#Utilisation correcte

[nerdie-faerie]

If the Doctor isn't a timelord then that means they potentially have different reactions to substances than they previously thought, ergo I just know that Thirteen, in all of her feral glory, runs around testing their reactions to things upon learning about their Timeless Child origins without her companions finding out

[lilias42]

La chassée devenue chasseuse

J'enchaine vraiment en ce moment IRL alors, j'avais envie de dessiner un peu pour me vider la tête donc, voici une nouvelle version de Metaheta de dos avec plein de détour (juste un peu déçu qu'on ne voie pas les motifs autour de son oeil central dans son dos [mais ils se voient quand on grossit le dessin !]).

C'est une des Braves que j'aime le plus à cause de son histoire vis à vis des agarthans, son design qui est dur mais très satisfaisant une fois passé au noir, son caractère et sa force... même si j'en ai fait peut-être un peu trop pour cette dernière vu que... bah je sais même pas comment Némésis et Thalès ont pu réussir à la vaincre en fait 😅

Vu que la dame a 1 200 ans de sorcellerie à son actif, une force colossale, la capacité à moduler son corps comme elle le veut - que ce soit pour grandir, le tordre dans tous les sens ou changer d'apparence - et le contrôle comme elle le souhaite, voie sous tous les angles possibles grâce à ses yeux, se régénère très vite, lit dans les pensées des gens (vu qu'elle a développé ses sens et son corps, ça me semble dans la continuité qu'elle développe assez sa sorcellerie pour pouvoir voir et entendre les pensées des autres... et ce serait tout à fait son genre de lire de le faire pour repérer encore plus vite les agarthans)... ouais, arriver à la faire tomber est pratiquement impossible à ce stade, encore plus pour des agarthans vu que de base, si elle est aussi surentrainée, c'est justement pour les vaincre alors, elle connait tout leurs trucs et même armé de l'épée du Créateur, Némésis risque de ne pas faire long feu face à elle étant donné qu'il n'a ni son endurance, ni sa capacité de régénération ni d'adaptation. Encore, elle pourrait galérer contre des nabatéens qui pourrait la battre avec pas mal d'effort (même si je ne voie pas pourquoi elle s'en prendrait à eux, elle en a juste rien à cirer de ce qui se passe en-dehors de sa montagne et si on ne la menace pas), mais des agarthans... voilà quoi, elle les repoussait avant leur chute alors, avec les ressources bien diminuées, même pas la peine d'y penser. C'est elle qui va les éliminer, y a pas de débat là-dessus.

De base, je me disais qu'il l'épuisait en la forçant à combattre pendant des jours sans qu'elle puisse manger, boire ou dormir mais, il leur faudrait une véritable armée pour l'assaillir continuellement et à ce stade, je voie mal les agarthans avoir assez de ressources pour créer suffisamment d'automate ou recruter assez de gens pour ça... j'ai le même problème avec les autres sorciers vraiment anciens que son Lamine (avec son poison mortel en quelques secondes flottant dans l'air et sa capacité de régénération vraiment infinie vu qu'elle peut survivre à une décapitation et brûle moins vite qu'elle ne guérit), Kelon (idem, se régénère très vite, avec la difficulté en plus qu'il faut pouvoir l'attraper vu qu'il voie assez haut dans le ciel tout en étant ultra mobile avec ses ailes, avec ses éclairs qui peuvent toucher à assez longue distance) ou Pyrkaïa dans une moindre mesure vu qu'elle est une pointe plus jeune (bonne capacité de régénération et faut pouvoir attraper une véritable torche humaine) mais bref, à voir.

En plus, après tout ce qu'elle s'est pris dans les dents, les agarthans qui ont littéralement chassé son peuple pour s'amuser, voler les peaux des siens afin de s'infiltrer chez eux et faire encore plus de dégâts, tout ce qu'elle a enduré pour protéger sa cité, tout ce qu'elle a sacrifié pour son peuple, tout le travail pendant des siècles pour calmer sa paranoïa et qu'elle s'autorise un peu plus à vivre pour elle aussi et pas que comme une gardienne de sa cité... ouais, j'ai pas très envie de l'imaginer en train de perdre contre son pire ennemi, encore plus quelqu'un d'aussi arrogant et pourri que Thalès qui se prend pour un dieu, encore plus contre quelqu'un qu'il voyait comme une proie auparavant. Faudra bien un jour quand je me déciderais à faire son billet à elle mais bon, au rythme où je vais...

Alors, juste, vas-y reine, tu peux enfin en finir avec cette ordure qui a fait de la vie de ta cité un enfer, fait toi plaisir !

[coweye]

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice. 

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was. 

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot. 

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired. 

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face. 

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her. 

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised. 

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features. 

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully. 

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling. 

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red. 

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man. 

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry. 

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.  

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits. 

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?” 

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed. 

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping. 

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline. 

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers. 

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted. 

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet. 

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists. 

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.” 

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp. 

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?” 

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form. 

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue. 

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now.  “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-” 

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily. 

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other. 

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion.  “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that. 

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground. 

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind. 

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him. 

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy. 

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you. 

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead. 

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do. 

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip. 

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura. 

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan. 

He’s just Logan. 

You bury yourself deeper in his neck. 

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut. 

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs. 

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?” 

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you. 

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back. 

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not. 

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue. 

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter.  He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips. 

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his. 

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.  

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist. 

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart. 

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you. 

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close. 

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve. 

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him. 

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him. 

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional. 

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he. 

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth. 

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you. 

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-” 

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you. 

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch. 

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth. 

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast. 

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole. 

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin. 

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it. 

 He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. 

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach. 

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin. 

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard. 

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy. 

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you. 

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers. 

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go. 

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does. 

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing. 

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably. 

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down. 

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh. 

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection. 

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again. 

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind. 

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence. 

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched. 

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“AGH!”  Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you. 

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend. 

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous.  Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands. 

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you.  Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?” 

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously. 

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest. 

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different. 

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours. 

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back. 

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

[snaoisean]

je déteste l'intellij. j'ai dû installer l'intellij comme. 5 fois cette semaine ouuuugj

[louderfade]

[daegu-based-terrorist]

I think a lot of people misunderstand why we talk about both racism and anti communism when discussing anti north korean sentiment. I do understand why people don’t think the racism aspect is all that important to emphasise, after all Samsung Republic is probably the north’s greatest detractor and the most vile anti North Korean scumbags can all be found on this side of the DMZ.

However I think it’s also a failing to not recognise that alot of the anti North Korean sentiment that comes from outside of Korea utilises anti Korean racism.

(South) Koreans are a great example of the “model minority” * huges swaths of our popular culture has been exported and deliberately changed for the consumption of the white westerner. Koreans in the American diaspora have often taken to becoming members of the petty bourgeois, and for some reason, doing this. South Korea is a hyper capitalist military state and uses Korean culture as a product to be sold to casual enjoyers and fetishists a like. New developments in popular tourist cities may as well cater towards the white expat/tourist’s gaze. Korean Americans have delighted in and actively encouraged the proximity to whiteness they gain by being neither black, native american or one of the “bad asians” (south, west ect.)

The dprk, and by extension, it’s people, destroy the shaky foundations all of these myths are based on. So despite being the same ethnicity, North Koreans aren’t given the privilege of proximity to whiteness, or treated as if they are almost honorary Europeans.

The Korean of the north is still a uncivilised dog eating animal who doesn’t know what is good for them and should either be saved by the benevolent American army or put out of their misery if the first option fails to materialise.

If we were to overthrow the ROK government today and reunite with the DPRK under the current North Korean government, South Koreans would be treated with as much vitriol as those of us from and/or in the north.

Because as affective as anti communist propaganda is, the fact that white people already viewed Koreans as docile, unintelligent people, really helped in promoting the idea that North Koreans are unable to think for themselves or have any sort of agency/autonomy.

Idk. I’ve been awake for two days straight and feel like I’ve written this weirdly so please as for any clarification. I’m exhausted lol

* (now please correct anything that I say wrong here, I’m not American so I’ve only understood this threw literature and the stories and anecdotes of other Korean comrades)

[redeyerhaenyra]

Divine Hammer

Summary: You bring up something new to Simon. He's more enthusiastic than you expected.

Warnings: What else but smut, HEAVY UK slang usage (me and si come from the same area of England our slang is v similar) Simon slaps reader once, fem reader, oral(f), fingering in BOTH holes, pussy juice as lube, anal duh, simons fat cock, sprinkling of a size kink, mean Simon, kitchen sex mmm, no beta we die like soap (sorry), lmk if I missed anything!

Notes: Listen the taboo of anal just gets me going alright , also this has been in my drafts since JAN 9TH help

Wc: 2.5k

Simon's stare was unnerving. Well, it was always unnerving, to a degree. But he found ways to utilise it. Deadpan humour, emphasising points of conversation, scaring away would-be hookups from you in the pub. But here, it was unnerving in a whole other way.

It felt… intrusive.

Simon stared at you like he could see through your clothes, your body, into your mind to expose your deepest darkest fantasies. You squirmed under his penetrating gaze, tugging at the hem of your jumper.

After a little while of silence, you shook your head, scoffing at yourself;

“-No, nevermind um.. I'm.. s-sorry that was weird-” “Didn’ say tha’ ”

You gulped, gaze nervously fixed to the floor. Simon was still. Staring. At you. Never before had you felt so exposed, too embarrassed and, if you were honest, a little scared to look at your boyfriend face-on.

“Was just wonderin’ since when my bird was such a slag.”

His baritone words rolled down your spine, sending sparks of a deep, taboo satisfaction through you. You whimpered, and hid your face in your hands.

“Don’ act like a prude love, we both heard what you wanted just now.” “I shouldn't have said anythinnnggg-”

Conceptually, anal had… a certain taboo charm to it. From your perspective at least. Sure, it wasn't technically the “right” hole… it wouldn't feel the same, but the idea had always fascinated you.. intruded your shadowed thoughts at night with your fingers rubbing your clit and edging nervously to an opening further on than your cunt.

So, gently, you'd broached the topic one time you were both in the kitchen together- thinking, in hindsight foolishly, that it'd be something he'd instantly dismiss, or at least… talk about later. In the bedroom. Not in the middle of the kitchen… but now here you stood, in the hole you'd dug for yourself;

“On the contrary, I'm relieved you've finally admitted it to yourself.” His footsteps were heavy against the floorboards as he approached you. Confused, you peeked out of the gaps between your fingers to look at him;

“W-what?” “Don't be fuckin’ coy w'me love.” Simon towered over you, cadging you next to the kitchen side.

“Always suspected there was some depraved shit up here, yeah?” He poked your temple with his index finger, “Turns out my intuitions were correct then?”

“T-thats not-” “Oh yes it is sweet’art.” Simon's eyes grew more intense by the second, even more than before- you struggled to even picture them in your mind for fear of his retribution.

“Ay- fuckin’ look at me when I'm talking to ya.”

He could have been a lot harsher with the small smack he delivered to your cheek, but that knowledge did nothing to dull the pain, and your eyes watered a little at the sensation. He grabbed your cheeks between his fingers, squishing them till you pouted and shaking your head lightly, as if to keep hold of your attention.

As if you could look anywhere else…

Forced to return his ferocious gaze, you crumbled, knees bucking like a fawn under you- Simon grabbed you and roughly hauled you back up, manhandling you to bend over the kitchen counter. You allowed him to, biting your lip in an attempt to muffle your unintentional sounds of appreciation.

It earned you a harsh smack to your rear, and Simon's big paw of a hand tugging your hair. He leaned over you, “ ‘M not ‘avin any of tha’ yeah? You're not gonna be hidin’ how much of a slut you are from me anymore sweet'art.”

The juxtaposition of his words and the way he sweetly kissed your temple after he said them was almost comical. The grip on your hair disappeared, replaced with firm and consistent pulling at your clothes until you shuffled out of them- Simon wasted no time running his warm hands up and down your body, rumbling out various admirations of your physical form.

He slunk down your body, nipping and pressing hot, open mouthed kisses down your back, and then to each of your cheeks, all the way down to your pussy. Earlier on, when you'd ridden yourself of your panties, Simon had laughed at how wet they were. “Already?” He'd asked, “Y'that turned on already? Whore. Like a bitch in heat f'me, ey?”

He had no further comments to mock you with, not now at least. He was busy approving of the view of your wet cunt in front of him- out of the corner of your eye you spied him nodding to himself as if he were appraising fine art.

You huffed, a little impatient, petulant you wiggled your bum at him- only all you got from him was another spank.

“Be patient.” He said curtly.

You whined, but otherwise did as you were told, meekly resigned to your fate as Simon's personal eye candy.

“Why ya’ into it then?” You made a noise of confusion, Simon huffed.

“This.”

One of hands had moved to idly grope and squish your bottom while he'd been down there, and now his thumb creeped ever so slowly over to press on your rim. You keened- suddenly understanding what he meant.

“Well?” His thumb pressed in deeper, you gasped- “I-i don't know!” “Hmmm…”

You could tell from his tone he didn't quite believe you. He kissed your cheek again.

“I'm sure I'll find out.”

With that said, his thumb remained almost gently rubbing at your hole, his free hand moving to pull his balaclava up over his nose- wasting no time in burying himself in your cunt. He sighed contentedly at the taste, smell, feel of you, lazily lapping at your cunny with his broad tongue. His thumb still rubbing you in slow circles, almost.. in a comforting manner.

There was no one more intimidating than Simon- at least out of all the people you've ever met, and yet here he was, eating your pussy like it was a home cooked, three-course meal. You looked over your shoulder, and bit your lip; The visual of big bad Simon Riley on his knees for you, make you shiver and clench.

Simon seemed to be secretly a telepath however, as the way he suddenly roughly pinched your clit between his index finger and thumb- tugging on it cruelly, came off as a punishment. You whined loudly, panting into the counter, drooling a little. Vaguely, you could hear Simon humming thoughtfully to himself. He released his hold on your poor clit, though quickly replaced it by rubbing small, soothing circles on it instead.

It quite quickly becomes a lot more intense, Simon grunting in approval as he plunges his thick tongue into your cunt. Your breathing is staggered, coming out in short, little huffs- you reach behind you to tug at Simon's head, shoving him closer. Again, he groans in appreciation, eagerly nuzzling between your thighs closer, the rhythm of his tongue and fingers rubbing at your clit increased a hundredfold;

Like lighting, your orgasm crashed through you, the noises that left your pussy- wet, squelching, the drip of your juices against the floor, should surely have had you feeling at least some shame, but no. You were too twitchy, too fucked stupid on Simon's tongue to care.

With much reluctantance, Simon hauled himself off of your puffy pussy. He'd gladly stay nestled between your kegs for the rest of him life, at least from further away, he could admire his work.

At this point, you thought perhaps he'd finally get to the meat of what you'd suggested.. Simon wasn't finished yet though- two of his deliciously thick fingers were swiftly shoved into your sopping pussy.

You cried out at the sudden penetration, shivering and trembling.

“What? ..silly cow.” Simon told you gruffly, somewhat annoyed that you'd dare disturb his probing at your cunt with your exclamation of surprise. You whined at his degradation, but were still coherent enough to recognise the underlying affection in his tone. Huffing, you leaned forward to lay your torso fully on the cold, sideboard. The cool temperature of the marble was sharp and sudden, but soon soft and gentle to your hot body, palliative to your hard, puffed up nipples.

He lazily pumped his fingers inside you for a few moments, before curling his fingers forward, dragging against that spongey spot deep within you, and eased his fingers out of you.

You were left huffing and panting like an animal into the counter- Simon had cupped his two fingers- the ones that was just inside of you- just under your clit.. then abruptly he slid them upwards, slowly, pressing down hard.

You squeaked, struggling not to quiver too hard. Simon's fingers kept creeping up and up and up, gliding firmly over your cunny, finally halting at your rim. The hot, wet sensation of Simon rubbing your own slick into your hole as lube had you trembling.

“How's tha?” You heard Simon mumble from behind you, his accent had gotten a little thicker. It always got thicker when he was “in the zone”.

“Oh.. uh..” Seemingly irked by your lack of response, your boyfriend slapped your clit harshly with the back of his hand.

“G-good!! It's good! Good!!” You choked, and whined again when you heard Simon chuckle lowly at you. He tapped his fingers twice on your hole- you nodded shyly at him;

Simon hummed, cautiously easing one of his broad fingers covered in your slick into your ass. The noise of utter debauched pleasure you let escape your throat was nothing compared to Simon's groan-

“Oh fuck that's tight..”

God it was, you felt how hard your greedy hole swallowed up his thick finger. You huffed and puffed- vainly attempting to breath consitently, but your body was too sensitive, muscles pulled too rigid inside you to keep your thoughts on one thing alone.

Simon was your rock, somewhere in the thousands of feelings inside you, was a certainty that he was holding back. Taking it slow, just for you.

You felt the hazey cloud of sex overwhelm you, rendering you more or less unable to speak, only babble incoherently into the counter, your pretty eyes filled with tears as Simon took his sweet, sweet time opening you up.

By comparison to how rough the pads of his digits were, they were remarkably soft with you, even as Simon squeezed one more of his fingers in you. You coughed and hiccups at the fullness of it.

“Tha's it.. good girl.. cmon.. open up luv.. there we go..”

You head him whisper, and you moaned impatiently. You wanted to politely express your readiness for his dick, but all the you were able to whine out was “C-cock-!”

Simon laughed, which was always a nice, comforting rumble. “I know sweet'art, gotta get you a little looser f'me first yeah?”

Even as you keened and begged, Simon would not budge. Occasionally, if he was feeling particularly mean in that moment, he'd flick your poor clit harshly, you'd squeal and twitch. This continued for a while, and by the time he deemed you “ready” you might have passed out, the electric fizzles of pleasure that sizzled between your legs kept you awake.

Simon could tell you were tired, he was gentle with the way he slipped his hand under you tummy to push your bum in the air, and tender with how he cradled your hip. Your clit was kindly soothed with slow, small circles rubbed in by his middle finger.

You sobbed into the side- “cock…” you babbled, sniffing and feeling sorry for yourself. You felt a kiss to the base of your neck;

“Mmmm.. I know baby, I know, m' so mean aren't I?”

Vaguely, you heard yourself murmuring in agreement. The metallic sound of Simon's belt loosening and then his zipper coming down had warm excitement flutter over your body.

You felt the heat of his dick before it even touched you, whimpering when it finally did. Simon rubbed his thick cock up and down the apex of your thighs, right up to hole and then back down to your clit. When you would whine at him, he'd hum right back.

God, he was so much bigger than you. He leant over you and covered your entire body with his bulk. You felt him throb at your rim. A kiss was levied at your neck- “Y’ready?” He asked, voice low, and you babbled back something that sounded like impatience. Simon chuckled and kissed your neck again, bracing one strong arm against the counter next to you.

All of a sudden he was inside you, not all the way but he was inside you and that's all you could think about. You gasped, inadvertently holding your breath and then once more remembering to breathe. Simon had stayed silent throughout this.. you reached backwards for him with one hand;

“Si?” “Y-yeah, yeah m’here, g’ve us a minute love-”

His voice came out ragged and shaky, and from the sounds of it he was doing the same forgetting-to-breath thing you were.

You both needed occasionally little breaks from him sliding his cock inside you this time, either of you would cum too quickly. But soon, all of him was pressed snugly inside you. You drooled on the counter and Simon's head had dropped to rest on your back, taking slow, steady breaths, grounding himself.

The both of you stayed like this for a while. It was almost peaceful. Soft. Till Simon decided he was fine to move and dragged his dick alllllllll the way back out and then in again in one thrust. It left you choked for breath, Simon too, he was more vocal this time than any other time you'd fucked.

Neither of you lasted long, specially not after your boyfriend had clasped his big paw of a hand under your leg, and lifted it up onto the counter next to you, an entirely new and more intimate angle. You were cumming before you even realised Simon had crept his hand down to pinch your clit. He was so mean about it too- that same hand then came up to shove to of his fingers into your mouth, creating a spit-slicked mess. And when he came it was an event:

He threw his head back and moaned more desperately than you'd ever heard from him before. The rhythmic squelch that narrated your encounter kept going even after he'd cum, if anything it was louder now. His and your cum dripping down out of you and puddling on the floor beneath you. Still, meekly, Simon kept thrusting into you, as if the orgasm was too good to end. Though finally it did, Simon's weight all but collapsing ontop of you.

You stayed like that for a while, still connected. Basking in your respective afterglows. Simon kissed your neck again and you croaked out a satisfied noise;

“Fun..” The man behind you laughed, “Yeah fun was it? Just fun eh? Just fun~?” Cruelly he reached under you to tickle your sides- you squealed; “More than f-fun!!” and that seemed to sate him, releasing you.

“Yeah, s’what I thought…..” He drummed his fingers on the counter..

“Bath?” “bath….”

[justicewasserved]

so I see a lot of people going "hahaha wild that Jon thinks everything (such as the apocalypse) is his fault when it REALLY isn't" and they would be correct but I keep thinking about why it is that he's like that. I think a lot of people simply put it down to "that's just how he is as a person" when I really think it's more of a combination between personality, how he was brought up (not that well) and the web.

in mag 81 he's never that specific about what his grandmother was like, and is very clearly trying to make her sound better than she actually is. but to me it sounds like she instilled a feeling that any and all problems that occurred throughout his childhood was his fault, or made worse by him. I'm thinking something like "I'm feeling so bad right now because I have to pick you up from school every day." and if she did do this, clearly it worked because he is, in his statement as an adult, retroactively pinning the blame for all his childhood problems on himself for being a "deeply annoying child". I really think that it's not normal to think you are to blame for someone else bullying you and that it was probably caused by his grandmother making him think he caused everyone's problems.

the mr spider event shocked him in a lot of ways but one of the main things that shook him was that he felt like he could've prevented what happened and he could've saved the guy's life. obviously this is ridiculous - it's clear to us that the web pulled him down the exact path which would lead someone else to interrupt his reading and get captured themselves. however Jon does not know this and clearly thinks he should've done better. I think that this, along with his upbringing, started the distinct way of thinking that he has where he decides that everything is his fault.

the web knew this would happen and then utilises it to make sure his crushing sense of responsibility causes him to get all 14 marks and then to, unwillingly, play his part in removing the fears from the universe.

[scaryinclusive]

WORDS TO USE INSTEAD OF NARCISSIST.

by @scaryinclusive.

presently, narcissist is a word used to define individuals with narcissistic personality disorder. a narcissistic individual is someone exhibiting traits or symptoms of narcissistic personality disorder. due to its widespread use as a derogatory, dehumanising and stigmatising label, despite its original purpose, the use of 'narcissist, narcissism and narcissistic' as an adjective, especially in an insulting, derogatory way, is ableist, sanist and stigmatising.

why should you consider altering your vocabulary and stop using words like 'narcissist' as an adjective — especially a derogatory one? please read this informative post. help the npd community out by opting to utilise less harmful, stigmatising language in your speech and writing! please note: the following words listed are not synonyms with or indicative of npd symptoms or traits. but for the context 'narcissist' is typically socially applied to, they are a beneficial replacement. feel free to reblog.

arrogant. an exaggerated sense of one's own worth or importance. this can come across as overbearing, or socially inappropriate.

selfish. very concentrated on one's own personal profit or pleasure, typically lacking consideration for others.

self-absorbed. preoccupied with one's own interests, feelings or situations.

boastful. excessive pride and self-satisfaction in one's own achievements, possessions or abilities.

braggart. same as above, just a synonym. relating more to bragging than boasting.

conceited. alternative for vain, excessively proud of oneself.

egotistical. excessively conceited or absorbed in oneself. a synonym for self-centred.

haughty. acting superior in an arrogant, disdainful way.

insolent. rude, arrogant, showing a lack of respect.

ostentatious. a pretentious or showy display, an attempt to impress.

overconfident. excessively confident, an excessive certainty in one's abilities.

proud. a deep pleasure or satisfaction gained from one's own achievements, qualities or possessions.

self-confident. trusting in one's abilities, qualities, and judgement.

self-important. an exaggerated sense of one's own value or importance.

superior. an overly high opinion of oneself. synonym for conceited.

vain. excessive high opinion of one's appearance, abilities or worth.

egocentric. thinking only of yourself, without regard for others' feelings or desires.

self-centred. preoccupied with oneself and one's affairs.

self-involved. preoccupied with oneself, not paying attention to anyone else.

smug. an excessive pride in oneself or one's achievements.

pompous. grand, self-important or solemn in a way that is insincere or pretentious.

self-serving. having concern for oneself and oneself only.

sycophant. someone who is too eager to praise or obey someone in order to gain an advantage.

complacent. smug or uncritical satisfaction with oneself or one's achievements.

vainglorious. overlay vain, excessively proud of oneself.

obnoxious. extremely unpleasant.

egoistic. relating to egoism, preoccupied with oneself, synonymous with self-centred.

callous. showing or having an insensitive or cruel disregard for others.

cruel. wilfully or deliberately causing pain / suffering to others, potentially with no remorse.

abusive / emotionally abusive. extremely offensive or insulting. a form of interaction wherein the abuser is psychologically controlling, manipulating or harming you.

manipulative. exercising control or influence over another individual or situation. can be intentional but equally can be subconscious.

self-righteous. a certainty, especially an unfounded one, that one is totally correct or morally superior.

unsympathetic. not expressing, showing or feeling sympathy towards others or a situation.

toxic. poisonous, very harmful or unpleasant in a way that is pervasive or insidious.

insidious. the proceeding of something in a gradual, subtle way, but with extremely harmful effects.

malignant. very dangerous or harmful.

[valar-did-me-wrong]

The Orc family hate has finally broke me guys, so here's me ranting..

Someone I read on reddit today said correctly that (paraphrased here with tons of my own opinion added) these ROP Haters™ were initially all happy & excited with the show announcement pre character introductions. It was all well & good for them till the day ROP announced Ismael as an elf & Galadriel, a woman as the lead. Then these people got furious!

But most didn't want to bring forth or face their internalised misogyny & racism fueling this sentiment, so it became their life goal to dig into the legendarium to find points & tiny side notes to use to drag the show & justify the hate they were feeling.

From actively overlooking the meaning of 'Adaptation', to painting Newline Cinema & Warner Brothers as charity organizations unlike Amazon, to making PJ's story canon OVER Tolkien's, to digging up dirt on the producers being religious hence implying (pre premiere btw) that the show is pure christian propaganda... no stones were left unturned by varying varieties of ROP Haters™ who were all united at the pale white European elves & delicate feminine background character Galadriel front. All of which the rage bait youtubers utilise against ROP to this date!

Well this succeeded in affecting public sentiment during season 1 because the show was a little Tolkienian in pacing with characters & world building, along with the humongous Rights Problem & people being generally wary of prequels.

But by mid-end of Season 1 to now; despite the review bombing & all efforts for the past 2 years, neutral people started to watch the show themselves & realised one by one that it wasn't actually a disappointment as they were promised. It grew on some people without Hate in their heart & biases filling their minds! Hence the views & the positive comments grew, infuriating the Haters™ & fueling their mindless bullying.

Yet still these people were pretty sucessfully hiding behind their canon excuse untill The Orc Baby.

The Orc Family Hate & it's unhinged justification via convoluting the basic essence of LOTR; it shattered the illusion hiding what these ROP Haters™ are at their core.. just people desperate to destroy a thing that isn't in line with Their worldview. Because in their head the story is Theirs, the only valid interpretation is what They grew up watching & hence it owes Them to be made exactly how They deem correct!

Willing to distort a dead guy's life work to absolve themselves of their unjust hate & get a free pass to feel morally superior doing so!

Unhinged comments claiming the essence of Tolkien's writings is the existence of purely black & white differentiation of good & evil in his world!! Each one of them sounding like regurgitations from some youtuber's video who watched PJ's trilogy at 1.5× solely to farm hate veiws.

Frothing at the mouth over a 5 sec clip! Demanding a world where a whole race can be hated without using critical thinking; these are the same people who used to scream before last week that the reason they can't give ROP a chance is because ` They cannot watch a show without critical thinking `

Embarrassing hills these Haters™ keep dying on tbh

Haters™ does not equate honest critiques btw.. Haters™ are the delulu, moral superiority complex driven, hate stalkers of ROP. The show has faults & you can obviously point then out without being these people :)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for entertaining a friendship with a child?

okay so this might be a weird one or even a controversial one i honestly have zero clue how other people will receive this, apologies in advance if i ramble!

to begin, i (23ftm) and this kid (15f) first met about a year ago. one of my best friends (23m) is a pretty big model and tiktoker and she was a fan of his, and she was pretty recognized online for making cool edits and stuff of him and coming to meetups etcetera, so he knew of her from there, and over time with always seeing each other at meet ups and her being in his discord server (where i mod) she kind of became pretty well known to us.

an important thing to note is that she's SUPER neurodivergent and she's had a really tough life. she lost her older brother a few years back and she's (i'm not sure of the correct way to put it, her family is originally from the netherlands and their english is kind of in the works so this is how they put it) developmentally behind a few years - her parents describe this as her being "mentally more 13 than 15" but her behaviour to me is even younger than that. she's very very innocent and trusting, very overemotional and sensitive to criticism etc, loves stuffed animals and pink and cartoons and all of that. she's told me she feels like a little kid sometimes and will talk/act like one so maybe there's an element of trauma-rooted age regression there, i'm not super sure - i'm not gonna get into detail but she's talked to me about her life a lot and she's had some pretty fucked up shit happen to her.

from the beginning she pretty much imprinted on me - she's told me before i remind her of the big brother she lost, and ever since then she's called me her "big brother" and "family" etc. at first i was more just playing along with it to make her happy but over time she really has become something like a little sister to me, i feel super protective of her. i want to become a teacher after college (not to mention eventually a parent with my fiancee) so i think at least part of it is that taking a kid 'under my wing' so to speak is giving me experience with it all. i've always been kinda paternal/protective over kids in general but i was the youngest sibling in my family so i never really had anyone to utilise that on before

she does rely super heavily on me emotionally, especially because after i found out she was being bullied pretty badly at school i started dropping by to keep her company during breaks/lunch and making sure shit was okay (which her still-living brother used to do, but he's a famous?? - unsure How famous, i don't know sports at all - footballer/soccer player who's often in another country and can't see her often anymore), and i've been working with her to curb that. i'm actually currently working with her parents to find her a good therapist and support system. she's no longer in the tiktok friend's discord just because it was getting a little all-consuming for her and we encouraged her to take a break, but she's done a TON of work on herself and maturing since then and she does plan to rejoin at some point soon.

however, i find it really really hard to gauge whether being so close with a child is... like normal? or not. i honestly can't tell if it's kind of the internet caution about adults talking to minors kind of warping my brain and making me overly wary of what people will think or if i'm doing something wrong or if it's genuinely like a weird situation, so i guess i'm looking for outside perspectives.

the things that make me question it is that like i said she's very 'mentally young', she's very sheltered, and there definitely seems to be an element of her kind of replacing the older brother figure she lost with me. on top of that, we met through her being a fan of my friend, and though she's now separate from that i worry there could still be an element of power there because i'm close with the guy she calls her idol. her family knows me and seem totally chill with everything, but they've told me she tells people at her school that i'm literally her brother and basically 100% talks about me as if i'm her biological family, which i find super sweet but at the same time wonder if it's healthy.

she obviously needs therapy and hopefully soon we can get her it, but: AITA for entertaining a sort of found family dynamic / friendship at all with someone very vulnerable and young or is this genuinely helpful for her?

What are these acronyms?

[byoldervine]

How To Identify Active vs Passive Voice In Your Sentences

To clarify, active voice is when the subject is performing the action, experiencing the emotion, etc. and passive voice is when the subject undergoes the action, emotion, etc. These basically come up in sentence structure as a way to make a character feel like they have more or less agency

The way to identify the difference, or at least the way I’ve used for years, is to put ‘by zombies’ after the verb. If it’s coherent, it’s passive voice, and if it isn’t, it’s active. Let’s use some examples:

“She was killed (by zombies)” -> coherent, passive

“Zombies killed (by zombies) her” -> incoherent, active

And the effect of these techniques in your writing is to make the subject read as though they have more or less agency depending on the situation, even without changing what’s going on in the scene. Neither is necessarily better than the other, it’s all about utilisation in the correct circumstances

Now some longer, Tumblr friendly examples, and you can try and practice identifying active and passive voice if that can help you:

“You kneel before my throne unaware that it was built on lies”

“It may not be that deep, but the ground is soft and I’m ready to dig”

“I hope I make it a little softer here for someone”

“If they won’t match your effort, they don’t want to be in your life”

“God may judge you but his sins outweigh your own”

[lilacxquartz]

TO SAVE A BROKEN SOUL • suguru geto cursed spirit fem!reader

ao3 • masterlist • mdni < previous chapter • next chapter >

summary: fighting with his own feelings and in an attempt to save face, suguru battles between letting you go or absorbing you into his collection.

warnings: disturbing thoughts, referenced non-con

Chapter 5: Concealment

An unwelcome visitor greeted Suguru right at his doorstep, seemingly a recent follower who was still new, barely settled into his growing found family. The man was still new to the ways of life here, but Suguru tended to accept sorcerers as they came, as long as they clearly understood his ideology.

Continuing to play into his relaxed and calm persona, he went ahead and gave the man the light of day. Given the slight look of disgust that the follower wore however, it was nightly likely that the man had likely seen something that he shouldn’t have.

Suguru couldn’t help it in that split second, his demeanour crumbling away at an instant.

He had to get rid of him before he talked.

At the verge of just barely maintaining his crumbling facade, he smiled at the man, telling him that he simply wanted to show him something special to really get him integrated into the family.

The guy, who he didn’t even know the name of yet properly, followed him with a sense of trust all the while Suguru’s face couldn’t help but darken. As he led him off into a lesser treaded area, he subtly channeled one of his curses, intending to silence the man before he had a chance to speak about something he shouldn’t.

Making up an excuse was easy enough for Suguru. The guy was new, came alone and didn’t quite know anybody too well just yet. He would cast him off as a traitor, when all he had done was quietly give a hint that he might have seen something he shouldn’t have.

Correct, Suguru didn’t even know if this guy knew.

(But a risk was a risk.)

It was only when he returned back to the canteen to reunite with Nanako that he realised that he hadn’t completely washed the blood of his hands just yet, but luckily, his daughters knew better than to ask questions about matters that didn’t concern them.

“Where’s your sister?” he asked Nanako, watching as she did something on her phone, wondering why Mimiko wasn’t with her. Those girls were always connected at each other's side like glue.

“Getting breakfast,” she casually replied, “they made pancakes today.”

“Pancakes, huh?” Suguru spoke, his gaze softening at long last. The air outside was cold, his wound still feeling sensitive from where you bit him. Luckily his robes covered the evidence, but the pain was still quite strong.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“And why aren’t you there, getting pancakes with her?” he asked in an endearing tone.

“I had something else, but I gave her my portion,” she said before lowering her hand, finally pulling the phone away from her face, “…when can we come home?”

Suguru tilted his head off to the side, understanding fully well why they both wanted to come back. It didn’t matter how comfortable the other house was; it didn’t feel right to be separated. This sort of thought only seemed to fuel his conflicting thoughts further, daring him to think about something that he didn’t even want to entertain.

“Soon,” he assured, albeit in an unconvincing tone. He smiled at her, walking her back to the dining area and sitting himself down next to Mimiko who looked a little too happy about all of those pancakes.

He pulled up a plate of something different and tried to distract himself, despite his mind still going crazy with ideas. He wondered if he should just utilise you like the rest of the spirits and maybe absorb you, because then you couldn’t stir trouble from just existing.

He didn’t want to release you back outside though, even though that had been on his mind too. There was something uncomfortable about the thought of you just freely roaming the forest, doing who knows what and where. Instead, he wanted to contain you—to keep you—to never let you go and yet he couldn’t do either, at least not in a way that worked in both of your favours.

Returning back to the thought prior, he however felt his stomach churn at the thought of exorcising you. He didn’t like that idea at all and could barely imagine it; the idea of not only killing you, but packing your soul into a compressed form and then swallowing the core of your very essence.

It disgusted him.

“I’ll be… back later,” he said, looking visibly troubled. Suguru tried to hide such feelings away from the watching eyes of everyone, ruffling the girls hair with a weak smile. “I’ll be back later and then I’ll do something nice with you tomorrow. I promise.”

The sisters nodded, full from their plates and watched him leave in silence as his mind continued to churn, as his instincts continued to pull and prod at him, challenging him, maybe even begging—daring him—to take you in, to possess you in the most brutal form.

Maybe absorption was the answer.

Oh, how he longed to have you in such a forbidden way.

In a way that challenged the grounds of your very existence.

In a way you couldn’t even begin to understand.

~~~

Yet, just as he committed himself to the very thought, his demeanour faltered from the very second he locked eyes with you. That’s when he found himself staring at something that resembled a human again and all of a sudden, he found himself feeling lost again.

Stopping himself from doing anything he was sure to regret, he balled his hands into fists that turned almost ached from such strained anger—how dare you look so afraid, so vulnerable—so much like somebody that he could possibly even love(?).

Not that much time had passed at all and yet it felt like something so painfully right.

Why did it have to be you though?

Someone who didn’t even reciprocate a single thing back? Someone who didn’t even cry after he hurt them? You were barely human and yet…

“Stop making this… more difficult than it has to be,” he gritted through his teeth, doing his best to avoid your gaze.

You however wanted to live too, though. That’s why you were reacting the way that you did. Regardless of whatever lifeform you were, self preservation and instinct would always attempt to override any sort of logic.

And just as he tried to talk himself into committing to the part yet again, he once again stopped. He wasn’t able to do it at all, unable to kill you because of a lust that swarmed over him like a disease; eating away at his mind as he lost himself in wanting you, craving you, in—

…Wait, what was he doing?

He pulled back slightly, casting his gaze over your confined form. Your front side was facing the wall with your clothes piling up to rest just above your hips again. His cock was hard, driven into your sex, realising that he was already right in the process of taking something from you yet again.

Suguru gritted his teeth as he bruised his hips against your ass, his skin slapping what was effectively stone as he succumbed to an almost otherworldly desire. He hated himself for doing this, for wanting to hurt you, for wanting to even kill you—but he also hated you all the same—for letting him go that far, this far, for not even trying to stop him.

Something wet dripped over your neck, droplets of something that smelled like salt rolling down your body. Tears? Hushed whispers could be heard as grunted cries soon followed—feverish growls escaping his lips as he wept into you—the malleable clay that he sought to ruin, that he longed to redesign now manifested as a deep sadness as he cried into your skin, painting you with his own regret.

Suguru finished into you yet another time, shuddering as he thrust another powerful rut yet again.

He melted against you, still crying into your neck.

If cursed spirits were a mirror to human negativity, then what could that have possibly made you with him and him with you…?

Pulling himself out with bloodshot red eyes still blurring his vision, he presented you with his other arm, pressing it against your lips and almost demanding that you feed on him—silently begging for you to punish him for having such thoughts—for almost doing the unthinkable, because what was he doing, when he sought to obliterate you from an existence you didn’t ask to be born into?

Suguru wept as you gave in again, shuddering as he let you suckle on his wounded flesh, like scarlet ink dampening an organic canvas, marble mixing with paper; two works of art from different mediums that collided against each other through divine will.

His blood continued to spill as you fed, staining the once white bed into vivid red, soon settling maroon.

Tears spilled from his eyes again without a single stop as his body quietly settled into yours, his demeanour seeming a little softer this time.

Suguru stared at you as you finished up and pulled his arm away from you, seeming kinder and almost even… broken.

Now all that was left was to figure out what to actually do, because nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

~~~

this is part 2 of lilac’s bite sized jjk yandere nightmares

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Heya! Hope you're drinking plenty of water and getting enough sleep :3

I was wondering if you could do romantic headcannons for Geo as a Yandere? If not, then that's alright! Feel free to ignore this ask if you don't feel comfy writing it dw :D

Geo my love *smooches his cheek lovingly*

Besotted (Yandere! Geo x MC/Reader)

Guess who respawned after a month or so, anyway my hyperfixation ended and I'm trying to cook again

CAN I GET ENCOURAGEMENT TO CONTINUE PUHLEASE I'M A SKRUNKLED BOOGER HERE RAARARARARARRA

Also. Darling Anon. Geo is mine. I am prepared to fight.

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Besotted: strongly infatuated.

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

Geo knew all too well how illegal this was.

Not that he cared, you were significantly more invaluable, indelible, incredible. You were an idealists’ biggest dream, an optimists’ highest regard, an opportunists’ greatest catch.

Geo knew better than to relent his firm grip on you, he’d do anything if it meant he could have you to himself, all to himself. A love so fiery it razed the chill of his masks, his endless facades and cold numbing scars. You torched away the husk that rendered him empty and bitter, ravaging his fortress walls and citadel gates, barging through his offences and placing your flag upon his heart.

You were a saint to him. The most ethereal of them all, the purest, kindest, greatest.

You could ask him to call you God and he’d build you a thousand gilded shrines.

He silently lurked in the depths of the lightless corridor, the one that held the entrance to your home, your soon-to-be-former home, for he’d have you with him soon.

Geo felt a smile, a genuine one, crossed his rigid, diamond features, dimples rounding his sanguine lips as his pallid hands softly caressed the orchid — indigo and navy as his hair, you’d said how it reminded you of him — and sighed.

He’d not been the type to feel much, or allow himself to. Such things were a distraction, he’d assumed. For the most part he’d been correct, but all rules held exceptions.

But you lit a flame in him, one he didn’t realise he possessed. You’d nurtured something soft, cultivated something vulnerable within him. He’d resented you for it originally. 

However, for some quaint reason, you persisted, tossed more flames into the fray — risking your own feelings and heart — to try and be with him. 

It was your fault he’d become so forlornly infatuated with you, but he wasn’t about to let you slip from him, now was he?

His whole life had been in the shadows of his brother — his darling, golden brother — and he wasn’t about to let himself be ostracised, especially in terms of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geo in general is a “quiet” yandere, in short – he’s really good at hiding it, shielding his true feelings under an aloofness that was chilling, even for his standards. He wouldn’t avoid you, but he’d appear significantly more detached than standard_geo.exe. 

However, under the feigned nonchalance and ignorance, Geo is an observer. Eavesdropping, brief staring, sometimes asking queries…he’s a smart man. He knows how to make himself appear as a quiet, uncaring person – one with no regard for others.

He’d rather die than write anything down about you, a subtle paranoia in his mind someone’d know and speak of it. He couldn’t afford to have any opportunities be sabotaged and razed before he’d even utilised them.

Geo’s main dilemma — apart from his abundances in emotional dysfunction and discombobulation — would be his “fans”. People who’d crowd his locker, toss him roses stained with their false promises and half-arsed affirmations. He wasn’t one for praise, at least….he thought so. Praise from you felt nice, he’d noticed.

He’s very used to being wanted, lusted over, clung and clawed by a hundred perverted hands, that such genuity — such honesty — the likes that came from your silver-coated tongue felt alien.

Alien in the sense his heart was thrown unto a treadmill each time you spoke highly of him, and meant it.

He’s definitely the type to try and get your attention on him, his envy of your friends — hell, even your mutuals — was growing more by the day. It wasn’t fair to him how easily the others could just be. They had much more freedom than he ever did, except for mayhaps Jess. He knew Crowe’d severed ties with his mother. How lucky he was.

Geo’d only start to panic when he recognises how his feelings grow stronger, both in vigour and potency. It’s as if a separate entity, one built of insecurities and obsession, had started eating away at all the walls he’d built up over the years of his life, replacing his cognition with sudden onslaughts of devotion.

He’d be very reliant on you making the moves, however. He wants to maintain some dignity.

If you don’t pick up on his extremely confusing and erratic hints, he’ll resort to the ultimate level of weakness: gifts.

Will have to spawn behind you when nobody is watching and give you either something you’ve wanted for ages, or just heard about a thing you like. You’re a bit confused, to say the least. He does not care.

His aim becomes to get you to obsess over why he did that, and so, eventually, you talk to him again. He knows it's a cruel thing to do, but it's the means to an end. A good end.

Would stalk- gather information on you after he learns your residence location, will meticulously plan out everything you do. He doesn’t do anything with this knowledge, he simply likes observing you.

Becomes somewhat murderous when he notices someone keeps entering your home at night. He’d assumed it was a significant other at first, one he’d inevitably get rid of…but you’d mentioned several times you were single. Then he had a miraculous idea.

Within the next few days Solivan Brugmansia — his charming brothers’ best friend — had been blackmailed and blacklisted, leaving Hyugo astounded.

He knew his brother’d lash out somehow, not that he cared. He’d convinced himself he’d lost all love for him…he hoped he did, he didn’t want to worry about Sugimoto. 

Again, his love intensified when you gifted him an orchid, purple and blue, and him feeling a passionate softness blooming in response. Starts to warm up to you more afterwards.

Geo personally was very much entranced by you now, and doesn’t step out of line too much for a long time, until you — in his eyes — hint you like him. He remains calm – barely – but when the time comes that feelings are shared (and reciprocated), he becomes significantly more watchful over you. He’d want you to wear things he gives you, whether it be jewellery or clothes. Something he — and only he — would know meant you were his, like he was yours.

He won’t get openly jealous if someone harasses or catcalls you, but he’ll definitely do something about said people. He knows everything about this city, and even more so about you.

It better remain that way, he’s not above whisking you away to a lavishly decorated basement far beyond the horizon. He wants you to have freedom,  but he’d be much more content if he had eyes on you every. Single. Second.

For now, while you’re both in school, in this fucked-up city, he’s going to have to stick to ensuring you’re in his sight, for even the richest and strongest aren’t immune to a stray shot in the dead of night…