spend the time reading or writing too but he'll always ask you to talk for a bit. Gale loves talking, especially with you and if you entertain him he'll talk until the sun rises. He loves to rest his head in your lap while he talks with you, the feeling of your hands in his hair, your fingers against his scalp, your palm resting on his stomach. Gale struggles to think of anything better after a long day on the road. I think secretly Gale likes this sort of human connection, the skin to skin, studying your eye color and all the shades of your skin. Connecting via the weave isn't unpleasant by any means but something about this sort of connection is new to him. Maybe being with Mystra made him cast it out of his mind, or maybe it had never been any good with any one else... he isn't sure. He is sure that he loves it now, he wants to rest his forehead against yours, he wants to feel your hands in his shirt, against his stomach, he wants to feel the huff of your laughter against his lips and most of all he just wants you however you'll have him.

Lae'zel: She's almost adverse to it at first. Ease into things, sit shoulder to shoulder, rest your head on her arm, let your thighs touch when you sit beside each other. It comes like most of your relationship, with trust and with time. Eventually she'll look forward to you after the day's up. Mostly she just likes to have her arm around you, she likes to slick your hair back off your forehead and pull your head even closer into her. She'll make a mean little quip about Gale or Astarion and you'll laugh and Gods help her it actually lights something up in her chest and all she can think to do is pick her hand up off your shoulder and pull you into her. The first time it happens it actually makes her stomach hurt. She's never been one for the mundane, for a routine, but there she was, chatting with you about nothing while you traced out shapes on the back of her hand. In these moments she could almost see it for herself, whiling away the days with you.

[minustwofingers]

cool about it teaser

pairing: closetedfem!reader x ellie

request? yes, by @gold-dustwomxn (:

summary: life in the apocalypse is hard enough. the last thing you need is unrequited feelings for your best friend—who is very much off limits. so you'll just be cool about it. really cool about it. set in a loose interpretation of canon where i toy around with the timeline and storyline just the slightest and this is also a bit of a slowburn

warnings: ur closeted asf, queer angst, gross men, explicit language, substance use

a/n: hey guys i haven't really been posting much recently, but i wanted to at least post two scenes from this series so u guys have an idea of what to expect...also so u guys can tell me which one you want me to work on more (love is a laserquest or this one). i hope u enjoy...sorry this one is a little disjointed! (there are many events that happen between the two scenes im sharing w u as a little treat)

I. (opening scene)

The revelation that your feelings towards your best friend had become complicated arrives with the dead of winter. It’s strange, really, how something within you came to life just as the rest of the world began to die. 

If you were wiser, you’d find ways to explain it away, to rationalize all the weird thoughts in your head. You’d cite the chill in the air. The holiday spirit running through Jackson. The desolation that came with your only outdoor companions being the brown corpses of deciduous trees and infected that hadn’t frozen in the winter storms that kept battering Wyoming. 

But with age came wisdom, and both of those virtues were in short supply in a post-apocalyptic world. So, you resign yourself to cataloging away these feelings and pretending like everything was absolutely normal and cool. 

The bad thing about having good things, you think to yourself bitterly one day as you watch Ellie’s eyes light up as she rambles in her room as you sit on her bed about a comic book Joel had found her, is that they’re risky. High risk—high reward. Ellie was special to you in a way that no one else was. And using this logic, losing her would bring such an unforeseen devastation that you weren’t sure that you could go on. 

So, normal. Cool. Chill. Because you cannot afford to fuck this one up. 

“I love when you tell me about your comics,” you tell her in a way that’s definitely not sappy sweet and gooey. 

She smiles crookedly back at you. “You’re such a fucking liar. I know you couldn’t give a shit about these.” 

“Am not!” You throw a punch at her arm, feeling your heart twist as she just grins wider. “For the record, I do give a shit. Many, actually.”

“That sounds gross.” 

“Your words, not mine.” 

And it’s absolutely gut wrenching how she can just smile at you like that, like she’s not holding your heart in her fist.

“So, uh, Cat,” you blurt out. You’d been staring at her for too long. “Dina said that you two were—uh…” 

You wave your hand around in the air like you’re sifting through thousands of possible word combinations. In reality, you know exactly what you need to say to get the answer you’re searching for. You just don’t want to ask. 

“Well…” She blushes. Her eyes drop to her hands, where her fingers are toying with the bits of cuticle she hasn’t already torn off. 

“I knew it!” you croon, hoping that the boatload of dread that just dropped in your stomach isn’t as obvious as it feels. “Tell me everything.”

“Nothing to tell,” she says. “Nothing yet, at least. It’s stupid but—I just noticed that she hangs around me a lot, you know? And, like, touches me more than she needs to. Shit like that. I dunno.”

The wound deep inside you splits like the fake grin on your lips. “Wowwwww. Look at you!” 

Ellie rolls her eyes. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I mean,” she says, her eyes twinkling conspiratorially, “What about Eddie? Jesse told me that you spend a lot of time with him.”

“We’re patrol partners,” you offer. It’s not a lie. You’re just choosing to omit the part where Eddie spends half his patrol staring longingly in your direction while you pretend not to notice. 

“I know that.”

“It’s…” You gnaw on your bottom lip. “I don’t know how I feel about that right now.” 

That’s not a lie either. Eddie is…nice. All the other girls like him, except for Dina (she has Jesse) and Ellie (she has another very obvious reason). He’s attractive. At least, that’s what Bonnie tells you. Apparently the buzzed hair and heavy bluntness found in all of his features is considered hot. 

But just because you’re not into him now doesn’t mean you could never be. That’s what your mother used to say about your father—she hadn’t liked him upon their first meeting. But it changed with time, and you’d rather have someone than be all alone. 

Ellie hums, picking at the cuticle of her thumb. “He likes you.”

“So I’ve heard.” 

“Well,” she says, “I heard Jesse’s putting on another bonfire tonight. Want to walk there together after dinner?” 

You spend another evening staring across the fire at your best friend, watching the warm glow of the flames warp and distort the shape of her and Cat, pressed up against each other and smiling wide. You aren’t sure why it makes you so uncomfortable to see them together. Homophobia? No. Maybe? You recently learned that that was a thing, but you don’t consider yourself bigoted, and being a homophobe is more of an opt-in situation, right? 

But when you try to reach deep inside to find a more plausible answer, there’s nothing. 

It’s your detachment from reality that lets Eddie drape a heavy, hard arm over your shoulder. 

“Hey,” he whispers into your ear. His breath is hot and warm. 

“Hey,” you whisper back, wanting nothing more than to get away. Thankfully, Ellie is too preoccupied with Cat to even look your way. You’re sure that you’d die if she saw Eddie touching you like this. 

“You look really pretty tonight.”

“Thank you.”

It’s like someone shone a spotlight on you, hung a sign on your neck that said, I am perceived and desired by men. You don’t know why this makes your skin crawl so much. 

Eddie’s fingers are tracing patterns on the flesh of your arm. You find that you’re grateful for the extra layer your sweatshirt sleeve provides. You don’t want him to touch you—don’t want to know what it’s like for him to deliberately make contact with your skin. 

The next time he speaks to you, it’s in a murmur that you suppose is meant to sound seductive. “You’re quiet today.”

“Just a little tired.” And now you feel guilty, because Eddie really hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s you who has an issue with a boy who’s perfectly nice and clearly likes you. 

He laughs like you’d said something funny, tightening his arm so you press into his side. His body is blazing hot like a furnace, and it feels hard and foreign.

II. (scene from somewhere in the middle )

“Sorry!” You titter at the crowd of your friends who formed at the sliding glass door. “Um—sorry.” 

It seems to be the only thing you can say. 

“Cat,” Ellie says, an edge of desperation in her voice. “Cat, please, it’s not like—”

“I’m pretty fucking sure of what I saw,” snaps Cat. She turns to Eddie, a vicious glint in her eyes. “Didn’t know your girl swung that way.” 

And then she shoves past the mass of people, Ellie kicking off from the deck railing with a stream of apologies falling from her lips as she follows behind. 

Eddie walks forward, confusion the dominant emotion in his wide face.

“Uh—I didn’t—”

“I’m really drunk,” you say to him, feeling the tears begin to spill down your cheeks. “It’s not like that. I promise it’s not like that. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Hey,” he says, opening his arms. “Come here. Why are you crying?” 

“I don’t know,” you sputter, stepping into him and pressing your snotty face into his shirt. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Fuck.”

“It’s really okay.” His hand finds the flat part of your back between your shoulder blade and rubs circles. “It’s just a chick. If it were, like, I dunno, Jesse, I would’ve been angry.”

“You’re not mad?” you ask, pulling away to look up at him. Maybe there’s something tonight you didn’t ruin. 

He smiles down at you. “‘Course not. Some guys find that shit hot, you know. Two girls kissing like that.”

The smile that seemed so innocent at first sends a sharp, chilling pang through your chest. He doesn’t seem to notice your hesitation in the way your face falls as his head dips to kiss you, doesn’t seem to register the disgust you exhibit until you have to shove yourself away.

“I’m really drunk,” you repeat, looking anywhere but his face. “I want to go to bed.” 

“I can come—”

“No.”

final a/n: like i said so sorry about how disjointed this is. i just want to get a feel for what my readers are more interested in for now!!

[brightgoat]

Hey hi! I’ve been an avid follower of yours for awhile for your Pucci art but, this green child au has me hooked more and more lately! Your art is stunning by the way, thank you for posting!! The final metamorphosis panel has me excited for the next installment you share ngl.

Anyways, I was wondering if I could ask a few things about it? Specifically, what has happened after O-moon came into the picture, and the buildup to part 13 and 14? Of course if you wish to keep things vague or don’t know, there’s no need to answer! I’m just curious.

When did Jotaro get alerted to the incident and decided to finally come around? Did he encounter Pucci first or Jolyne? After the revelations that O-moon revealed to Jolyne, how did her perceptions of her father and Pucci shift? Did Jolyne ever figure out what Pucci was most likely about to do to FF while they were cornered by him? Have you thought about how Weather Report factors into this AU at all (since he’s probably in prison at this point)?

Sorry for the bombardment, and again no pressure to answer these if you don’t wish to!

- Kimera

Greetings! Thank you very much for the compliment, hope the payoff to that comic was satisfying haha

So, I wanna keep things vague with this AU, telling the main story beats through images and short comics- not only cuz I like it that way but also cuz... I haven't decided a lot of the details hahaha-

Answering this via lore dump, hope you like reading, this can be just one of many ways it could've happened:

I imagined that while Pucci and Jolyne were out getting souls, Jotaro was studying whatever is left of Dio's followers, and eventually tracks down Pucci, and travels to the US. Perhaps he finds out Pucci has been tutoring Jolyne from Jolyne's mum (who knows maybe they reconnected).

Oh and yes, Jolyne's mum knows abt Pucci, but of course not who he really is.

During this, Jolyne has awakened the Green Baby and fused with it. Jotaro may even sense that something is wrong through their family psychic bond thing.

Jotaro, realizing Pucci is a step ahead of him by already taking in his own daughter, tracks Pucci down to the church and confronts him there, sparing no time and going straight to beating answers out of him, where's Jolyne, what happened to her, what's your plan etc.

I had this thought, that once Jolyne fuses with the green baby, she inherits a bit of Dio's knowledge, and it helps her realise she's been getting used by Pucci all along. Not only that, she inherits the will to go to Heaven, and it drives her to complete the plan, she's strung along by fate now.

Now obviously she feels betrayed by Pucci, but still sympathetic to him, and rescues him from Jotaro. She's conflicted, she's angry, the only reason both Pucci and Jotaro reached out was because of some bigger-than-her plot, and not because of herself. She doesn't know how much of what Pucci gave her was genuine or because of her use to him.

(had this idea for a scene that right after Jolyne rescues Pucci, all three of them are still in church and Pucci realises she's transformed, he yells for her to stay still so he can get Whitesnake to take whatever's inside her out, but as soon as Whitesnake reaches out, a hand bursts out, he thinks it's Stone Free and suddenly JUMPSCARE O-Moon jumps out at him and the reversed-gravity throws everyone away from her-)

The only friend she has left is FF, and yes she finds out what Pucci did to them, furthering her anger. So she drags FF along with her, they are eachothers' only allies here, and although FF doesn't fully understand what's happening to Jolyne, they'll stay by her side (cue the uhhhh 'oh jolyne gave me so many memories and memories make up my intellect so i owe her yadda yadda-')

Aaaaand as for Weather, yeah mf's still in prison lmao I haven't thought too much about him. I wanted this to focus on Jolyne and Pucci, though if I did turn this AU into an entire actual story, Weather would probably come up at some point. God knows how though lmao-

[x-press-it]

Devilish Desires - 5/8

Dangerous Temptations, Irresistible Touch 🎞️❤️‍🔥🌹⚔️🖤💻🖱️

Sub!Logan Howlett x Dom!OC (They/Them)

Summary: Logan, typically guarded and dominant, finds himself captivated by E, a mysterious being with a devilish allure and ancient presence that challenges his control.

Context: This story unfolds 'within' the "Days of Future Past" new timeline, during Logan's early years as a history teacher at Xavier’s School. It’s set well before his consciousness from the original timeline reconnects with him in 2023, as seen at the film’s end.

Content Warnings (for the whole story): Smut 18+ (Dry humping, Edging, Unprotected p in v.) - Dom!Logan into Sub!Logan - Pet Names (Good boy, pretty boy, pet, pup, amongst others…) reversed age gap (Logan is younger) - OC Notes: Established name, backstory, powers, fighting style, female body but gender fluid character (Logan misgender them at first because he doesn’t know, even in the descriptions) - Mention of other character from the MCU and subtle references to the comics for flavor (not mandatory to understand what is happening) - Flash back and mention of past trauma - Very quick mentions of drugs - Fluff with Dark Undertones: Emotional tension and possessive affection - Worship Themes: Religious imagery, reverent language and awe - Ancient Mysticism: References to otherworldly or demonic presence - Mental Health: Power dynamics, personal vulnerabilities - Trope: Rivals to lovers.

I'm back after 10 years of iatus and fairly new to how things are done on tumblr now, so sorry if I missed any warnings. Also english isn't my first language so there might be typos/weird sentences...

Notes: Got very inspired by sub!Logan and repeated listening of "Between wind and water" by Hael. Cover made with canva from an idea I got from this post. If you know who made the picture, tell me so I can credit them - Click on the divider to find the creator. Also this was meant to be an imagine turned into a full story. Just so you know, some chapters are very short, other are long. I'm in the process of editing/writing/rewriting parts so I'll post a chapter everytime I have one fully edited.

Finally, we're here! I had this chapter partialy written since ages (I think it was the first one I wrote) and it's now out for you to read \o/ It's time for some revelations :D (Sorry in advance for the bucket of lore coming your way XD ) I'm so excited, I really hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I liked writing it :D It's time to feed the hunger again :D

Need some music? I've got you I wrote the second scene with this particular song in repeat

Previously: in Devilish Desires

Chapters: 5/8

Word Count: 8.7K / 60K+ for now

The hum of the Danger Room felt more intense from the command center, each vibration resonating in Logan's bones as he leaned against the console, eyes locked on the floor below. It had been two days since the sparring session, and in the day that followed, the team had decided E would face this trial. Logan had offered them a few words of advice about the Danger Room's unpredictability—the way it tested not only skills but instinct and resilience. Now, as night had fallen, the room thrummed with anticipation.

On the other side of the glass, E stood in the center of the vast metallic space, their posture deceptively relaxed. But Logan’s keen eyes could see the tension in their muscles, coiled like a spring, ready to be unleashed. Their hair was down, swept back into a half ponytail to keep it out of their eyes, but still falling like a thick curtain down their back, where the glint of metal—perhaps just a trick of the light—flickered beneath. The simple sport attire they wore clung to their frame, unadorned except for the three bracelets catching the cold light on their left wrist, while their bare feet flexed against the smooth floor. Their gloved fingers twitched, as if itching for movement, a restless energy building in the charged silence, waiting for the simulation to come up around them.

“They look confident,” Jean remarked, eyes narrowed with mild curiosity, but there was an edge to her voice. Logan didn’t respond, jaw tightening. There was no point sharing how skilled E was; they were about to witness it with their own eyes.

“They better be more than just confident,” Scott muttered under his breath, arms crossed as he cast a skeptical glance at Charles. The professor remained composed, hands folded on his lap, as if waiting for something only he could anticipate. With a few practiced keystrokes, Hank finally configured the simulation.

Below them, the virtual reality sprang to life, the soft whisper of machinery and the flicker of artificial lights surrounding E's silhouette. The walls shifted, blocks emerging from all around the room as pixels spread over their surfaces, multiplying and transforming into the textured sprawl of an urban maze—alleys and crumbling rooftops taking shape around them. The objective was simple: evade, outmaneuver, survive. A test of adaptability.

E moved, graceful and quick, weaving through the fake streets, their movements precise and calculating. Logan's eyes followed every twist, every sudden dart, watching as their focus turned sharp. He knew that they were dancing on the edge of instinct and training, the latter being a completely new experience.

“Fast,” Kitty admitted, a touch of surprise lacing her words.

Scott's arms tightened across his chest, eyes fixed on E as they moved fluidly through the simulation. “Speed doesn’t always win fights,” he countered, his gaze unwavering as he frowned at the holographic city. The hint of critique in his tone made the others nod in agreement, their silence suffocating.

But Logan couldn’t help the snort that escaped him, a brief flash of irritation twisting his features. He masked it quickly by clearing his throat, but the sharp sound had already drawn their attention. Eyes shifted to him, brows lifting in question, but he remained silent, jaw set tightly as he turned his gaze back to the floor below.

“I don’t see why you insisted on this, Charles,” Hank said, the low rumble of his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the room. His analytical eyes narrowed slightly as E’s pace faltered. What was happening? Logan's hands twitched at his sides—something was wrong. Tension rippled through the command center as each person silently judged every move they witnessed. E was keeping up, for now, but not without effort.

“Yeah, what’s so special? Just another pretty face with tricks,” Bobby added with a short, dismissive laugh. Logan’s jaw clenched tighter, muscles shifting under his skin.

Charles steepled his fingers, leaning forward in his wheelchair with an unreadable expression. “Patience, my friends. There’s potential there. Untapped, but it’s there,” he said calmly, though the confidence in his voice was met with a few skeptical glances.

Logan’s teeth ground together as he watched them scrutinize, his muscles coiled with something raw, protective. This wasn’t just a trial for E; it felt like a trial for him, too, as if every dismissive comment was a thinly veiled accusation that he was thinking with something other than his brain.

Suddenly, a part of the simulated cityscape fractured with a metallic groan and came crashing down toward E. They twisted sharply, eyes wide, narrowly rolling out of the way as debris shattered where they had just stood. Dust plumed around them, and for a heartbeat, everything seemed to slow. Logan's hands clenched around air, claws itching, muscles flexing as if ready to leap down there himself.

The murmurs intensified, no longer masked by civility. Each comment jabbed at Logan, who could see the slight stutter in E’s movement below—a shadow of hesitation—as the room adjusted, shifting to create new streets ahead while the terrain behind dissolved seamlessly into nothing.

“That was close. They’re fast, sure, but is it enough?” The criticism in Scott’s voice was borderline caustic, hitting Logan like a sudden blow to the stomach.

“Enough!” he said, voice cutting through the low chatter. Heads turned, surprised. He rarely broke his silence, rarely defended anyone outside his trusted circle. “You all stepped into that room as first-timers once, too.” The statement wasn’t loud, but it was like a shot ringing out, silencing any further mutters.

Silence hung for a breath. They exchanged glances, eyes sharp with wariness, doubt simmering just beneath. The shift was palpable, the tension stretching taut as realization sunk in: they thought he was under their influence, as if E’s enigmatic pull was some kind of intoxicating drug.

Below, E stumbled, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through their poise. The sight struck Logan, a sudden twist in his gut. “That’s it,” he muttered, blood boiling, as he pushed off from the console, ignoring the startled looks as he strode toward the door.

“Logan, where are you—” Jean started, but he was already gone, the metallic door sliding shut behind him.

Their back pressed against the rough façade of an artificial, crumbling building, muscles taut as they scanned the street past the corner they were hiding behind, E’s heart raced. The air hummed with the ambient sound of clanking metal and distant combat. The Danger Room was more relentless than they had expected, its projections more immersive and intricate than they could have imagined. Every inch of their being screamed for focus, but exhaustion—and most of all, hunger—gnawed at their resolve. The weight of the command center's watchful eyes, laced with thinly veiled animosity, chipped away at their energy reserves, a constant, draining reminder of how unwelcome they truly were. They had known this would be difficult, but not this punishing.

As they prepared to move forward, a flicker of movement caught their attention—a shimmering distortion in the air, just a few feet from them, cracking the illusion for a heartbeat. What now? Frustration and irritation surged within them as the projection rippled, revealing a familiar form stepping through the pixels. E’s eyes widened in surprise. Logan. His expression was stormy, unreadable as always, with a raw determination etched on his face. The glint of his left claws, half-drawn, made their breath catch for a split second before they realized he wasn’t there to attack. He moved swiftly to hide beside them, his back pressed against the artificial building. The air between them buzzed with the charge of their connection. Concern.

“What the hell are you doing here?” E whispered, their voice harsher than intended. The slight breathlessness in their tone betrayed them, and Logan’s keen senses didn’t miss it, catching the faint tremor at the edge of their stance.

His brows furrowed, deepening the lines carved by years of battle and unyielding reliability. “You look like hell,” he said bluntly, eyes searching theirs for the truth they stubbornly tried to hide. Up close, E could see the muscles in his jaw clenching, his instincts coiled tight. The primal protectiveness that had driven him past Jean’s concerned call was written in every line of his posture.

Above them, in the observation deck, the palpable, hostile energy grew, stoked by Logan’s intervention. E gritted their teeth, feeling its force like a storm pressing down on them, threatening to break through their resolve. They held their breath, adapting to the oppressive weight with each rapid heartbeat.

“I’m fine,” E countered sharply once they regained control of their voice, though the claim rang hollow. They turned away, ready to press on, but Logan’s voice caught them like a tether.

“You’re not,” he growled, inching closer, casting a shadow that darkened the line of their vision. The cold, glaring artificial sun above was a poor mimic of real warmth, but Logan’s presence radiated heat, grounding them amidst the surreal chaos.

A silence stretched between them and E hesitated, a moment’s pause in which the weight of their exhaustion threatened to spill over. The edge of their allure had dulled, they knew it—no subtle shimmer beneath their skin, no echo of energy. Where vitality had thrummed, there was now a draining emptiness, a void that was craving his touch, his admiration.

Logan’s gaze sharpened as he took in the rapid rise and fall of their chest, the glazed weariness in their guarded eyes, the dullness to their horns, the fine sheen of sweat glistening on their neck, and the way their fingers twitched inside their gloves as if struggling to suppress a tremor. He couldn’t ignore how different they seemed from the fierce, fluid form they’d shown two days ago. His instincts screamed at him to act, to pull them out of this self-inflicted trial.

“E,” he said, his tone softer now, the rough edge replaced with something raw, familiar. His right hand lifted, hesitating before landing on their shoulder, a steady weight that offered comfort.

They met his eyes, the defiance in their stare wavering briefly. For a breath, the noise of the Danger Room dulled, replaced by the heat between them. The test, the hunger, the harsh judgments—everything faded as Logan’s gaze anchored them. They nodded once, forcing a small smirk that Logan didn’t buy for a second.

“I’m good enough,” they murmured, the sharp edge of confidence slipping.

Logan didn’t flinch. His gaze didn’t waver, and the concern etched into his rugged features went far deeper than simple vigilance. It was something fiercer, more personal. “Don’t push it. You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I do, actually,” E said, glancing at the command center before meeting his eyes again.

The animosity above seemed to swell, the silent disapproval pricking at them like thorns, likely fed by Logan’s gesture. They rolled their shoulders, shrugging off his hand in an effort to appease the unspoken hostility growing from the observation deck. They couldn’t keep up with this for much longer. They had to end this soon, or the consequences—ones they wouldn’t dare imagine—would catch up to them.

With a deep breath, they set their jaw, the mask of sharp confidence snapping back into place. Pushing off from the wall, they squared their shoulders.

“Let’s finish this,” they said, their voice steady despite the strain.

Logan didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes as he fell into step beside them spoke volumes. This was no ordinary training exercise. The stakes had shifted, and he would be damned if he let anything happen to them.

With a shared glance, they pushed forward, moving through the chaos. The mechanical whisper of the Danger Room came back to life around them, roaring in E’s ears as they navigated the labyrinthine maze of twisted metal and simulated war-torn streets. Every turn, every shadow, tested their resolve. Every step was weighted by exhaustion, their body teetering on the edge of collapse, finding strength only in Logan’s unwavering presence at their side. The extraction point glimmered in the distance, a brief beacon of hope.

But that hope was short-lived.

A metallic groan rumbled through the air as a shadow stretched across the ground. E’s eyes snapped upward, and their breath caught in their chest. Towering above them, metal plating glinting under the harsh artificial light, stood a sentinel—its towering form ominous and all too real. The red glow of its eyes sent a shiver down their spine as it powered up, joints whirring with deadly intent.

“What the actual fuck?” they whispered, eyes wide as a brilliant laser beam split the air, barely missing them. They dove to the side, rolling onto the cracked pavement and pushing themselves up against a wall for protection, breathless.

Logan’s gaze darkened as he pressed his back next to them, his eyes narrowing to sharp slits as he processed the sight. “Really, guys?” he muttered, low and venomous, clearly directed at Scott and Hank, who undoubtedly had a hand in programming this nightmare. Fury coiled tight in his muscles, but he didn’t let it show. There was no time for anger—only action.

“What’s that thing?” E’s voice, despite its edge, wavered.

“Listen,” Logan said, gripping their arm and forcing their wide eyes to lock with his. “That’s a sentinel. A robot designed to kill every mutant it sees. We need to take it down.” His voice was as unyielding as steel, but beneath it lay something softer—belief. He trusted them.

E’s pulse hammered against their temples, but Logan’s resolve wrapped around them like a shield, momentarily blunting the razor-sharp hostility pricking at them from the command center. They nodded, swallowing hard as they reached behind their back, fingers parting the curtain of their black hair as they curled around the cool texture of two big metal rings. With a swift motion, they pulled the circular weapons free, their sharp edges catching the artificial light. Chakrams.

Logan’s brow arched, the barest hint of amusement twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Where did you—”

He didn’t get to finish. The sentinel’s red eyes flared, and another beam cut through the air. E’s eyes widened as they registered the attack a heartbeat before it struck. With a surge of adrenaline, they shoved Logan hard, propelling him out of harm’s way as they dove in the opposite direction. The ground shook beneath them as the beam exploded against the wall, scorching the surface where they'd stood mere seconds ago, debris scattering like shrapnel.

They hit the ground with a grunt, pain sparking up their shoulder, but there was no time to dwell on it. Pushing themselves up, E glanced over at Logan, who was already rising, eyes narrowed with a mix of frustration and admiration.

“No time to chat, pretty boy,” E muttered, gripping their chakrams between their indexes and thumbs as they locked eyes with him. Logan gave a sharp nod, the sound of his claws unsheathing a cold metallic promise.

Together, they moved with the seamless coordination of two souls bound by an unspoken connection—like a red thread pulling them through the chaos, guiding their every move. E darted forward, using their agility to keep the sentinel’s attention, chakrams slicing through the air with deadly precision. Each throw found a weak point—joints, sensors, anywhere that could be chipped away to disrupt its functioning—before returning to their fingers, drawn back by the essence they had infused into the circular weapons long ago. The sentinel’s massive hand swung in retaliation, narrowly missing them as they twisted out of its reach.

Logan took the opening, charging up the sentinel’s back with the ferocity of a man who knew how to make every second count. His claws gleamed as he latched onto the metal plating, scaling the behemoth with a speed that defied logic. Sparks flew as he plunged his claws into the nape of its neck, tearing through wires and circuits with a snarl.

The sentinel stuttered, its movements jerking as it faltered. With a final, violent lurch, it began to collapse, metal shrieking as it toppled forward like a giant felled by time itself. Logan leapt down, landing in a crouch just as the robot crashed to the ground with a sound that echoed through the chamber.

E turned, breath heaving, as the dust settled around them. Relief surged in their chest, but the victory was fleeting. A sudden noise—an ominous creak—rippled through the air. E’s eyes snapped up just in time to see a chunk of debris, dislodged from a nearby structure, plummeting toward them.

Before they could react, Logan was there, moving faster than seemed possible. He grabbed them by the waist, yanking them to the side as the debris smashed into the ground where they had just stood. The impact threw up a pixeled cloud of dust, metal dressed in a stone-like sheen skittering across the cracked surface.

Logan’s arm stayed wrapped around them, the weight of his protective embrace more solid than the chaos surrounding them. For a moment, everything was silent except the pounding of their hearts. E looked up at him, eyes wide and stunned, and caught the raw, unguarded look on his face—one that spoke of fear and relief mingled with something deeper.

“You good?” he rasped, voice low and tight.

E nodded slowly, catching their breath as he released them from his hold. The warmth lingered on their skin and their throat became dry, forcing them to clear it. “Yeah,” they whispered, the reality of their near miss finally sinking in. The sentinel was down, but it wasn’t over. Not yet. Though, with Logan’s eyes locked on theirs, the weight of the hostile energy above felt a little less suffocating.

Around them, the holographic shield shimmered and fizzled out, leaving an eerie silence in its wake as the walls of the Danger Room shifted and retracted, returning the space to its usual stark, featureless expanse. The air was thick with tension, the adrenaline still pumping in their veins.

E couldn’t help but smirk, the exhaustion still gnawing at them but not enough to mask the small victory. “I think we make a pretty good team,” they said, their voice betraying the tremor of weariness that ran deep.

Logan shot them a sideways glance, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite the concern still written on his face. “Yeah, just don’t get used to me saving your ass,” he muttered, though his words lacked the usual bite. Beneath the gruff tone, there was something softer—almost affectionate.

E raised an eyebrow, a challenge dancing in their tired gaze. “Oh, don’t worry,” they teased back, reaching behind and slipping their chakrams into the small crochets sewn into the back of their tunic, where they rested securely, hidden beneath their long, disheveled hair. They opened their mouth to say more, wiping sweat from their neck, but before the words could form, the door to the Danger Room slid open with a hiss.

Logan’s instincts flared to life, sharper than ever. He moved in front of E without hesitation, his broad form a solid wall between them and the approaching team. His eyes darkened with barely suppressed rage, chest heaving as he fought to control it.

“What the hell, guys?” Logan’s voice cut through the silence, rough and seething. “This was supposed to be training. You used a fucking sentinel? On someone who’s never used the Danger Room before?” His glare was as raw as his voice, daring anyone to challenge him.

Scott’s jaw tightened, meeting Logan’s gaze with a stoic defiance. “We needed to see what they could do in a non-controlled environment,” he countered, his cool tone only fueling Logan’s fury further. The tension between them thickened, crackling with unspoken animosity.

Logan took a step forward, fists clenched, eyes blazing with unrestrained aggression. His face flushed red, a clear warning that he was dangerously close to losing it.

“Logan.” The calm, steady voice of Charles Xavier sliced through the tension, his wheelchair gliding smoothly between them. His eyes held a mix of reproach and understanding. “It was indeed a bit too much,” he acknowledged, addressing the group. “But we’ve learned something valuable. E showed they can work with the team. They fought well with Logan.”

A small scoff escaped Scott’s lips, the sound turning Logan’s rage into a furnace. “Of course, they did,” Scott muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking between them. “It’s easy for lovers to fight in sync.”

The words struck like a match to gasoline, igniting the fire in Logan’s chest. His jaw clenched so tightly it felt like his teeth might crack. He moved forward, but a cold hand—trembling, far lighter than it should have been—landed on his forearm. The movement froze him, and he glanced down, meeting E’s gaze. Their face was pale, drawn, the defiance in their eyes replaced with an exhaustion so profound it was almost tangible. Their knees buckled slightly, and in an instant, Logan’s anger was gone, replaced by a wave of deep, gut-wrenching concern.

He reached out, catching them in his arms, steadying them as their body swayed. “Easy,” he growled, his voice softening, becoming more protective. His focus shifted entirely to them, every instinct urging him to shield them from the glare of the team.

With a quick glance at the others, Logan’s eyes hardened again, colder than ice. “This isn’t over,” he spat, teeth bared in a silent promise, his words dripping with warning. He didn’t care to explain further, focusing instead on E. Without another word, he gently guided them out of the Danger Room, his movements deliberate as he shielded them from the questions, the stares, and the storm he would unleash later.

For now, only one thing mattered—getting them out of there and making sure they were okay.

The walk to E’s bedroom felt longer than it should have. Logan's arm stayed firmly wrapped around their waist, guiding them as their steps faltered. They leaned on him heavily, their usually sharp gaze clouded with exhaustion.

When they finally reached the door, Logan pushed it open, leading them inside and helping them sit down on the edge of the bed. E reached over their shoulder, carefully pulling the chakrams from their tunic and placing them on the bed beside them, the metallic weight a comfort against the soft fabric. With a sigh, they removed their gloves, setting them beside the weapons.

Logan stayed close, his eyes scanning their face, searching for any sign of what was wrong. Their breathing was ragged, an unusual warmth radiating from them as sweat slid down their skin. Their fingers clutched the blanket beneath them, as though it was the only thing holding them steady.

He sat beside them, the mattress dipping under his weight. He didn’t want to leave, not when they looked like they were hanging by a thread.

“Logan…” Their voice broke, weaker than he’d ever heard it, and a tremor ran through them. There was more than just exhaustion—there was fear in their tone that made something in his chest tighten.

He shifted closer, brows furrowing as he studied them. “You okay? You look like hell.”

A faint, breathless laugh escaped them, but there was no humor in it. “Thanks… exactly what I needed to hear.” The words came out flat, without their usual teasing edge. They tried to stand, legs trembling beneath them. “I just need an hour… outside, and I’ll be fine. It’s… nothing.”

Logan’s reflexes were quicker than their unsteady movements. Rising too, his hand shot out, grabbing their arm before they could collapse. “No way in hell you’re goin’ anywhere like that. You’re burnin’ up.”

“I’ll be fine…” E muttered, trying to pull away, but there was no strength behind it.

He tightened his hold, eyes narrowing. “Are you on somethin’? Drugs?” His free hand shot to their forehead before settling on their cheek, searching their eyes for any sign of intoxication.

They laughed again, hollow and cracked, leaning into his touch instinctively. “I wish it were that simple.”

Logan’s frustration flared, his patience thinning as he gripped both their shoulders between his hands. “What do you mean by that?”

Their eyes met his—dark and shadowed with exhaustion, and something else. Something resigned. “I can’t live on food alone, Logan. I need… more.”

“The hell does that mean?” He wasn’t sure if he was angry, worried, or both. No, definitely both.

They swallowed hard, gaze falling as their voice dropped to a whisper. “Emotions. Desire, joy, lust… worship.” The last word left their lips like a breath, carrying a desperate weight that made his gut twist.

He went rigid, realization dawning on him. It was starting to make sense—the way they came at him at first, their playful behavior, the way their energy surged when they sparred, how they seemed to pull at him without even trying. It wasn’t just empowerment, it was sustenance.

“Negative energy drains me,” they continued, each word sounding like it took effort. “Criticism, doubt, disdain… it’s why I’m like this. Because of the team’s… distrust. But you… you’re like a damn buffet to me.” Their gaze locked onto his, more serious than he’d ever seen it, a deep, ravenous hunger veiling their vision. “Your healing ability… it’s dangerous for me. It makes me want to eat you alive. It’s hard to resist.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, processing their words. Finally, he asked, “So, what the hell do you need to feel better?”

E’s hand trembled as it reached up to cup his cheek. Their touch was light, hesitant, but it felt like fire against his skin. “There’s a solution… but I won’t force you. I’d rather die than hurt anyone again.”

Logan’s eyes searched theirs, taking in the raw pain and sadness—a vulnerability he’d only glimpsed until now. Something deep inside him shifted.

“If I can help… just tell me.”

Their eyes flashed with desperation, a glimmer of something dark and intense. “Kneel.”

He stiffened, caught off guard. The command hung between them like a challenge. Their tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried weight he couldn’t ignore. He could push back, deflect, but then they whispered, “Please.” The word, almost a cry, trembled out of their lips.

The softness of it cut through his defenses. With a grunt, he exhaled sharply and sank to one knee, his eyes never leaving theirs, still unsure but unable to pull away.

E moved closer, the fabric of their sweatpants brushing against his nose, their unique scent—spice wrapped in smoke—filling his senses and clouding his thoughts. Their tail slipped free, caressing his cheek like a soft, warm breeze. As the energy between them shifted, Logan caught sight of their horns subtly lengthening, the tips darkening to a crimson hue that shimmered with a subtle pulse.

“Is there anything about me you find attractive?” Their voice was softer now, teasing but tinged with need.

Logan's gaze flickered to their hips for the briefest moment before he forced himself to look back up. “Maybe,” he muttered, heat pooling in his lower belly.

E sighed, their tail trailing down his neck. “I can feel that. Your pulse… it’s quickening. It’s not enough to make me better… but it’s a start.”

Their fingers slid into his hair, gentle but firm, tilting his head back slightly. “Tell me, Logan. What would you do to me if I let you touch me?”

He swallowed hard, his breath shallow, unable to fight the images their words conjured. The pull in his chest tightened as if they tugged on it, firm and relentless. His voice dropped, low and feral. “I’d… I’d hold you by the hips. Smell you.”

E shuddered at his confession, eyes closing as they soaked in his desire, a deep sigh escaping their lips. The strength they had lost was starting to return, slow but sure, coursing through their veins like a lifeline.

“You’re not allowed to touch me,” they whispered, their voice more commanding now as they felt his muscles tense under their tail. “But I grant you the right to imagine it.”

The impact of their words hit him harder than he expected, his reason struggling to keep control. His jaw clenched, and he felt E’s hand lightly combing through his hair, each stroke sending a sharp pulse of heat down his spine. The weight of their touch made his blood rush faster, thrumming beneath his skin, coaxing everything he’d tried to keep buried to the surface without apology.

“Keep going,” they ordered in a breath. “What else do you want to do to me?”

Logan groaned low as E's hand tightened in his hair, forcing his gaze to meet theirs. Their eyes burned with something primal, hunger so raw that there was no room for hesitation. He knew that look, but this time, it wasn’t controlled or smooth—there was desperation hidden beneath it, like a storm tearing through their soul, destroying everything in its wake. And that desperation was pulling at him, unraveling every shred of restraint he had left.

E's lips curled into a smile as they felt his struggle. “Tell me, pretty boy,” they cooed softly, their voice laced with an intoxicating sweetness.

He clenched his teeth, eyes shutting tight, fighting to push back the images flickering through his mind. He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to admit it. But their power, the praise, their sultry words, were messing with him in ways he couldn’t resist, coaxing out the desires he kept buried deep inside. The energy swirling around them was intoxicating.

E's fingers curled tighter, pulling his head back, forcing him to look at them again. “Use your words. Be a good boy,” they continued, their tail caressing his neck. “You know you want to.”

Logan growled, fighting the urge to let it all out. The shame mixed with desire was like a drug to them. He could feel it—E's energy was returning, and with it, the confidence they had lost just moments ago. Their posture shifted, becoming more commanding, more certain, towering over him.

“Words! Now!” Their voice crackled like thunder in his mind, no longer a request but an order, sharp and insistent.

His pulse pounded in his neck, and he knew they felt it too—the barely controlled beast inside him, clawing to break free. “You sure you can handle that?” he muttered, voice rough and strained, as though dragging each word up from the depths of his soul. The restraint cost him dearly, but their nearness made it impossible to hold back.

E’s eyes, dark with a hunger that now matched his own, met his. “I need it, Logan. I need you.”

The simple admission shattered the last of his resolve. Their gaze pulled him in, command and vulnerability twisting him tighter. His breath came harsh, uneven, his lips parted as the words slipped out before he could stop them. “You want to know what I’d do?” His voice dropped to a low growl, fingers curling at his sides, desperate to act on the vivid images in his mind. “I’d pull you so close there wouldn’t be an inch left between us. Make you feel every bit of what you’ve done to me.”

A shiver ran through them, their chest rising as they drew in a shaky breath. The tension between them thickened, electric. Confidence surged in them, and they leaned into him, letting his energy flow through them like a wildfire finding dry kindling, a soft laughter bubbling in their chest.

“Don’t stop.” Their voice, now more than a whisper, carried an edge of authority. “Tell me everything that runs through that gorgeous head of yours.”

Logan’s breath hitched, muscles tensed with the war waged inside him. His gaze turned predatory, and he felt the last barrier of control splinter. He drew closer, his forehead almost touching their leg, so their scent—spice wrapped in smoke—was the only thing filling his thoughts. “I’d take my time… pulling your pants down. Start with your thighs, kiss every inch—”

Something snapped inside them. E gasped, the intense rush faltering as their grip on the bond loosened. A sudden softness overtook their movements, the intoxicating power that radiated from them wavering.

They stepped back abruptly as they came back to their senses, eyes wide with a mix of concern and regret. The haze in Logan’s mind lifted, confusion colliding with clarity, his pulse still thrumming with the heat of the moment. He blinked, shaking his head as he caught his breath, eyes searching theirs. “What… what was that?” he asked, his voice soft with confusion.

“I’m sorry, I should have been more careful,” they whispered, kneeling in front of him, their hands trembling slightly as they reached for his cheek and shoulder, their composure slipping. E’s fingers brushed back a strand of his hair, gentle. “I got carried away. It… can happen sometimes, when the hunger is too strong. I lost control. I pushed too far. I’m so sorry.” They studied him, their eyes scanning his face for any sign of damage. “Are you okay?” E asked softly, their voice more tentative now.

“I guess so,” Logan muttered, still unsure of what had just happened.

E slowly rose to their feet, one hand extended toward him. He exhaled, the last embers of their moment cooling, and took their offered hand. The tension between them now mixed with lingering desire and mutual understanding.

Logan felt the force of E’s strength as they effortlessly pulled him up, the realization hitting him that they were back to their full power. Despite the energy that coursed through them, embarrassment was written all over their face. “Thank you, Logan.” Their voice still carried the worry they’d shown a few seconds ago. He caught the shift in their demeanor, but his response came naturally. “It’s okay.”

E, however, wasn’t so easily soothed. Sitting on the edge of their bed, they shook their head, avoiding his gaze. "No. It’s not okay," they muttered. "A normal person could have been seriously hurt from that.” Their words trailed off, and Logan could see the craving still burning behind their eyes—a flicker of something deeper, darker, barely restrained. “Good thing you heal fast…"

Their horns had returned to their smaller size now, but he knew that look. The hunger wasn’t gone.

Logan’s eyes couldn’t leave them, and he sat beside them, the bed protesting under his weight. "You're not done, are you?" His tone was blunt but laced with understanding. "You need more."

E sighed, and for a moment, their confident, commanding presence crumbled, leaving them looking small, vulnerable, and uncertain. "Yeah, I do," they admitted quietly. "I've been hungry… for most of my life. Pretty much since the day I awakened… which cost me someone’s life."

Logan didn’t push for details, though the weight of their words hinted at a story full of pain and regret. If they wanted to share it, they would. He wasn’t the type to force anyone into reliving their worst memories.

Instead, he asked a more practical question. "How do you usually deal with it? The hunger, I mean."

E's gaze shifted, as if deciding how much to tell him. "I find people who agree to let me… feed on them." The word clearly didn’t sit right with them, the frown on their face making it obvious. "I go to clubs, feed on the emotions in the crowd, or find a lover who’s up for a night of pleasure."

Logan's brow furrowed, caught off guard by the ease with which they said it. He wasn’t a prude, not by a long shot, but the detachment in their voice was something else. It sparked his curiosity.

"What do you mean? You can feed on… sex?" His voice was rough, but the question hung between them, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied their reaction.

A sad smile tugged at their lips. "Yeah, I can. I only did it once… and someone died." They hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I make them feel good instead. I feed on their emotions, not their life force. I'm a giver, only."

Logan blinked as the realization hit him. "So if you have sex with someone, they die?" The weight of it settled in his mind. "So that means… you haven’t… since?"

E shrugged, their expression resigned. "I haven’t had sex in the way you conceive it in roughly… 250 years, give or take… maybe it’s 260. Time gets blurry after a while."

"Wow…" was all Logan could manage, his mind reeling from the thought. A pretty thing like them, not having been with anyone in… centuries? His thoughts drifted, imagining it, and he felt his face warm slightly before he caught himself. But before he could hide it, E chuckled.

"I can sense you’re thinking about me again," they warned, a hint of humor glinting in their eyes despite the sadness. "Did I get too much into your head?"

Logan grunted, but a smirk tugged at his lips. "You wish." Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something here, something raw and uncharted. An opportunity that could satisfy the primal part of him always searching for more—a connection that might, even for a moment, quiet his restless spirit.

“How do you keep the hunger in control around the kids here?” His voice softened as he spoke, more carefully this time, a rare edge of concern threading through his words.

A long, strained silence filled the space between them. E’s expression darkened, the raw vulnerability that slipped through making Logan’s chest tighten. Their shoulders slumped, and for a moment, they looked impossibly small, their strength faltering under the weight of their admission. “I don’t.” The words were soft, but the heaviness in them rang louder than any shout. “I haven’t properly fed since I got here… which is also why… I had that meltdown.” E’s gaze faltered, a rare crack in their usually unshakable facade. "I don’t want to hurt them, Logan. They're just kids. Too innocent. I… I don’t want to corrupt them with this."

Logan’s throat tightened as he processed the weight of their words. Their restraint was admirable, but the flicker of concern in his chest grew into something heavier, a gnawing worry that lodged deep. What if he hadn’t been there to help? Who would they have turned to? The thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

“Maybe…” He hesitated, unsure whether his next words would cross a line. But they were already on the tip of his tongue, and his protective instincts pushed him to speak. “Maybe we could work out an agreement.”

E looked at him, brow furrowing in confusion, the weight of his offer hanging in the air. “What do you mean?”

He leaned forward, his voice low but deliberate, eyes never leaving theirs. “Well, if I’m a walking buffet, might as well grab a bite now and then, right?” He tried to keep his tone gruff, but the underlying implication was clear—he wasn’t just talking about feeding.

They stared at him, disbelief written all over their face. Logan added quickly, “To keep the kids safe, you know…” His voice dropped, edged with something deeper—a personal stake he couldn’t quite define.

E’s chuckle filled the room again, their eyes gleaming with amusement. “Convenient,” they said, seeing through his cover but not arguing. If Logan was offering, who were they to say no?

“I mean,” he carried on, voice low and rough, as he tried to push past the weight of their amusement. “No strings attached, you know? Just a quick fix once in a while. Maybe you could try bein’ a little selfish. Not just givin’, but takin’ too, to blow off some steam.” He leaned in a little closer, his words edging toward a challenge, a hint of something dangerous in the way he spoke.

A slow, teasing smirk spread across E’s lips, their eyes gleaming with something dark and playful and Logan couldn’t help but remember how he first thought they would be trouble. And, oh boy, had he been right. It was written all over their face again, but hell, maybe that’s what made life worth livin’. Though, instead of jumping into his offer, E shrugged, playing it cool. “Yeah, sure,” they said nonchalantly, “if you’re up for it… And if you think you can handle my games." Their eyes glinted with amusement, but they left the offer hang in the air for a few heartbeats. "Maybe we can work something out.” There was another pause. “Just to keep the kids safe.”

Logan chuckled, the sound rough but laced with genuine amusement. “Of course. Just to keep the kids safe.” Though, the words were more loaded than either of them were willing to admit.

Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding flickering between them before silence settled, thick and charged. Then, E stood, a shift in their demeanor as they moved with purpose. “So, if we’re going to do this, might as well make it good for the both of us, right? What do you like most?” They flashed a playful smile. “Guy? Girl?”

As they spoke, their form shimmered, shifting into a strikingly handsome man. Logan’s brow lifted, eyes narrowing as he assessed the change with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. The ease with which they wore this unfamiliar face made him feel both intrigued and guarded, muscles unconsciously tensing in response. Before he could fully process the thought, E shifted back into their original form, and he felt his heartbeat slow to its usual rhythm.

“Want me to look like someone you know?” they teased, voice laced with something darker, a playful glint sharp in their eyes. Logan’s gut clenched as E’s features rippled, reshaping into Ororo’s elegant visage. The sight tugged at a memory of storms and shared battles, sparking a flicker of warmth that was swiftly overtaken by wariness. Then Scott’s face emerged, stern and self-assured, making Logan’s teeth clench involuntarily—old rivalries resurfacing for a brief, silent heartbeat. But it was the final shift that gutted him: Jean. The phantom ache hit him hard, a rush of regret and want tangled in an old wound he thought long scarred over. He forced himself to stay stoic, the turmoil in his chest hidden beneath a practiced frown. E’s eyes glimmered with mischief as they returned to their usual form, gaze locking with his in an unspoken challenge.

But they weren’t done.

“What about plain old me?" The question carried a whisper of vulnerability, softening the edges of their usual bravado. Before Logan could catch his breath, they morphed again, this time into something unexpected: tanned skin glowing warmly, innocent blue eyes staring back at him, long, wavy brown hair that spilled down to their knees. The transformation stunned him, a contrast so striking it made the breath catch in his throat. The unfamiliar curve of their smile, the way their presence seemed more tender yet powerful—it tugged at something primal, something he hadn’t expected.

Logan’s gaze lingered, caught off guard as curiosity tangled with an unexpected coil of desire. He felt his senses sharpen, instinct flaring as the tension between caution and temptation thrummed just beneath his skin, daring him to stay composed, even as the line between control and surrender blurred at the edges.

Hell, they knew exactly what they were doin'.

He let out a low breath, eyes steady on them. "Take the one you like most," he said finally, his voice thick with the weight of it all. "I’m good with whatever. Might as well be comfortable, you know." There was a small pause before a few more words slipped out. "But I gotta admit…" He smirked, unable to hold back. "Leaves some interestin' ideas."

There was a spark of amusement in his eyes now, the prospect of what could come. So many versions of them, so many ways this could go.

Logan kept his cool on the outside, but his thoughts were racing. He wasn’t exactly shy about what he liked, and the way E changed forms so effortlessly was unlike anything he'd seen. The possibilities? Endless. And for a guy who'd lived as long as he had, it took something special to surprise him.

But as much as his mind wandered over the many options in front of him, there was still that feeling — something deeper than just lust. Maybe it was the way E seemed so guarded under the teasing and power. The way they tried to make everything sound casual, even though Logan could see the weight of their long, lonely existence hanging on their shoulders. It made him pause.

He leaned back again, his hands on the mattress behind him, taking in their latest form — tanned skin, long brown hair, blue eyes. It was tempting to let them become someone else, someone new every time. But then, something clicked. “You don’t have to change for me, you know,” he said, voice a little softer, but still with that signature gruffness. “I kinda like you the way you are.”

The smirk on E’s face flickered, like they weren’t expecting that. It wasn’t just the words — it was the way he said it. Like he actually meant it. They stood there for a second longer, holding his gaze, before they shifted back into the form they always wore until now. Still powerful, still beautiful, but now with a hint of vulnerability they didn’t usually show.

Logan’s lips twitched, just a hint of a smile. “Besides,” he added, his voice dropping lower, “I’m not exactly picky. Just as long as you can handle me.”

E chuckled, walking closer. “I think I can manage,” they said, though there was a glimmer of something else in their eyes now. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was relief. Whatever it was, Logan wasn’t sure yet. But he’d figure it out eventually. After all, it wasn't just about keeping the kids safe anymore. There was something more brewing here, and Logan could feel it.

But for now, he played along, letting the tension between them hang in the air. He knew this settlement was going to get messy, but hey, hadn’t that been always the case for him? At least this time, he’ll get some fun out of it.

Logan smirked, still taking in everything E had just shown him. He’d seen a lot in his time, but nothing like this. It was a display of pure power, confidence, and—hell, he couldn’t deny it—beauty. His curiosity got the better of him as he spoke, voice low. "What’s your real form, anyway?" he asked, genuinely intrigued. "And… is E even your real name?"

E smirked, clearly enjoying the effect they were having on him. Slowly, they shifted back into the form of the young woman with the long, wavy brown hair that cascaded down to nearly touch their knees, tanned skin glowing faintly in the dim light. Their piercing blue eyes locked with his, intense and unyielding. The two horns above their hairline, now fully extended, had the sheen of polished obsidian, gradually darkening to a deep red at the tips, adding an almost regal fierceness to their look. Their thin tail moved with a life of its own, curling toward his cheek as it had earlier, the only constant in their shifting forms.

A pair of feathered wings unfurled from their back, the inky black plumage fading to a crimson red at the edges, casting subtle shadows across the room. It was an image of raw power and allure, both ominous and breathtaking in equal measure. But what really got him was the way their hips swayed as they moved closer, drawing his attention like gravity itself.

"This is my real form," they said, their voice soft but laced with power. "Once, I was Amrit, Amrit Kaur Singh. But that was centuries ago. When they revealed themselves…” Their wings twitched at their back, a subtle shift betraying old memories. “I became Ezekiel. Ezekiel Nepharael.” E let the name float in the air between them for a couple of heartbeats. “I sometimes go by Eki or Zeek, depending on whether I’m feeling more… feminine or masculine. But for most people, I’m just E."

Logan felt like his mouth had gone dry, his eyes glued to them as the energy in the room practically buzzed around them. The wings, the tail, the horns—it was like nothing he’d ever seen, but damn if it wasn’t mesmerizing. His throat felt tight as he tried to form words.

"You like what you see, pretty boy?" E teased, their smirk widening as they stepped closer once again, a playful gleam in their eye. It wasn’t even a question, more like a statement of an universal fact. They could feel his reaction, sense the heat of his desire.

Logan, despite himself, nodded, a muscle in his jaw tightening as he struggled to keep composed. "Yeah…" he managed, the word caught somewhere between disbelief and desire, his voice rough and breathless under the weight of it all.

E’s smile softened, though, almost tender, like they were savoring every drop of the power they felt from him. It wasn’t just lust—they could feel the admiration, the curiosity. They took a slow breath, as if inhaling his energy, their smile growing even more gentle before they pulled back, releasing the hold they had on him.

Logan blinked, shaking his head as if snapping out of a spell. “I mean…” he cleared his throat, regaining a bit of his composure. “Yeah, that’s… that’s okay, I guess.” A smug smile curled on his lips.

E chuckled softly, the sound rich with amusement. They shifted back to their favorite form, casually sitting on the bed, still exuding the same undeniable confidence as if they were wearing something far more formal than their simple sportswear. "So," they said with a playful smile, "how do you propose we handle this agreement, Mr. Howlett?"

Logan cleared his throat again, his gaze meeting theirs with an edge of concern. "I’m not gonna sell my soul to the devil, right?" he asked, half-joking, but there was a quiet unease gnawing at him, like something deep inside was warning him.

E chuckled again, shaking their head. "No, don’t worry. I’m only in the business of pleasure, not deals. And I’m a giver, remember?"

"Right," Logan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he mulled over the details. "Well… whenever you’re feeling… peckish, just knock on my door. I’ll do the same. If one of us doesn’t feel like it, then nothing happens. No strings. I don’t owe you anything, you don’t owe me anything."

E nodded, clearly pleased with the terms. "Fair enough," they said, but their smile turned sly again as they leaned forward, adding, "Anything you’d rather avoid? Things you don’t like doing?"

Logan's mind flashed to the moment they'd almost shared a kiss under the stars a couple of nights ago. He felt a shudder at the memory of the pull he'd felt, like he was going to be drained dry. "No kissing," he said firmly. "Also… maybe we should keep this between us. No one can know. And… well, if something makes either of us uncomfortable, we stop. No explanations.” He paused, briefly considering, but nothing else seemed necessary. “Yeah, that’s it. That’s all I ask."

E’s smile softened, genuine this time. They nodded. "Agreed. I’ll have the paperwork for you tomorrow." Their eyes sparkled with amusement, and despite himself, Logan chuckled.

"What?" E asked, amused. "I’m still a lawyer, pretty boy," they teased.

This time, the nickname sent a new warmth through Logan’s chest, one he wasn’t quite prepared for. Clearing his throat again, he stood up. "Well, if you don’t need me tonight, I’ll see you around, counselor."

E smirked, watching him intently, their eyes sweeping over his broad shoulders and the way he moved. "Of course you will," they purred, their voice low and full of promise.

He was halfway to the door when they called out. "Logan?" They waited until he turned to look back at them, their eyes softer now. "Thanks again. And… goodnight."

He gave them a small nod, his voice low as he responded, "You too." Without another word, he left the room, the weight of their offer—and whatever this was between them—still lingering heavy in his mind.

To be continued…

Notes: Curious about what does E looks like? Check out their moodboard. If you enjoyed it, don't forget to comment and spread the love 😊 More on the way!

✨ Masterlist ✨

Don't forget to follow the tags "Devilish Desires" and "xpressit writings" to stay tuned for the next chapters 😁

🔖 @quillycrow

[docgold13]

Heroes & Villains The DC Animated Universe - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

The Green Lantern

John Stewart spent much of his youth in the care of his uncle and among his fondest memories was reading Justice Guild of America comics after school.  He went on to serve in the United States Marine Corps where was a decorated soldier.  Some time thereafter, Stewart was recruited by the Guardians of the Universe to join the Green Lantern Corps. 

Green Lanterns were bestowed an energy ring fueled by one’s will that could create powerful, hard-light constructs.  Stewart trained under the veteran Lantern, Katma Tui, learning to wield these awesome powers.  

Eventually Stewart was assigned the Green Lantern guardian of Sector 2814, a region of space that included earth.  This allowed him to return to his home planet and, shortly after his return, Stewart was telepathically contacted by the Martian, J’onn J’onzz.  Hailing the call, Stewart joined the other heroes of earth in forming The Justice League so to fend off the invading forces of The Imperium.

Stewart continued on as a member of the League, growing especially close with his teammate, Hawkgirl.  The two become romantically involved yet their affair was cut short when Hawkgirl was reveled to be a sleeper agent for a Thanagarian invasion force.  

Hawkgirl would eventually betray her own people so to help save the earth.  Although she and Stewart remained greatly attracted to one another, a trust had been broken and Stewart was reluctant to once more opening himself up to heartbreak.  There is significant reason to believe the two ultimately worked through these issue, however, in that an adventure involving time-travel saw Stewart meeting his and Hawkgirl’s adult son, Warbird.  

Voice actor extraordinaire, Phil LeMar, provided the voice for John Stewart with the Lantern first appearing in the second episode of the first season of Justice League, ‘Secret origins Part Two.’   

[luckiestplartt]

For my Literature class i was allowed to make a short comic adaptation of a literary work that influenced me, so I picked Demian. If you want to read my explanation of why I picked it and made certain decisions, you can read it under the cut ! :)

[It is 862 words. I only needed to write 2 paragraphs. I... really like this book LOL]

I chose to adapt Herman Hesse's "Demian" because it's a very influential book for me. I saw myself in the protagonist, Emil Sinclair in how he worries about what other people think of him as a kid, leading him to tell different lies to different people. His struggle to rationalize what is "good" or "evil" is rooted in his religious upbringing, and his first step towards discovering himself and his own values is from someone (Demian) telling him a different perspective, and inviting him to think for himself. I felt seen in how Sinclair wants to be guided by others, but feels unable to teach others, and seeing him eventually reach independence makes me want to reach that point too. He starts off the book seperating things into binaries like Man and Woman, Good and Evil, but over the course of the book those concepts start to overlap and gray for him. He admires Demian and Beatrice for being a boy with feminine features, and a girl with masculine features, and when he eventually meets Frau Eva, he loves how handsome she is. The scene I adapted, where he sees himself in his own painting, not visually but emotionally, really connects with me as an artist who puts themself into their work, and gets a slightly better understanding of myself when I first step back and look at it. I don't want my pictures to look like a mirror of me, but still reflect me somehow. And with my experience with gender, I see myself in Sinclair's idealization of androgyny, even if those sorts of words would not be used at the time. This connection I felt with the book helped move me to read more classic literature and see myself in them.

I decided for the first page to not have a lot of narration because I felt that it could be told through pictures. The scene starts with the sun "slanting red through my window" during sunset, and "Inside my room it was dusk", which gave me my color palette for the comic; reds and warm purples. Sinclair is not very detailed in the first page because I thought it would feel more atmospheric, and to emphasize the self discovery on the second page. The three panels on the bottom were repeated with subtle changes in expression to give the feeling of time passing as, in the narration, "For a long time I sat oppposite it even after the picture had faded out." He blends in with the light of the painting because of how much he's taking it in; the last panel's sudden contrast is the moment of realization leading up to the next page. The painting's sudden detail is partly because I got too into drawing it, but is so important that it should be in substantially more detail; it is a catalyst for Sinclair, and it is symbolic of his connections (and future connections) in the book. Besides Sinclair's emotions, it is the most detailed description in that scene, and the way he describes it radiates joy and excitement.

The first panel of page two has vague drawings of Beatrice and Demian, with Sinclair sparking with recognition. I wanted him to have a similiar feeling as the painting, glowing with color, because this is an important moment for him. Beatrice is not very detailed because he has never talked to her; she is someone who he saw on the street and admired, and at that point, he had not met Demian in years. "But myself" is split from the sentance to give more emphasis on his revelation. The second panel's narration is split but tied together to make it feel more floaty and slow, to emphasize each point, and to help direct readers to the next panel with Demian (the lines in the last panel are also supposed to help cheat with that). The text around Demian purposefully switches alignment and leaves extra space to 1) help connect the flow of narration from the second to the fourth panel, and 2) because it conveys Sinclair's semi-divine view of Demian (masculine and feminine, youthful and mature). The woman in the fourth panel (who he later realizes to be Frau Eva) has especially split narration because he doesn't know her yet, and she is a dreamy "ideal" to him; she isn't concrete in his world yet. For panel 2 and 5, there is an egg cracking and a bird flying off as a reference to a motif later on in the book; "The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born first must destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas." This quote has found its way into media inspired by Demian, and influences how people see the characters, and it's an especially touching quote because of how strong and confident it feels. If the bird (Sinclair) is not able to break his egg (the sheltered world he grew up in), he will never "hatch" and fly to Abraxas (self-discovery). It felt especially important to me to include this motif even if it hasn't technically appeared in the book yet, because it is a perfect metaphor for growing up and for Emil Sinclair.

[androxys]

Nanda Parbat in 30 Seconds

I know Nanda Parbat gets used as a League of Assassins base a lot in fan media, likely because that was how it was depicted in Arrow. But I wanted to take a second and try to impress upon you how cool Nanda Parbat is without having anything to do with Ra's al Ghul (because it usually doesn't)

What is Nanda Parbat?

Nanda Parbat is a fictional city sequestered up somewhere in the Himalayas. It's hard to tell exactly where, because the whole premise of Nanda Parbat is that it's a magic hidden city.

You can't just walk there; individuals must embark on a pilgrimage to actually get there. Nanda Parbat is as much an idea as it is a real location-- when you seek Nanda Parbat, you are looking for spiritual development and revelation.

It's suggested that only those with good intentions can find the city on their own. However, there are maps to the city, which can allow those with evil intent into Nanda Parbat. The map isn't your typical piece of paper, though. It's split into components such as a birthmark, or a poem.

Once you're in Nanda Parbat, time stands still. The city is eternally at peace. Disease does not progress, and people do not die. You are the only thing that changes, transformed by your time in the unchanging city.

Who's In Nanda Parbat?

The big name in Nanda Parbat is Rama Kushna, the goddess who inhabits the temple.

When people go to Nanda Parbat on their quest for enlightenment, sometimes they find it on their own, and sometimes they have some help from Rama Kushna. She does your typical goddess stuff, such as guiding the hand of virtuous fighters and offering wisdom.

Rama Kushna is also the one who made Boston Brand into Deadman, after he was murdered. The two have a whole history, but that's its own thing.

The rest of Nanda Parbat's population are the monks who reside around the temple. They meditate and reflect on the meaning of everything and guard the Fountain of Youth.

Wait, the Fountain of Youth?

Yes, the Fountain of Youth is a thing in DC Comics. It played a big part in the crossover event The Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul. Long story short, Ra's al Ghul died and couldn't be revived in a Lazarus Pit, so his consciousness spent some time body jumping. The problem was, his spirit would burn out the host bodies, so he hoped to use the Fountain to stabilize himself. A rival faction of assassins that had come to power when Ra's was dead want to stop him from getting revived to full strength, so they assemble the aforementioned map to get to Nanda Parbat and destroy the Fountain before Ra's can get to it.

The Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul is not a kind story to Nanda Parbat. It pretty much gets razed to the ground by the conflict between Ra's, the rival faction, and Batman.

The monks explicitly tell Ra's off for bringing violence and death to the city. The monks channel the power of Rama Kushna and cause an earthquake, forcing everyone to leave the city.

If you're interested in reading more about Nanda Parbat, I really recommend reading the series 52! There are several appearances here, with lots of characters passing through on their own journeys. The Deadman series also has a good bit of the Shifting City in it too, but I haven't read it yet, so I can only recommend it as such.

Now go forth and find enlightenment!

[ape-apocalypse]

Road To The Kingdom - My Planet Of The Apes Retrospective

With the hype for Kingdom Of The Planet Of The Apes on the rise, I decided to do a bit of a deep dive into the trilogy of reboot movies starring the incredible Andy Serkis and the various tie-in titles.

Why ramble on about a series that most people seem to overlook? Well, I think back to an interaction I had here on Tumblr in 2017, just one week before War For The Planet Of The Apes came out. While scrolling through the POTA tags, I found a post that wondered if anyone was actually excited for the new film or if the studio hadn't gotten the message and was making it for an audience that didn't exist. I responded that I was genuinely excited for the new film, that I loved the motion capture apes and the action scenes and the surprisingly engaging story, and would be seeing it opening weekend. The other person seemed surprised by my honest answer and apologized for their snarkiness (a truly shocking turn of events in the history of the Internet!).

I explained that I'd gone into these films thinking of them like Jurassic World series; I wasn't there for a great story and deep writing, I just wanted to see dinosaurs destroy things. So when I went into the POTA films, just expecting to see fun action movies with monkey chaos and apocalyptic results, I was surprised that I was swept up in the characters and their stories. I loved seeing the life of Caesar from tiny carefree baby to resilient revolutionary to fearsome leader, and the lives of all the humans and apes around him. The other poster said they hadn't actually seen the movies, just expected them to be shallow cash-grabs on reboot nostalgia, but they might have to reconsider giving them a shot after my enthusiastic response.

So if I can sway the minds of anyone who has written off these films, more movie tickets sold might mean more films and other media told in this ape apocalypse world!

And even if you already know and love the films, I also want to give some love to tie-in materials. Books, comics, YouTube shorts, video games; POTA has a surprisingly large catalog of bonus material for a series not considered mainstream like Marvel or Lord Of The Rings or Star Trek. I don't see them get many mentions in the fandom so hope a little spotlight on them can help them shine. They have delicious tidbits of world-building and character backstory, filling in gaps between the movies. I already have my fingers crossed there will be some tie-in material covering some of the huge time jump between War and Kingdom. With three hundred years passing between them, there is so much to learn about the ever growing and changing ape societies. I'm eager for any scrap of info they'll share!

But really, even if nothing I write changes anyone's mind about this franchise, it's still fun to gush about one of my favorite fictional universes.

My brief history with POTA was that I didn't know much about the original films before going into the new Andy Serkis trilogy. I'd heard enough about the original film to know the main beats of the first movie (quotes like 'damn dirty ape', the reveal of the planet being Earth with the Statue of Liberty). I saw the Tim Burton film which didn't leave any kind of impression other than the incredibly realistic costumes/make-up, so much so that I was apprehensive of the CG apes. Since getting into the new films, I've started watching the originals and may cover those just for fun.

So whether you're a long-time die hard fan or a fresh face to Caesar's legacy, I hope you'll enjoy my thoughts on the Planet of the Apes franchise!

Links to all my posts as they are released:

- Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes Film

- Prelude and Contagion Comics

- Motherboard YouTube Shorts

- Firestorm Tie-In Novel

- Fall Of Man Comics

- Dawn Tie-In Comic

- Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes Film

- Revelations Tie-In Novel

- Last Frontier Video Game

- Crisis Video Game

- When Worlds Collide Comics

- War For The Planet Of The Apes Film

- War Tie-In Comic

- Caesar's Story Novel

[yuri-is-online]

Sled Ride Together With Yuu (Jade Leech)

a/n: Yuri write something that isn't about Jade challenge (impossible). This is just some random stuff set during the Harveston event. I have half a thought written out for Idia that was supposed to go on this post but turns out the next part comes out today and I know I won't be happy to finish that until I complete the available story content. Sorry :/

notes: Jade is a red flag and Yuu is implied to be comically short, what are we? energy being answered with a shrug emoji, no one in NRC knows how to communicate and this includes Yuu.

“Well if Mount Moln is involved I might know someone who would be interested.  Not too sure if he’d be down for the sled race, though.” 

“There’s no need to be so shy prefect.”  He had interjected, fully intending to round on you and tease as soon as he was finished making his pitch to Epel.  But you, delightful, unpredictable, beautiful you had instead rolled your eyes at him once he obtained your friend’s blessing and went in on the attack.

“As cute as your self-confidence is, I wasn’t going to suggest you.”  Both he and Epel are left flustered as you sigh and turn to the most unexpected of persons.  “Idia you’re going to miss the QTE.”

“Cute.”  He pouts at your back, you’ve barely spared him a glance this trip unless prompted.  You had avoided commenting on his applepom Idia’s too but he certainly wasn’t paying extra attention to how you treated him, even after he spoke his mind about yours.  His sanity’s only current saving grace was the way your pupils had dilated the first time you had been forced to look at him; otherwise he might have been forced to assume all the careful months of dancing around your unspoken little attachment to one another was the misread of the century.

Thankfully he doesn’t have to wait much longer to find out what you are currently "arguing" about.  The entire trip is practically made worth it with the little stall Epel guides them to, filled with the bounty of the mountain he was so eager to witness.  His eyes dart over the stall, wondering if he can maybe convince Epel he should be allowed back sometime in the future when he has time to spare.  A month perhaps?

“... I have no idea what any of that meant.”  says Sebek as Jade rattles off plant names.

“Sounded like monster or mecha names to me.”  mutters Idia.  You sigh.

“He’s just using the scientific names for the plants; it's not that hard.”  He smiles as you finally move to his side, gladly adjusting to be as close to you as currently acceptable.

“Did you recognize any of them?”  Epel asks, genuinely impressed as you nod.

“I should hope so,” Jade interjects before you can respond “we certainly discuss plants enough in the Mountain Lover’s Club.”

“YOU’RE A MEMBER OF THE MOUNTAIN LOVER’S CLUB?”  Sebek asks at a completely normal volume and you roll your eyes, suddenly remembering that you’re supposed to be angry at Jade who is taking a bit too much pleasure in this revelation.

“Unfortunately.”  You mutter and Jade laughs.

“It’s just the two of us.”

“Oh so it’s Fungus when one of my friends invites me somewhere you want to go but fungi when it comes to storing the climbing gear?”  You huff and Jade blinks.  Oh.

OH.  He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.  So that’s what this was all about.

Jade turns towards you, eyes dangerously aglow as he lets out a pitiable, put upon sigh, slipping his right hand free of his glove.  “Darling,” he says with that toothy smile, in just condescending enough a tone you nearly miss the desire swimming in the subtext of how he traces your jawline with his long, cold fingers “you keep suggesting that I’m causing problems for myself on purpose.  If I’ve caused you distress, please do forgive me.”  He leans downward, gently pointedly kissing your forehead and nuzzling your hair, dropping his voice in both tone and volume to murmur in your ear.  “I assure you, I can reach our things just fine.” 

You really, really, r e a l l y want to shriek and cuss him out, but it’s all you can do to steady your breathing with how keenly aware you are of every eye in Kokko Market heavily judging you both.  Jade seems blissfully unconcerned, you know he’s not unaware, as he pulls his focus away from you and back to his purchase and Epel mercifully, though clearly judgemental, tugs you away with the rest of the group deeper into the market.

The merchant is trying hard not to laugh, though Jade quickly notes it’s not at him.

“I used to do the same thing.”  Jade’s polite smile returns, eyes darting momentarily to the small woman sitting next to the stall who appears to be competing in the reddest apple contest Epel mentioned earlier with the shade she’s turned.  “It’s just so cute to watch how far they’ll go before asking for help.”  

“It really is.”  He agrees, pulling his hand back into his glove as he prepares a few fake tears.  “Still I am worried I’ve gone a bit too far this time.”

“Aww chin up.”  the merchant finally audibly laughs.  “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make up for it.”  The red woman sighs, still embarrassed but settled enough to face him finally.

“If you’re looking for suggestions, I might have one in mind.”

~~~

You’re quite finished huffing and puffing by the time Epel allows them to take a break from sledding practice, though Jade’s presence still causes you to stiffen.  He apes embarrassment well enough, though you’d like to think you know enough about his acting that your skepticism is warranted. 

“I don’t suppose you have any comments to offer?”  he asks innocently enough.  “You seemed to be observing quite diligently.”  You snort, he’s practically screaming praise me.

“Not anything substantial.”  you dodge, still too flustered from earlier to even think about throwing Idia or anyone else under the bus again.  “I’m afraid plush sledding is beyond me.”  

“How disappointing, you seemed so enthralled with the animals earlier.”  You sigh and brace yourself, gearing up for another… conversation making the mistake of closing your eyes to center yourself.  “You know I was wondering something.  Earlier when Epel was talking about stuffed animals, he never bothered to ask about you.”  That was not where you were expecting the conversation to go, and when you look up at him he does seem interested to a degree.

“Stuffed animals are popular in my world.”  it sounds lame to say.  Sort of like confirming your world’s humans also breathe air.  You’re so embarrassed you find your gaze naturally drawn to your shoes as you kick lamely at the snow.  “Um.  I had a teddy bear when I was a kid I really liked.  That’s a sort of stuffed bear but it doesn’t look anything like Idia’s-”  Something soft hits the side of your face and you turn to look up at Jade in surprise.  You come face to face with a plush reindeer, similar to the one Jade’s been practicing with for the past few hours being pushed forward to boop your nose.  You sneeze as he laughs, tugging you forward into his arms when you attempt to take the plush; that familiar heat of embarrassment floods back into your chest as you try to resist the urge to squeeze it to death.

“How unfortunate.”  he sighs, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips similar to the way he looks when inspecting a plant he really likes, only this time he’s inspecting you.  “Here I was thinking I finally had a chance at making some progress, but you’re still talking about other men.”  He bends down to your level again, pressing his forehead to yours with a content sigh.  “You will be rooting for me I trust?”

“A bit greedy to want me all to yourself, don’t you think?”  There’s not even a hint of malice in your voice, you can’t bring yourself to pretend to be mad anymore as you try to focus on the gift and not your rapidly beating heart.

“Oya, are you saying I don’t already?”  and technically, no he does not.  He hasn’t asked, but that’s something you are content to keep fishing for later, for now you just blow a raspberry that he kisses into as you sigh in content.

*I left the merchant gender neutral since they aren't mentioned in game to my knowledge. I was picturing a cottage core lesbian couple though.

**I'd like to think originally no one joins the mountain lovers club because they're afraid of Jade and then after this Yuu joined everyone stayed extra far away because they didn't know what was going on, but they didn't want to be in the middle of it. Hence Sebek screaming and Epel judging.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #672

Top Ten MCU TV Shows 2024

Once more, with feeling, we return to the MCU. Last week I ranked my favourite MCU movies – the third time I’d done that in the nearly thirteen years I’ve been writing this dumb blog. Time passes, tastes change, and Marvel keeps making more movies. But one thing I’ve never done before is rank their TV shows.

There are two very good reasons for that. One is the simple fact that Marvel Studios haven’t really been in the TV-making business all that long; y’see, I’m not counting MCU-adjacent series such as Agents of SHIELD, Daredevil, or Jessica Jones; and as good as X-Men ’97 is, I’m also not counting the many animated series based on Marvel comics. No, I’m very specifically referring to the Marvel Studios/Marvel Television productions that are explicitly set in the MCU; so, basically, the ones they’ve made for Disney+. As a result, I can only go back as far as 2021’s WandaVision; and in all that time, they’ve only recently slipped past ten total productions (eleven series and two one-off TV specials). So I couldn’t really have done this list very much earlier regardless.

And the second reason is that I never thought of doing it till now.

So what we have here is something very simple: a top ten ranking of my favourite MCU TV projects. I say “projects” there, and “shows” earlier on, because I’ve decided to include their two TV specials into the mix here. The line between “short film broadcast on TV” and “one-off TV programme” is a very blurry one, but I do think both the Guardians Holiday Special and Werewolf By Night fall into the latter category, and therefore I think I should include them in a ranking of TV shows, rather than shoe-horning them into a movies ranking. But that’s all there is to say, really; this is a top ten of my favourite MCU TV.

Do not adjust your set.

WandaVision (2021): MCU’s TV adventure really exploded out the gate with this stunning, genre-bending, convention-defying mystery. Utilising TV tropes and formats perfectly, it gave us the tragic downfall of Wanda, allowing a slow-burn and rather uncanny conundrum to unfold week-by-week, a fantastic use of episodic TV. Mysteries, guest stars, new characters, big Avengers; it had it all, and some great theme tuns. And it set up…

Agatha All Along (2024): maybe it’s not quite this good, but my mind’s full of it right now. The best MCU show to give us an unfurling mystery since its predecessor, once again we have a drip-feed of revelations that often lead to more questions; once again we have a cool crew of characters to fall in love with. Some terrific acting, some great songs, some real emotional heft, and some overdue progressive representation. Glory at the end.

The Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special (2022): at once light, breezy, and throwaway, and yet also incredibly emotional and potentially essential if you want to know these characters. Something of a hangout mini-movie, it’s a knockabout yuletide lark, but also manages to bring a tear to the eye with honest characterisation and earnest, old-fashioned love. Also has not one but two genuinely very good songs.

Ms. Marvel (2022): debuting a character so perfectly formed and perfectly cast, this is Iman Villani’s show and she knows it. Kamala Khan is a joy from start to finish, and her down-to-earth world with its down-to-earth characters is a refreshing change from the MCU’s gods and billionaires. Like Black Panther before it, simply telling these stories through the lens of another culture instantly makes them feel fresh and exciting. I hope we see more Kamala and her family very, very soon.

Hawkeye (2021): essentially a PG-13 Shane Black movie turned into a TV series, this is in many ways the perfect superhero Christmas film. But, er, a TV series. World-weary Jeremy Renner – finding new shades of Clint even now – contrasts beautifully with firecracker Hailee Steinfeld, with lots of great banter and warm feelings. But it doesn’t skimp on action, with some fantastic fights and one outrageous single-shot set-piece involving a car and a ton of trick arrows. More please.

Loki (2021-23): I think you could argue that the only MCU shows thus far that essential to the overall narrative are maybe this and WandaVision. Here we totally unpick not just the central character – and Tom Hiddleston’s multi-faceted, many-layered performance is possibly the best in the entire franchise – but also reality itself. The design of the TVA is extraordinary, and when it goes weird – multi-Lokis, time-slipping, the works – it’s a wibbly-wobbly joy. And it has arguably the best single episode – certainly the best finale – of any MCU show.

She-Hulk: Attorney at Law (2022): Marvel is often funny, but Marvel doesn’t often do outright comedy; this, then, is a rare gem. A snappy, progressive sitcom in superhero clothing, we have a stand-out central performance, a ton of great cameos, lots of genuinely hilarious jokes, and some utterly bananas fourth-wall-breaking meta-gaggery. It cost a fortune and was, I believe, considered a bit of a disappointment, so we’re probably not getting any more. Savour this sweet miracle for what it was, and be grateful.

Werewolf By Night (2022): unashamedly echoing a particular style in a way not really seen apart from the sitcom pastiche of WandaVision, this is a love letter to all kinds of classic horror, with lots of high contrast shadows and keylit screaming. Manages to be a creepy and grisly thrill-ride, but also give us some nice emotional pay-off with Man-Thing at the end.

Moon Knight (2022): a show by turns masterful and frustrating, we’re here seeing something that sadly happens a lot in the MCU: a failure to stick the landing. The magical shenanigans of Khonshu are one thing, but the highlight here is the multiple personalities of Marc Spector/Steven Grant, and how their perceptions of the world colour not just our perceptions of the show but also Moon Knight himself. Meanders a bit with a woolly ending, but some of its highs are stratospheric.

What If…? (2021-2024): a really bold swing for the fences, this is an exciting adventure show that showcases different characters in new and interesting ways. Whilst you could argue that, with the whole multiverse to play with it’s rarely all that inventive or strange, it’s nice to see, say, Nebula as a detective, or a more playful T’Challa. The animation is often very good, and the way the stories dovetail is interesting. Apparently this year’s third season will be the last. Let’s hope it goes out with a bang.

[2af-afterdark]

What are your opinions on Beelzebub and Amon's relationship?

Please note that, no matter how often I talk shit about Bell, I find him a deeply fascinating character and his dynamics to every single person we see him interacting with in need of serious analysis.

Short Answer: Messy

Long Answer: Holy shit. Amon, sir, please get a different obsession. It would be so much healthier for you. You and Bell will only break each other's hearts.

Spoilers ahead for the "Where is Beelzebub" event, Beelzebub (Bloodshed), and Amon's comic.

Amon's obsession (and it is an obsession) with Beelzebub seems to derive from the fact that Bell appeared at the exact right moment. Amon's family had just been killed, he was in danger, and he wailed so primally that Bell came to save him. It's at that exact moment that Bell himself revels that Amon is one of the 72 who is destined to someday serve him. That most certainly created a core memory in Amon. He lost his family, was saved, and learned that he has this massive destiny... all centered around Bell. It makes sense that he would develop a complex around Bell. And, well, devils have complexes in interesting ways. In Amon's case, he started being able to sniff out Bell like a bloodhound and collects fragments of him that linger.

However, Amon is not the only one in this dynamic. There is also Bell, who has an interesting relationship with ALL of the other devils in hell he meets. However, we are only talking and him and Amon right now, so...

Bell is like an absentee father. He doesn't spend time in his own kingdom, needing to be dragged back every now and again. However, as we can see in Amon's character comic (or, at least how I interpret the final panel), that he will come back to his kingdom if he is truly needed.

Also, sometimes he just stops by because he misses the place. His reasons for leaving aren't as simple as him hating work, but because he can't stay there for some reason. His cheerful expression as he leaves others behind seems to be a ruse, but I do genuinely think it hurts him to leave everyone behind. I also think, if he had to say goodbye for real, it would probably disturb him. He puts Amon and the others to sleep because it's easier than saying goodbye. He visits a sleeping Bael because it's easier to come and go without a word.

He's avoiding the real ramifications of his actions because, in the end, there is nothing he can truly do about it. He can't stay with them, so he makes his departures easier on himself by keeping some emotional distance.

Whether he thinks this is easier for the people he leaves behind or if he doesn't care what their side is... that I have yet to determine.

I want to show you part of Beelzebub (Bloodshed) because I think it helps explain the dynamic between the two even better. (Note: I yoinked these from a Discord server I am in so... Not mine, but I need them to show you this messy dynamic).

From Bell's part, we can certainly see his lackadaisical attitude in saying goodbye to others, but also the mature reasoning with which he justifies his actions. He's leaving because being with him isn't safe. He is making this choice to protect others, just as he protected Amon when he needed him most. Leaving is a form of love and caring in his mind.

But that isn't necessarily how others see it...

Amon, -- who is quite literally obsessed with Bell and will wait for him forever, who probably thinks the most like Bell (hence why he can easily locate Bell if needed), and who knows exactly why Bell cannot stay in Avisos -- cannot be the one waiting around because it hurts. Being left behind, especially by the person you most revere, has to be deeply painful. However, there is nothing he can do about it other than not be the one getting hurt. In a way, I think it may also be him reading what Bell needs. Bell leaving is one thing, but it's another if Bell is saying goodbye to the people he loves and, instead of standing in place and crying, he sees them taking off. Amon is absolving Bell of some guilt when he walks away because the departure is mutual rather than abandonment. I think, in Amon's obsession, he has developed a sort of emotional intelligence in regards to Bell in specific.

So, long story short, their relationship is messy. It is incredibly painful and unhealthy for everyone, but not because of anything they can control. It's the fault of a war in which even their ties to one another are victims. They are doing what they can with it, but that doesn't mean they are managing it well. Amon developed a complex around the person who was there when he needed someone most and Bell is unable to be present for the people who love him most.

ISN'T THIS GAME SO HORNY AND FUN!!??!??!?!!?

[soleminisanction]

What comic issue did the whole kon v steph showdown happen? In which he basically called her a poser? I’m wondering what the rest of the young justice teams reaction to her was. I think greta tried to kill her at one point? I don’t think she’s very well liked among that team, but it also makes me wonder if she’s very well liked in the wider hero community at all besides her small group of vigilantes she’s enmeshed herself with through getting involved w Tim and to a lesser extent Batman? What are your views?

Teen Titans (2003) issue #13:

That's it in its entirety. The bit with Tim and Conner is very much the story's B-plot, the A-plot is focused on Beast Boy and the rest of the Titans back in San Fran.

As for Steph and Greta -- it is true that Greta is the one member of YJ that Steph ever truly interacted with during that time period. I actually wrote up a whole thing here about the arc of those interactions, but it was kind of off-topic with your question and also long enough that it really deserves its own post, especially because lining it all up together without the multi-year gap between plot points gave me a revelation about how the story actually went.

I'm going to try to get that post up in the next day or so to prove my point but the summation here is: the first time they met, Greta explicitly didn't try to kill Steph -- but afterwards, Steph framed it as "she tried to kill me in a jealous rage" and people took Steph's side because part of Greta's story was that her "good people bad powers" thing made her kind of sus and that's what eventually drove her to join Darksied.

So while Steph did get mentioned in YJ, including getting brought in to help as part of the invasion of Zandia in issues 50-52, her only significant contribution there was a very brief stand-off with Greta and getting stuck in a bubble with a several other 90's characters who I'm pretty sure don't exist anymore.

The only other person I recognize here is Lagoon Boy. The pink filter doesn't help.

Other than that, the only interaction Steph's had with any member of Tim's friend group is the one issue of Teen Titans (2003), #66, where they're doing this membership drive thing and Steph (recently back from faking her death) tags along so they can pretend that maaaaybe she's going to join the team, but actually she's just there to have a very brief interaction with Traci 13 and Bombshell.

And an even briefer, awkward stare-down with Cassie that's only there because she and Tim's budding romance had been awkwardly cut short just so he could back to Steph the very instant she got back from faking her death no matter how little sense that made.

And then Steph wasn't even interested in joining the team anyway she was just there for quote, "moral support" as Tim told Cassie he needed to take a break for a while and focus on the pre-Final Crisis chaos going down in Gotham.

Stephanie has never spoken to Bart, Anita, Slobo, or Ray so far as I know. She's never even met Cissie because the Arrowette who went to Zandia turned out to be Bonnie in disguise.

Pre-Flashpoint, the only other people she'd met outside of Gotham are Supergirl (whom she met in World's Finest (2009)) and Squire, who's still technically a Bat even if she lives in England. Stargirl and Miss Martian show up alongside Bombshell and Supergirl towards the end of Steph's solo series but they come out of nowhere only because BQM had wanted to make them part of Steph's entourage at some point but didn't get the chance, so I don't really count them. Nor do I count her showing up in a group shot at the end of the Gail Simone Wonder Woman, since that was just a line-up of cameos from every female hero she could get at the time.

So with all that as the preamble, to answer your second question: no, I don't think Steph is very well-liked by the wider superhero community. I also don't think she's disliked. I think the vast majority of heroes and villains have no idea who she is.

If they know her at all, it's probably as, "That girl in the purple that Cass is always hanging out with" or "Robin's ex-girlfriend who faked her death that one time" or maybe even as, "There was a girl Robin at some point right? I feel like I heard that somewhere," particularly since there was a big media shake-up after War Games. Heck, they might even know her as, "Cluemaster's daughter; she runs with the Bats, yeah? Heh, sucks to be Arthur" since he's actually gotten around more than her just by virtue of being on the Suicide Squad.

But as Spoiler, as Batgirl, as a hero? Basically unknown outside of Gotham. She's always been too much of a supporting character to develop those kinds of connections.

[ultimateinferno]

TF2 updated so I'm taking this post out of drafts:

The TF2 Mercs are a part of the internet equivalent of the commedia dell'arte stock characters. Being automatically included in Source derivative software such as SFM and GMod, they're very easily available as premade rigs for amateur animators to use in their works. The simple, cartoony, and discernible designs make them very easy to read at any angle, which although originally used to be easily read in a competitive gaming environment, translates well to comedy skits. Unlike similar games such as Overwatch, where they're practically over-designed in a very definite artstyle, TF2 characters are lacking in accessories as a default. Generally wearing simple single color jackets, t-shirts and pants. In fact, the varied nature of TF2's cosmetic system makes them perfect as dress-up dolls, making it very easy to reuse the same base model and differentiate between them.

That brings me to their characterization. Even though most if not all have pretty well defined backstories and narratives, outlined in the supplementary media of comics and Meet the Videos, their baseline personalities can be easily transplanted into various skits and narratives with minimal introduction. Scout is a cocky jackass. Soldier is a dimwitted, overly patriotic American. Heavy is simultaneously soft-spoken and boisterous Russian who revels in violence. These simple yet understood personalities mean you can bypass proper character introductions by identifying who's in what role from the start, similar to the archetypes from the aforementioned commedia dell'arte.

You don't even have to be a fan of tf2 to grasp these roles. The ubiquity of SFM as free 3d animation software is a self supporting introduction. If you are unfamiliar with tf2's narrative, simply consuming a handful of these animations can get you up to speed.

Simultaneously, TF2's narrative is just as batshit as the fan animations that are inspired by it. You could certainly use other valve properties for similar reasons regarding animation accessibility, but TF2 embracing comedy from the start and the simple insanity of its characters means you can transport them to a wider array off stories while asking for a much smaller suspension of disbelief.

A Half Life animation is far more likely to be about Half Life than any given TF2 animation is about TF2. Many of them are, but way more are simply not.

TF2 as a property has a lot of staying power. 16 years now and even with minimal support from valve, it still soldiers on (pun intended) as a significant part of internet meme culture. I find it's notoriety akin to Hatsune Miku, where they're given a second life outside of the purpose of their original creation. They're less FPS characters, and more little dolls novice animators smack together for the entertainment of others.

And at the end of the day that's almost all it really takes. A significant slice of media engagement and fan works for the internet at large could not care less about Canon or the main narrative, even if its well regarded, because the biggest draw for many is simply taking strong personalities and putting them in funny situations. It's why incorrect quotes are absolutely everywhere despite the fact that a good 80% of them do not fit the original characters one bit. Meanwhile, TF2 as a property actively encourages it.

The following are all fan animations that have jack shit to do with each other or the original canon--be it in game, the original animations, or expanded comics--and yet they're still ultimately cohesive as these little shorts that play with the cast as archetypes, with their own recognizable appearances and roles. (Tucked behind Keep Reading to save space)