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Guys, I had one of the weirdest 15 minutes of my life yesterday, as if some higher power put me in a jar and shook me around for a very short time and then let me out again.
But before I can tell the story I need to quickly make sure everyone has the context: Kotelet, the stray I took in had 2 bigger kittens and was super pregnant. These are the cutlets 1.0 and 2.0, youâve mostly seen the second gen as they were born with me. But the two initial kittens went to Danny. They were very wild and we tried to socialize them, but in the process unfortunately one of them got out and was lost forever. This was way back in the beginning of August. The other kitten became Dietzel and recently Danny adopted one of the 2.0 gen to keep him company since we sadly never found the other kitten again⌠Okay keeping that in mind I can tell my story.
Yesterday around 2 I left my house to go to Danny. While waiting for my tram I was texting someone who is coming to adopt the last kitten. This combined with the nose cold Iâve been having made me a bit inattentive, and I got on the wrong tram. Not too big of a problem, bc this tram also travels close by Danny, I just had to walk one kilometer. A 15 minute walk. What could happen in that time right, Iâve done this route so often.
I get of the tram and I cross a bigger intersection. Open sky above me, as is typical for an intersection. Light goes green, Iâm on the crosswalk. Suddenly, and with a loud slap, a pigeon drops dead on the ground in front of me.
I look at the pigeon. I look at the clear sky. I look back at the pigeon. I look back up. I notice the cables of the tram that go over the crosswalk, and realize it must have flown into the cables, and was killed by electrocution. At least it died instantly. Not a bad way to go for a pigeon. One moment it was going âweeeh Iâm a birdâ, next thing the lights went out.
The crosswalk light had turned red. Normally this would be immediately be followed by irritated honking, but as I make eye contact with the driver perpendicular to me, he also points at the cables and we exchange some âcrazy right??â looks while I hurry to the side of the road.
âWhatâs it called again when people tell fortune by looking at birds?â I think, (itâs Ornithomancy) âthe ancients Greeks did it, I remember it from the Odyssey⌠sure hope itâs not a bad omen!â I imagine a Greek augur predicting a war or whatever when a bird drops straight from the sky and someone going âis that bad?â I chuckle to myself, just a tiny bit nervous, and I continue my walk. Not long to go now.
âPigeon dropped dead in front of meâ I triple text Danny âCrazy. Electrocuted by the tram infrastructure. Super dead in an instance.â
A neighborhood cat cheerfully walks by me. I automatically lean down to pet it, canât cross a friendly cat without saying hi! Itâs a teenage tuxedo.
WAIT.
The cat looks at me. It has a little white moustache. It starts sniffing my boots like crazy.
Could it beâŚ
Squatting on the sidewalk, I go in my pictures folder and frantically search for pictures of the cutlets 1.0 The cat leans against me. I find a picture where the kitten has a distinctive black mark on the back of its otherwise white socks. I stare down.
On the back of its legs it has a distinctive black mark.
âYou got to be kidding meâ I say. âSniff sniffâ says the cat. He headbutts me again.
I am 350 meters from Dannyâs door. Obviously I donât have anything with me. A car drives close by. I gotta do something, so I pick him up. And he lets me. And I just start walking.
After a 100 meters, he wants to go down again, so holding him in a sitting position, I grasp his hind legs with one hand, like they hold wild birds when ringing them, and my other arm goes across him to squeeze him against my chest and I hold his front paws. He meows a little and bites me so very lightly. He just kinda presses his teeth against my skin to communicate heâs not impressed by my action, but thatâs all. Heâs still pretty tiny after all.
I ring the doorbell, and Danny buzzes me in. âBring a carrier!â I yell trough the speaker. âWhat?? Why??â âJust come down!â
He opens te door and looks confused. âIs that Kotelet??â is his first question, as they look alike. âNo, try againâ I say. Now Dannyâs eyes go wide. âNo. Itâs not possibleâŚâ
Itâs been more than 3 months. Danny just starts crying out of shock. I start laughing. Both losing it in different ways about the absurdity of the situation.
Weâre in Dannyâs living room. The little guy is eating all the wet food he can and promptly passes out. We just stare at him. The other cats are peeking in from the bedroom. I look at its white paws, all grey from the street. He purrs. We sit in silence, kind of forgetting to blink.
âDid you see my text about the pigeon that dropped dead in front of me.â
#cats#kittens#foster kittens#story#the cutlets#my cats#Puree#Danny doesnât have space for 3 cats but Iâm already talking to someone whoâs interested
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heâs a good time, cowboy casanova!
pair: cowboy!logan howlett x fem!reader
wc: 9.4k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, alternate universe/no powers, swearing, drinking, smoking, probably some inaccuracies about ranch life idk i haven't been around a horse in like two years, logan working a lasso yes god, age gap (Logan is mid-40s, reader is early-20s), THE COWBOY HAT RULE RAAAHHH, nasty dirty talk, i was so horny for kissing when i was writing this jesus, p in v, unprotected sex (do as sex ed tells you, not as i write), semi-public sex, riding, creampie, some emotional constipation cause itâs me, porn with a little too much plot, no use of y/n.
natâs note: another purely self indulgent work...i just fucking love cowboys what can i say. it's practically ingrained in me by this point. logan would never dance but like who cares he's my barbie i can make him do whatever i want! kisses <3
dividers by angel @saradika-graphics!
a cowboy and the governorâs daughter walk into a barn...
The ranch is alive like you've never seen before, almost every acre lit up in celebration of your father's recent inauguration.
Twinkling lights strung around the barn's ceiling cast a warm orange glow all around you, flickering like fireflies on a summer night.
People are everywhereâlaughing, mingling, drinking. Their faces both familiar and new, dressed in everything from head-to-toe denim to their Sunday best.
The lively music from the band floats through the space, couples on the makeshift dance floor twirling to the familiar twang of an acoustic guitar.
You take it all in from your spot against the wall, drink in hand as your eyes scan the room.
You did your share of mingling earlier in the evening, greeting the higher-upâs in your city with hugs and thanks.
You posed for pictures thatâll be splashed across the front pages of Mondayâs paper, listened to your fatherâs speech as you stood by his side with a smile.
This is the first moment you've gotten to yourself since the ball started, one you've spent in content silence while enjoying the perks of an open bar.
"What's a pretty thing like you doing all by your lonesome?"
The honeyed rasp of a voice filtering in from your left paired with the jingling sound of spurs against the soft ground grabs your attention.
At first, you turn ready to greet a stray boutique or feedstore owner you may have missed earlier. Youâre pleasantly surprised to see Marie sauntering towards you instead, a bright grin on her face that makes you smile right back.
Marie was one of the first people you met after moving to Texas at the beginning of your father's campaign, and you've only gotten closer since she started as a ranch hand down at Blackbird.
Her unruly red curls spill out from under her Stetson, the bouncy strands swinging in time with the white fringe of her show-shirt as she opens her arms.
"Thought you might have gotten lost in all the fancy folk," she teases, nearly crushing you with the strength of her hug.
You laugh as you hug her back, the warmth of her embrace a welcome interruption to your moment of peace and quiet. Her scent wraps around you, the familiar dust and lavender that's seeped into her clothes.
"Definitely not lost," you say, stepping back to meet her gaze. "Just taking it all in."
Marie smirks, leaning a shoulder against the wall beside you, crossing her arms as she watches the crowd.
"Sure is a good night for it," she says, glancing over at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Lookin' for anyone in particular? A nice night cap?"
You snort, taking another sip of your drink. Marie has always been more invested in your love life than you, hand picking guys from around town she deems worthy enough of your attention.
You know she means well, and it's almost as endearing as it is pesky, so you let her play matchmaker from time to time.
âI donât need a night cap,â you laugh, shaking your head sluggishly. "Iâm perfectly fine spending tonight alone."
Before Marie can respond, a stir from outside filters in. Loud cheers and hollers, hooves beating against dirt, the distinct whistle of a lasso slicing through the air.
Marie practically squeals, excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet as she peers through the barn doors. âItâs starting!â
You donât have time to ask what âitâ is before sheâs snatching up your wrist and turning to haul you outside.
"Marie! Where the hell are we going?" You practically trip over your own feet trying to keep up with her, your drink splashing up against the rim of your glass precariously.
Marie laughs as she pulls you out into the cool evening air, her boots crunching on the gravel as she drags you toward the commotion. âYouâll see!â
You weave through the crowd forming around the training ring, Marieâs grip still tight around your wrist as she pushes toward the front until youâre right up against the railing.Â
You peer over it, eyes adjusting to the floodlights surrounding the ring, illuminating the clouds of dust kicked up by the different ranch hands perched on horses.
A few riders take turns showing off their skills, each of them in the same show-shirt as Marie, expertly swinging lassos and wrangling cattle with practiced ease.
The energy is contagious, and you find yourself smiling, soaking in the excitement pulsing through the crowd.
Marie leans closer, her voice low and laced with something knowing. âJust wait for it, honey. Itâs about to get good.â
You give her a puzzled look, but sheâs already grinning ear to ear, her attention fully focused on a new rider that chargers into the ring.
You follow her gaze, and your breath catches in your throat.
He rides in like he owns the place, his coal black horse cutting through the fog of dirt like a shadow, sleek and powerful beneath him.
A black Stetson sits low over his face, casting shadows that only add to the rugged allure of his jawline, a jawline that could cut glass.Â
As he leans forward to grab the rope tossed at him by one of the other riders, his muscles flex, a kind of strength that isnât there for show, but for real work.
His show-shirt is stretched over the width of his chest, over broad shoulders that look like they were carved from stone, made for lifting hay bales and hundred pound feed bags.
The sleeves rolled up to expose forearms dusted with dark hair and more than a few scars. His gloved hands rest on the reins with an ease that tells you heâs more than familiar on a saddle.
Heâs not the flashiest rider, but thereâs something commanding in his presence as he races his horse towards the steer, lasso circling high above his head.
He doesnât even look like heâs trying to put on a showâhe is the show.
Marieâs grip on your wrist tightens, and she leans in again, her voice loud enough to be heard over the crowd.
âThatâs Logan,â she says, practically glowing with pride. âHeâs the foreman down at Blackbird, might just be the best damn cowboy in the whole state.â
You blink, hardly able to tear your gaze away from Logan, whoâs riding like heâs part of the horse, one seamless, commanding figure cutting through the chaos in the ring.Â
His focus is sharp, and as his lasso snaps through the air, catching the steers back leg in a clean loop, the crowd erupts in applause.
A satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, a glimmer of amusement flashing beneath the shadow of his hat.
Marie nudges you, her grin widening as she catches the look on your face. âTold you he was worth watching,â she teases, winking. âAnd heâs got a bit of a reputation for beinâ hard to impressâone of those strong, silent types, yâknow?â
You roll your eyes, but your heart beats a little faster as Logan turns his horse, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before it lands on you.
Your cheeks warm under his stare, trying to subtly make out the different features of his face from this far. His head tilts just slightly, as if heâs sizing you up from across the ring.
For a second, it feels like the two of you are the only ones there. The cheers from the audience dulling into white noise all around you, everything in your peripheral blurring togetherâeverything but him.
âHeâs goodâŚâ Your voice has gone light, airy as you watch Logan turn his horse back to lead the steer into the ring's stall with all the others.Â
Marie's grin only widens as she leans against the post, clever eyes trained on the side of your face. "You still 'perfectly find spendin' the night alone'?"
You don't respond, too busy watching the strong muscle of Logan's back ripple under his shirt as he rides out of the ringâto your complete dismayâalmost as fast as he rode in.
You're only snapped out of your trance when you can't make out his silhouette any longer. The crowd around you dissipates, filtering back into the barn while you're stuck to the fence straining your eyes for broad shoulders and a black cowboy hat.
âShowâs over, sugar.â Marie says with a snort, gently tugging you away from the post. âCome on, letâs get you another drink.â
You lost your company ten minutes ago, but you knew you didnât stand a chance when Remy found the two of you huddled at the bar.
Sheepishly coming up to Marie with his hat in his hand, pressing it to his chest as he asked her for a dance.
You waved them off with a smile, assuring Marie you'd be fine on your own for a couple songs.
It gave you a chance to step out for some fresh air, to lean against the side of the barn and sneak a cigarette while your father was busy dancing with the town's best real estate agent money can buy.
You take a slow drag, eyes peering up at the stars so you can trace the constellations. You think that this might just be your favorite part of the move.Â
Nevada has never been known for its clear skies, you can count the times youâd been able to see the stars on one hand.
You still remember the first night after you settled into your new house, the stress of the move and your fathers inauguration weighed on you enough that sleep was hard to come by.Â
You finally crept out of bed around three, climbing over your balcony to perch yourself on the roof, carton of cigarettes and a lighter shoved in the waistband of your shorts.
The first time you looked out over the horizon was like stepping into a whole new world.
The stars had never felt so close, hung through the air like diamonds. So bright against the vast nothingness that stretched out beyond the too-big ranch house on the too-many acres the state appointed you and your father.Â
It was like you could almost reach out and touch them, pluck them from the sky like fruit off a tree.
Youâd been used to the city lights, the constant hum of noise that swallowed up the stars, but here? It was different.Â
The air smelled of dust and rainwater, and the silence was louder than anything youâd ever known.
You remember the deep, quiet hum of the night, almost like it was waiting for you to catch up, to adjust to the new rhythm of the world you were suddenly a part of.
It was a moment of peace, a brief stillness from the mess crowding your head, and you found comfort in that isolation.
You take another long drag, letting the smoke curl around your fingers, the orange embers glowing bright against the darkness.
As the faint scent of tobacco mixes with the cool air, you find that same sense of peace returning, the same stillness settling over your chest.
You tilt your head back to rest on the barn, eyes fluttering shut as you let the crisp breeze lull you into its serenity.
"Those'll kill you, y'know."
A voice comes from just over your shoulder, warm and low. A smooth drawl ringing out from the shadows.
You slip your eyes open, expecting to see one of the older ranch hands or maybe even a city official looking to lecture the governor's kid.Â
It takes you a second, but the black Stetson and squared shoulders register quickly enoughâLogan.Â
You nearly swallow your tongue, eyes widening as you take in the way he leans against the barn a few feet away from you. You donât know how long heâs been standing there, watching you.Â
The moonlight dances across his face, highlighting the rough line of his jaw and the confident tilt of his smirk.
âI didnât think cowboys were oneâs for giving lectures.â Youâre shocked at the stillness of your voice, the beat of your heart picking up the tiniest bit.
Loganâs smirk only widens as he pushes off the wall, gravel crunching under his boots as he makes his way over to you, slow and deliberate. Heâs still dressed in the same outfit from before, a lasso still coiled in one hand.
He comes to a stop next to you, leaning his shoulder just inches from yours. "Not usually. But when I see a pretty girl puffin' away on somethin' that's bound to ruin her, I make an exception."
You smirk, lifting the cigarette to your lips again just to make a point, even as your pulse jumps a little under his gaze. "Guess we all have our vices.â You say, blowing out the smoke slowly, watching the way his gaze tracks its lazy drift.
Loganâs eyes trail back to yours, and you can see the color of them now that heâs closer. A mix of different greens and browns fading together, like a forest in the thick of summer.
The lightest dusting of freckles decorate the bridge of his nose, trailing along his cheeks until they disappear under his beard, a product of being out in the sun so often.
Youâre struck by how pretty he is, all long lashes and red lips.
Well, pretty for a cowboy anyway.
âYou plan on sharinâ?â
You canât stop the laugh that bubbles from your chest, brow raising skeptically. âThatâs a little hypocritical, donât you think?â
Logan just shrugs, a lazy half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. âI reckonâ itâs rude to let a lady smoke alone.â
You huff lightly, reaching into the pocket of your dress. You flick the top of your Marlboros open, slipping a cigarette out and offering it to Logan silently.Â
He takes it, his fingers brushing against yours enough to send a spark through you. It travels up your arm and all around your shoulders to seep down through your entire body, resting in your stomach to swirl through the heat simmering there.
âGot a light?â He asks, words muffled around the filter.
You roll your eyes, but reach back into your pocket regardless. Logan leans closer as you flip your zippo open, taking his hat off to cover the side of his face, blocking the flame from the lazy breeze.
Your heart stutters in your chest as he nears closer. You didnât expect heâd want you to light it for him. You will your hand to steady as you raise the flame to the tip, holding it close enough that the small light illuminates his face.
The intoxicating mix of leather and musk invades your senses. You fight the urge to lean into it entirely, to close the gap.
When the flame flickers and catches the end of his cigarette, Logan pulls back, taking a languid drag, the embers glowing between his lips.
His eyes don't leave yours as he exhales deeply, the smoke curling from his lips in slow tendrils. You canât tell if itâs the nicotine or the way heâs looking at you thatâs making your head spin.
You break eye contact, feeling the flush creeping up your neck, and lean back against the barn to cool yourself off. Logan leans beside you, a comfortable silence settling over the two of you, just the soft crackling of cigarettes and distant music filling the space between.
Logan puts his hat back on, his voice breaking through the quiet as he does. âYouâre Governor Wrightâs daughter, ain't you?â
You nod slowly, exhaling another long plume of smoke. Itâs still weird hearing it out loud. âI am.â
Logan hums, turning his head to face you again. The silver moonlight catching the glint in his eye.
âSaw your picture in the paper.â His gaze rakes from the top of your head, all the way down to the tips of your boots. âLooked real nice.â
The air feels heavier as Loganâs eyes travel over you, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle, before meeting your gaze again. His eyes hold a hint of amusement, the green of them darker than before. The heat swims through you faster, stronger.
âCongratulations.â He adds, almost like an afterthought. A quick pivot to take some attention away from how his eyes swept over your body so shamelessly.
You snort before you can stop yourself. If you had a dollar for every time youâve heard that over the past few weeks. âYeah,â you say, kicking at some rocks near your feet. âThank you.â
You can see the way Loganâs brow raises out of the corner of your eye, his gaze burning a hole along your profile.
âDonât sound too excited,â he comments, exhaling lazily. âThat why youâre hidinâ out here?â
You shrug, leaning back against the barn and tapping your cigarette to shake off some ash. âMaybe I just like the quiet,â you say. âOr maybe Iâm avoiding another round of âhow proud are you of your daddyâ small talk.â
Logan stays quiet, and you feel the overwhelming need to explain yourself. A need to fill the silence, like heâs some kind of magnet that soothes the truth from people.
You sigh, turning your eyes to the dark sky again. âIâm happy for my dad, of course I am butâŚâ You trail off, searching for the right words. âItâs just a lot.â
He chuckles lightly, a low rumble that feels more real than the sounds of laughter from inside the barn. âHell, I donât blame you,â he says, his eyes flicking up to the stars too. âNothinâ wrong with takin' a breather now and then.â
You both stand there in comfortable silence, the night stretching out around you, as vast and open as the sky above. You let yourself study Logan out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way he seems at ease, like heâs as much a part of this land as the grass and stars.
Finally, he looks over, and you feel that sharp gaze settle on you again. âYou keep starinâ like that,â he says, a teasing note creeping into his voice, âIâm gonna start thinkinâ youâre more interested in somethin' other than the stars.â
Your mouth drops open slightly, heat rushing to your ears as you search for something to say.
Loganâs smirk widens as he catches the way your breath stutters, and for a moment, the silence is thick, the air between you charged.Â
You force a laugh, trying to play it off, but itâs weak, and you can feel the heat creeping up your neck again. "Iâ"
Back inside the barn, the band switches songs, saving you from your embarrassment. A softer melody floats through the air, slow and sweet as molasses. Itâs muffled enough that it sounds almost hazy, like a soundtrack to the most wonderful dreams.
Logan turns to watch the shadows move in the light spilling through the open doors. Couples pairing off, taking to the dancefloor. All warm embraces and slow moving circles, swaying to the gentle beat.
He turns back to you, running his thumb over the coarse lasso in his hand. âCare for a dance?â
You raise your brow, skepticism written all over your face. âI donât really do that.â
Logan doesnât back down, tilting his head with an easy grin. âSeems like a waste not dancinâ in a dress like that.â
You canât fight the smile that tugs your lips up, shaking your head with a quiet laugh as you peer down at the nice floral fabric of your sundress. The wind makes it swish along your sides, the flowy fabric swaying over the knee of your boots.
âMaybe another time, Logan.â You try to ignore how good his name feels rolling off your tongue.
He takes one last drag off his cigarette before heâs stubbing it out on the worn leather of his belt and slipping the butt in his jean pocket. Itâs both the strangest and most endearing thing youâve ever seenâa cowboy that refuses to litter.
âWell Iâm gonna have to insist.â He crosses his arms over his chest, straining the fabric around his biceps. Thereâs a challenge in his eyes now, a dare.
âOh, youâre insisting, are you?â You repeat doubtfully, lolling your head to the side languidly, your hair flowing with it. âAnd how are you gonna do that?â
Logan doesnât answer with words, just raises his arm to start twirling his lasso through the air with a smug grin. He circles once, twice, three times before a deft flick of his wrist sends the rope across the way to you.Â
It slips over your shoulders, sliding down to catch on the curve of your hips.
You raise a brow, reluctant smile still playing on your lips. âDo you carry this thing with you everywhere you go?â
Logan cocks a brow, tugging on his end of the rope so it tightens around you, forcing you a step closer.
You stumble forward with a soft laugh, eyes darting up to meet Logan's. The lasso feels snug, but not tight enough to hurt, just enough to let you know heâs in control, and the thought sends a spark straight down to your core.
âYou sure you donât dance?â He tugs you a few steps closer, his smirk only deepening as he effortlessly reels you in.
You bite your lip to stifle a smile, shaking your head. âYou sure are persistent, Iâll give you that.â
Logan doesnât wait for you to say anything else, instead taking that final step forward. His grip tightens slightly on the lasso, pulling you closer until thereâs barely any space between you.Â
You can feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of your dress, his chest rising and falling with each slow, deliberate breath.
âSome would say itâs my best quality,â he teases quietly, voice dropping to something lower, like gravel and velvet. âNow, you gonna fight me the whole way through, or are we gonna dance?â
You glance up at him, your chest fluttering in spite of yourself. A thousand lame excuses run through your mind, but all you can manage is a breathless laugh, the sound caught somewhere between amusement and nerves.
âI guess I donât have much of a choice,â you murmur, hands tentatively coming to rest on his shoulders. âBut donât say I didnât warn you.â
Loganâs smile softens, his hand slinking around your hips to loosen the lasso, letting it slip down your legs so you can step out of it.
Big hands settle on your waist, brushing the soft fabric of your dress, sending a fresh wave of warmth through you. His touch is firm and gentle all at once, guiding you effortlessly into an easy sway.
The moment you fall into the rhythm of the music, your body moves naturally against Loganâs, and you can feel the charge between you intensify with each step.
His boots scrape against the dirt as he leads you in a slow, almost languid circle. Your feet match his without thinking, the sound of your boots in sync with the soft country tune playing from the barn.
âSee? Not so bad, huh?â His voice is low, a soft whisper against the backdrop of the music.
You nod slowly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. The rough scrape of his jeans against your bare legs sends a delicious shiver skittering up your spine.
âNot so bad,â you agree, your voice quieter now, the playful edge slipping away as something deeper stirs between you.
You tilt your head up, breath catching in your chest when you find him already looking down at you. His lips quirk up slightly, but thereâs a new intensity there now, something sharper than the teasing glimmer from before.
"Logan," you murmur, but your voice is barely a whisper, lost to the night air.
His free hand slides up the length of your spine, trailing along your neck until heâs cupping the side of your face. His thumb grazes your cheekbone with a gentleness you never thought men like him to be capable of.
The space between you shrinks even more as Logan dips his head, his nose brushing against yours in a featherlight touch that sends a shiver down your spine
âYou gonna tell me to stop?â He murmurs, his lips so close now you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin.
Your throat works to form words, but theyâre gone, stolen by the way his hands slide a fraction lower on your waist, pulling you flush against him.Â
Your breath hitches again, and without thinking, you close the space, lips pressing against his, soft at first, unsure. Logan deepens it almost immediately, tugging you impossibly closer.
Itâs tenderâachingly so. Loganâs lips are surprisingly soft, he tastes like top-shelf whiskey and your Marlboro Golds. They mold to yours with a gentle pressure, warm and inviting. His hand on your face tilts your head slightly, angling you just right as his thumb continues to trace soft circles over your cheek.
The warmth of it spreads through you, settling low in your stomach, and you think you could stay like this the whole night, wrapped in the quiet safety of him.
All too soon, Loganâs pulling away. You whine pathetically, lips chasing his own. Youâd be embarrassed if it wasn't for the pure need coursing through you.
âYou were right,â he mutters lowly, running his thumb along the slick expanse of your bottom lip. âThis is a hell of a lot better than dancinâ.â
âShut up.â You drag him back down by the fistfuls of his shirt, your own lips hungrily seeking out his again.
This kiss is different, something filthier, something messier. Itâs like a dam breaking to let a rush of water break free, all the tension unraveling itself as you meet again.
The gentle tilt of Loganâs head changes, and when his teeth catch your bottom lip with just enough pressure, your knees feel dangerously close to buckling.
His hand slides down from your cheek, skimming your jawline before tangling into the hair at the nape of your neck. His tongue sweeps past your lips, and the taste of whiskey and smoke is heady, stronger, dizzying.
Loganâs mouth moves against yours with a confidence that makes your head spin, like he knows exactly what heâs doing to you.
You let out a soft, involuntary sound, and that only spurs him on, the hand in your hair tightening as he presses you back against the rough wood of the barn.
It digs into your body harshly, scratching at the bare skin of your shoulders and backs of your thighs. You hardly care.
Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, knocking his hat off so you can tug him closer as your tongues slide together lewdly. Logan groans into your mouth at the sting of his scalp, you can feel the rumble of it in your bones.Â
His beard scratches against your chin and cheeks so deliciously that you canât help but imagine where else it might rub your skin red and raw. The thought alone has a shudder running through you, your hips arching off the barn unconsciously.
The subtle grind when your hips slot together is enough to have Loganâs grip tightening around your hips. His fingers flexing where theyâre still tangled in your hair. You moan softly at the hard length tenting his jeans, pressing insistently against your lower stomach, big even trapped in the rough denim.
Your body reacts to the thick plane of heat almost viscerally, your pussy aching with the need to be filled.
When you finally break apart, itâs only because neither of you can breathe.
Logan pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his forehead resting against yours, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths that match your own. His pupils are blown wide, dark and intense. You dazedly think back to the sleek coat of his horse, black as ink and shining under the rings lights.Â
His lips are an angry red and slightly swollen, glistening in the pale moonlight, and the sight of himâdisheveled and wantingâsends another wave of heat blooming through your core to leak wet and sticky in your panties.
âYour daddy would shoot me between the eyes if he caught us like this, darlinâ.â
You hide your pleased smile in the crook of his neck, trailing soft kisses from his jaw to his ear. âThen we should find somewhere a little more private, shouldnât we?â
Logan groans, hands bunching the fabric of your dress in tight fists as your lips brush against the lobe of his ear with every word, teasing. âI reckonâ we should.â
You step back, fingers trailing down to toy with the shiny belt buckle sitting pretty on his waist. âLead the way.â
Logan smirks, tongue swiping along his bottom lip. âYes maâam.â
He bends to grab his hat from where it lays at his feet, pushing his hair away from his eyes before dropping it back on his head. His hand finds the small of your back, turning to lead you away from the barn.
You try not to notice how well it fits.Â
Turns out, âsomewhere a little more privateâ is just another barn. This one filled with stray mountains of hay and empty horse stalls instead of the watchful eyes of partygoers.
You canât bring yourself to care, not when Loganâs got you pressed to the closed door, his hands roaming down your body like heâs memorizing every curve, every dip.Â
âChrist, youâre somethinâ else,â Logan mutters, his voice thick with want as his lips ghost along the side of your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that make your knees shake.
His breath is hot against your ear when he adds, âBet youâre soaked for me already, arenât you, darlinâ?â
The rough pads of his fingers drag along your bare thighs as he hikes your dress higher, the fabric bunching at your waist. The cool air kisses your skin, but itâs nothing compared to the heat between your legs as his palms knead the soft flesh.Â
You bite your lip to stifle the embarrassing moan that threatens to escape, but he catches the sound anyway, pressing a cocky grin to the side of your cheek.
âCâmon, donât get shy on me now.â His hand slides between your thighs, calloused fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties.Â
The low groan that escapes him when he feels how wet you are is pure sin, vibrating against your neck as his fingers trace over the damp cotton. âFuck, barely touched you and youâre already drippinâ for me.â
âLoganââ You start, but your words dissolve into a sharp gasp as he hooks a finger beneath the fabric, pulling it to the side.
The first drag of his finger through your slick folds has your head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. A high moan falls from your parted lips, embarrassing and needy as your thighs clench around his wrist.
Logan just hums, pressing a kiss to the corner of your slack mouth. âIs she hurtinâ real bad, baby?â he asks softly, his thumb pressed over your pulsing clit. âJust gotta give you some sweet kisses and she gets all worked up, huh?â
Your only response is a breathless whimper, your fingers clutching at his shoulders for stability as he teases you with slow, torturous circles around your clit.
His thick pointer finger slides through the slick seam of your pussy, catching on your dripping entrance before itâs sinking to the knuckle in one slow thrust.Â
You arch into him, your hips rocking instinctively to take him deeper, desperate for more. His other hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing along your cheek as his gaze locks onto yours.Â
The intensity in his eyes makes your stomach flip, your breath hitching as he watches every little expression cross your face.
âThatâs it, darlinâ,â he coaxes, sliding his finger in and out at a maddeningly slow pace. âLook at you, so fuckinâ beautiful. Takinâ my fingers so good, baby.â
âPlease,â you gasp, the need in your voice making his smirk widen.
âPlease what?â he teases, curling his finger inside you and grinning when you nearly sob at the sensation. âGotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.â
You whimper, thighs trembling as you manage to stutter out, âKissâŚkiss me.â
Logan groans, brows twitching up like that wasnât what he was expecting to fall from your slick, kiss bitten lips. He doesnât waste a second, leaning in to capture your mouth with his in a kiss thatâs equal parts desperate and bruising.Â
His lips part against yours, tongue sliding in to meet yours, hot and eager, as he sinks a second finger inside your clenching hole.Â
The kiss deepens, becoming a rhythm of its own, each stroke of his tongue matching the languid thrust of his fingers.
Logan's lips move hungrily against yours, his pace never faltering even as his fingers curl inside you, searching, teasing, untilâthere.
The moment he brushes against that spot, your back arches off the barn wall, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat. He grins against your lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to murmur, âThere she is.â
The slick sound of his fingers pumping into you fills the quiet barn, mingling with your soft, breathy whimpers. His thumb circles your clit with devastating precision, each pass of his fingers inside you coaxing your body closer to the edge.
âYouâre squeezinâ me so tight, honey,â he groans, his voice rough and dripping with praise. âCan feel how close you are. Bet youâre gonna fall apart for me so pretty, arenât ya?â
You shake your head, your breath coming in soft pants. âNo.â Your hand snakes down to his wrist, halting his movements. âWanna finish with you inside me.â
Logan stills, his breath catching as your words hang heavy in the air. His fingers stay buried inside you, the slight curl of them making your thighs quake as his eyes search yours.
The fire there burns hotter now, feral and barely restrained.Â
âYeah?â The raw hunger in his voice makes your pulse spike. âYou want me inside you, huh? Wanna feel me stretch you open, baby?â
You nod eagerly, your chest heaving as his words fan the flames of your desire.Â
âAlright,â he mutters darkly, voice gone low and smoky. âIâll give you what you want.â
Logan slips his fingers from the warm grip of your pussy, the sudden emptiness stealing all the air from your lungs. You miss the stretch almost immediately, clenching around nothing with a soft moan.
He lifts his hand between you, his fingers glistening with your wetness in the dim light. âLook at that,â he says softly, almost in awe, before slipping his fingers into his mouth and groaning at the taste.
âFuck,â you whisper, your cheeks burning at the sight.Â
Logan catches your gaze, a wicked smirk spreading across his face as he leans in close. âCâmon,â he whispers softly against the skin of your neck, hands slipping around the backs of your thighs and squeezing gently. âUp.â
You hitch your legs up around his waist, a soft breath escaping you at the way he lifts you with ease, like you weigh nothing.
You canât help but run your hands over the thick muscle of his biceps as he walks you further into the barn, lips trailing wet kisses along where his shirtâs top button popped open, exposing more of his tan skin to your greedy eyes.
Logan falls back against a knocked over bale of hay, you feel the hot length of his hard cock grinding over the slick fabric of your panties as he positions you over his lap.
You waste no time, stray pieces of hay digging into your knees as your trembling hands reach for his buckle. Your fingers brush over the cool metal as you fumble sliding the worn leather through his belt loops.
Logan just watches you, leaning back on his forearms with a smirkâcool as ever.
Once his belt is undone and his zipper dragged down, you shove at his jeans, watching with a mix of anticipation and desire as his cock springs free, thick and heavy and already leaking for you.Â
Youâve heard the expression âhung like a horseâ countless times. You always thought it was a gross exaggeration, until now.
Loganâs hand glides down his stomach to start stroking himself lazily, his eyes never leaving yours. âBeen hard since the second I laid eyes on you tonight. Could barely keep my hands to myself, watchinâ you all dolled up like that. Drove me fuckinâ crazy.â
Your mouth waters with the need to taste, eyes tracking the thick line of pre-come leaking from his flushed tip.Â
The phantom ache in your jaw almost has you dropping to your stomach right there, but you know that your time here is limited, and you need Logan inside of you more than anything.
You lean back, lifting your legs so you can shimmy your soaked panties down and off, tossing them behind you haphazardly the same way you tossed his belt.
His eyes are locked onto yours as you crawl back towards him, situating yourself over his lap all over again. You take a steadying breath as you reach for his cock, nearly moaning at the heft of it in your hand, at the near scalding touch of his silky skin against your palm.
âHang on, baby.â Loganâs hands fall to your hips, stopping you just as the tip of his cock brushes against your dripping pussy. âYou wanna ride, you gotta look the part.â
He drags his hands lower, calloused palms rough against the soft skin of your thighs. Itâs enough to make you shiver, hips twitching down with the desperate need to be filled.
âGot the boots,â he murmurs idly, thumbs sliding along the back of your thighs. âJust need the hat.â
Logan reaches up to grab his hat by the crown, pulling it off his head to drop it on yours.
You left out a soft breath, feeling the worn felt settle on the top of your head, still warm from his own.
Itâs too big, slipping down to shadow your eyes. Loganâs gaze darkens as he adjusts it, tipping it back just enough to frame your face.
âMuch better,â he says, flicking the brim once before his hands fall back to your hips. âAlright cowgirl, give it to me good.â
The words shoot straight to your core, igniting something wild and reckless inside you.
You bite your lip, spurred on by the way his hands knead the meat of your hips. Not forcing or pushing, just two steady weights as you slowly start to sink down.
It's nearly torturous, but in the best way possible. The stretch of each inch a pleasant burn as your hips slot against his after what feels like an eternity.
âFuck.â Logan grits out, his hands tightening on your hips as you settle, giving yourself a moment to adjust to the overwhelming fullness.Â
Your body trembles, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you slowly begin to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles.
Loganâs eyes track every movement, darkened with need, a quiet groan slipping from him as his hands slide lower, gripping your ass, urging you to pick up the pace.
âThatâs it, darlinâ,â he murmurs, his voice husky. âTakinâ it all so good.â
His praise only encourages you, and you lift yourself up before sinking back down, your hands gripping the scratchy fabric of his shirt for leverage.
The feeling of him filling you up, stretching you with every downward movement, makes your head swim, the pressure building in your core.
The barn is filled with the sounds of skin slapping together lewdly, with the wet gush of your pussy leaking around the base of his cock messily. It has your ears burning, shame and arousal a heady mix in your lower belly.
Loganâs hips start to rise from the barn floor, snapping up to meet yours with every bounce. You can feel him deeper like this, brushing against places that make your legs shake with pleasure.Â
Youâre dangerously close to the edge already, a mess from all the teasing earlier. But from the way Loganâs muscles flex and tense beneath you, you can tell he is too.
âGoddamn,â he growls, his hands moving to grip your thighs, helping you bounce on top of him impossibly faster. âYou feel so fuckinâ good, baby, so fucking perfect. Donât stop.â
His words make your head spin, the filthy praise sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. You canât hold back the moans spilling from your lips, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.
Your hands scramble for the front of his shirt, tugging and pulling until itâs loose enough to show off the toned muscle of his chest.
You rake your nails through the dark hair decorating his skin, hardly paying any attention to the brand burned into the skin across his left pec.
"Tell me how it feels," he groans, his voice dark and commanding. "Tell me how good Iâm makinâ you feel."
"So good," you manage to gasp, your voice breaking as he grinds against that perfect spot inside you. "Logan, Iâ"
âYouâre close,â he rasps, his grip on your hip tightening as he drives into you harder. âI can feel you, baby. So fuckinâ close. Gonna come for me, arenât ya? Gonna milk my cock like a good girl?â
Youâre too far gone to answer, your body trembling as the coil in your stomach clenches, tighter and tighter. Your head lolls back to the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut as you near the edge.
"Câmon honey," Logan groans, his thumb finding your clit again, circling it in time with his thrusts. âCome for me, let it all fuckinâ out.â
You're helpless to deny him, the thick stretch of his cock paired with the gentle pressure of his thumb on your clit tightening your body like a bowstring threatening to snap.
 âLoganâoh GodâLogan!â Your orgasm crashes over you, leaving you trembling and gasping as your walls shake around him.
Loganâs hips stutter, his rhythm faltering as he groans low in his throat. âGoddamn,â he growls, his voice wrecked. âSo fuckinâ perfect, squeezinâ me so tightâfuckââ
With a few more rough thrusts, he buries himself as deep as he can go, his body going rigid against yours as he finds his own release, groaning your name like itâs the only word he knows.
You slump onto him gracelessly, your body spent and trembling as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His cock jumps and pulses inside you, sending little aftershocks through your sensitive core as you feel the slick spray of his come painting your walls.
The rough fabric of his shirt feels oddly comforting on the overheated skin of your cheek as you rest your head on his chest, trying to catch your breath.
The brand catches your eye again, more pronounced now that the wiry hair dusted along his chest lays flush, slick with a thin sheen of sweat.
You raise your hand, gently tracing over the raised skin, feeling the rough texture under your fingertips. A curved âXâ scarred right over his heart.Â
The same âXâ that was embroidered on the front of Marieâs shirt, that hangs above the doors of the very barn you lay in, thatâs scattered all throughout the property.
You read once that not all cowboys choose the brand, only the most loyal to the ranch. A kind of fierce loyalty that knows no bounds, that has no limitsâit may be the only loyalty most will ever know.
You think back to your grandmother sitting you down at her weathered kitchen table a few days before your father and you made the move. The stern talking to she gave you felt silly at the time, useless information that youâd never actually need.
Now that you're here, her words ring in your ears for the first time in months, blaring and unavoidable.
âDonât go and get mixed up in any cowboy business, honey. Theyâll never love you more than the life, youâll always be in the rearview mirror.â
Logan takes your hand in his, bringing it from his chest to his lips for a quick kiss before pointedly lowering it to his jean clad thigh. You can feel the way his fingers flex around your wrist, telling.
You swallow hard, the air in the barn suddenly feeling thick and heavy.
You're pushing yourself to your feet before you even realize what you're doing, ignoring the dull ache as his spent cock slips from inside you.
Logan hisses at the sensation, but he's pushing himself to his feet all the same. You're dying to sneak a peek at the look on his face, but you refuse to turn to him.
Maybe out of shame, maybe out of fear for what you might find if you do.
You straighten the wrinkled fabric of your dress, trying in vain to make yourself look as half as presentable as you did before walking into this barn.
The distant sound of a zipper being tugged up and the whisper of denim against denim catches your attention. Your eyes flick to the doors, your brain going a million miles a minute as you consider your options.
You could always beat him to it. You could walk out right now and pretend this never happened, avoid Blackbird like the plague for the rest of your fathers political career.
You doubt you'd ever see Logan outside these fences, it would be so easy to forget.
You shift on your feet, lip caught between your teeth. The sweet ache between your legs only matches the one in growing your chest, all those good feelings sour at the thought of walking away.
Against your better judgment, you turn back to him.Â
Loganâs already looking at you, hands busy with slipping his belt back into place.
Youâve always been good at reading people, at gauging what they might be feeling, but as your eyes scan along the flushed skin of his face, you find yourself unable to describe what you see swirling in his eyes.
âWhen will I see you again?â Itâs weak, barely a whisper. You want to kick yourself for sounding so small, for getting so caught up in a man you hardly know.
Logan lets out a soft breath, hands coming to rest on his hips as he searches for something to say. âWhenever you have a reason to I reckon'.â
The words hang heavy in the air between you.
His answer is honest, unpolishedâjust like him. Something about it hits you deeper than you expect, a bittersweet sting that tightens your chest.
Itâs not a perfect answer, but itâs something.Â
You try to stomp down all the feelings of hope filling your mind, pointedly ignoring the eruption of butterflies in your stomach.
âWell if thatâs the case,â you say slowly, eyes never leaving Loganâs as you step closer. âThen I guess you better keep these.â
You reach around his waist to slip your panties in the back pocket of his jeans, patting the denim a few times for good measure before you step away again.
âGives you a reason to come see me again, cowboy.â
Logan chuckles, soft and sweet as he shakes his head bemusedly. He raises his hand, gently taking his hat from your head to drop it back on his own.
âYouâre really somethinâ else,â he mutters, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, the gesture tender in its unexpectedness.
You let out a shaky breath, heart pounding in your chest, and for a moment, everything feels raw.
Too raw. Like you're teetering on the edge of something dangerous and intoxicating, something youâre not sure youâre ready to handle.
You let your gaze drop to the floor, biting the inside of your cheek as you resist the urge to say something else, to push the moment further.
Instead, you turn, taking a slow step toward the barn doors.
Just before you reach them, you hear him again, his voice steady, but thereâs something in it that makes you pause, hands lingering on the doorframe.
"Donât be a stranger, alright?" he calls after you.
You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes one last time. "Wouldnât dream of it."
tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
mini nat's note: lowkey want to make this a series...like this was so fun to write and i have a few more ideas...let me know chickens <3
#â đŻđ˘đľđ˘đđŞđ˘ đ¸đłđŞđľđŚđ´ âĄ#áŻâ
đ§đđ'đŹ đŠđđŤđŹđ¨đ§đđĽ đĽđ¨đ đđ§ đĄđ¨đ°đĽđđđ!#natalia cant write anything under a 1.000 words#this is so self indulgent#i fucking love cowboys#goddamn#hope you love it!#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fic#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett smut#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine imagine#wolverine fic#wolverine smut#x men x reader#x men smut#marvel x reader#marvel smut#mcu x reader#mcu smut
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â THE THRILL OF THE HUNT.
âą TRIGGER WARNINGS: Johann literally hunts down the reader, Small outburst at the end, and a lot of bullshit talk about hunting because I like it, DEAD DOVE. No violence was used.
Synopsis: You escape from Johann, he has to track you down. WORD COUNT: 1.6k
Johann wasn't exactly the thrill-seeking kind. He always preferred a slow-paced life, not filled with many excitements or tragedies. He wasnât an adventurous spirit or a fiery soul in search of greater meaning. In his head, the only thing he needed was you.
And maybe thatâs why this exact moment made his blood boil with newfound rapture, he could swear for a moment his skin bumped at the feeling of his heart throbbing so quickly against his ribcage. The thrill of the hunt, like his father used to say, made mere men become beasts, some because it was vital for their survival, others because of the rush of power it gave them.
But he couldnât quite understand it until now. For him, hunts werenât that exciting. The game was always too easy to track down, the footsteps effortlessly concealed. The gun didnât feel heavy enough. His breath didnât quicken at the mere chance of letting his prey slip away; heâll always find a way to reach them again, after all. Animals have their habits; theyâre easy to decipher once you know their true nature.
This is the type of hunt heâs been craving for so long. Johann had to press a hand against his mouth to prevent a low chuckle from escaping. Oh, how right his father was. This was truly trilling to the core, the kind of thrill that made a foreign heat rise towards his head and seep into his very brain tissue.
Humans arenât like animals, their behavior is a little more erratic, animals can be divided between highly intelligent beings and straight-up dumb ones, but humans? All of them had their quirks, you couldnât easily guess how prepared someone could be under certain circumstances. âIsnât that so fucking interesting?âÂ
Lowering himself to the ground Johann reached to touch the freshly shaped footstep that his precious prey left behind. If theyâre leaving such a pretty trail behind theyâre expecting me to find them, what a tease.
âYou know what kind of animals roam these types of terrains?â His voice was loud enough to carry its sound through the extremely quiet, when the hunt begins, the forest goes quiet, no need to scream. âBears, moose, sometimes even wolves. Had to detangle a lot of âem from traps before, not without properly securing they wonât be able to bite, âcourse.âÂ
His heavy boots made the rotten wood and debris scattered around the forest soil yield under their weight, no need to change onto more quiet shoes, his bunny wouldnât be able to hear him coming, surely their heartbeat was the only thing resounding inside their ears. Reaching into his pocket he took out his watch, starting a countdown. âIâll give you two minutes to gain distance, cover your tracks, you can try hiding if you want, but I wouldnât recommend staying still, it makes you easier to spot.âÂ
âOnce the two minutes are done Iâll begin searching, I'll make a bird calling each 45 seconds, and once three minutes pass by, Iâll stop making bird callings and hunt in earnest, âkay? Just want to make the game easier for you, it isnât fun if Iâm the one with the upper hand all the time even if this is my subject.âÂ
With a deep sigh, he crouched down again, his hands fidgeting inside his pocket until he found a cigarette, the last one actually. Grabbing his lighter he lit up the tip, taking a slow inhale before letting the smoke escape from his lips.Â
His free hand reached to grab the gun he always had with him, it was an old friend of sorts, stuck by his side in all the worst situations, a lot of people meeting their death at the end of this same barrel. Maybe it should have your name, after all, people do name their guns sometimes.
The forest grew more eerily quiet, the sun setting down in the distance while Johann quietly awaited the starting gunshot of the race, he didnât really need to put the time on his watch, he could already count the time down to the millisecond inside his head. âForty-eight, forty-nineâŚâ His gloved fingers tapped against his lips, hands tightly clad in leather gloves, perfect for the harsh Austrian winter.Â
A part of him wished you didnât even make the effort to run away, maybe finding you curled up against a rock or a tree just waiting for him to find you was more exciting than actually pursuing you, after all, that meant you truly gave up on the idea of leaving him behindâstill, another part of his brain screamed for you to run, so he could find you and make sure you wonât try pulling up bullshit like this again.
Slowly he stood up, the watch making a low beeping sound before he began to walk, settling the gun back onto the strap around his thigh. Holding the cigarette in between his lips he began to prepare the clothes you were going to use once he caught you, after all, little you decided to escape both barefoot and barely dressed, the worst thing in this forest beside him was the cold. Holding the spare jacket he always brought with him inside his bag and a blanket he continued to walk nonchalantly, not even sparing a single stare in any direction that wasnât just dead front and center.Â
Johann's stare drifted onto the floor, a little disappointed that you didnât take his recommendation into account, there, clear as day, were your pretty little marks for him to follow like a bloodhound. Johann even took the time to carefully make sure he didnât accidentally step into any of them, not wanting to overshadow the loving tracks you left behind for him with his heavy boots.
He knew very well he was taking all of this too lightly, this was a high gamble where he could lose everything or gain all, but still the elated sense of happiness and bubbling excitement made him more self-confident, too sure you wouldnât get away too far, and even if you did, heâd stay in the damn forest all the time necessary for you to realize you need to go back onto his loving arms.
Stopping dead in his tracks he turned around as he heard a small sound coming from behind a fallen stump, dead bark peeling off the treeâs corpse. There you are.
And there you were indeed, curled up in a ball, back pressing against the rough bark as you held your arms around your torso, bracing yourself from the harsh winter cold, from the shiver that ran down your shoulders towards your legs or the sight you so pathetically defenseless made him smile, a blush creeping up onto his features.
âYou didnât even run far enough to let me do any bird calls, are you that tired, baby?â He kneeled down in front of you, but as soon as you jolted up in surprise Johannâs hand shot to grab your wrist with unnerving quickness. His dark eyes bore into you, a small smile gracing his lips, but there was no emotion behind that expression of his. âThatâs okay, next time Iâll give you some proper equipment, some shoes wouldnât hurt.âÂ
His thumb caressed the skin of your wrist, while his other hand threw away the now almost half-smoked cigarette that Johann held in between his lips. Eventually he reached to grab your head in between them, rubbing your cheeks with such tenderness that it could be even soothing in a different situation. âThere, you did good. Not good enough to grant you a reward, but you did have me a little scared back there.â His smile widened as he lied through his teeth. You frowned, tired, freezing cold and also breathless, but still with enough energy to try and pry his hand away from your wrist, it was useless, he was latched onto you like a handcuff. âFuck yoââ Before you could even finish he reached to clasp his free hand onto your mouth, the sudden movement making you stumble backward, head pressing against the tree. âFuckinâ language.â He whispered between his teeth, staring at you dead in the eyes. âYou should be grateful I didnât put a damn bullet in between those pretty eyes of yours. Runninâ away from me like that? After all I did for you? I let you away from my sight for just a second and you go jolting away like a fucking rabbit.âÂ
Taking a deep breath he lowered his head, slowly pushing his hand away from your mouth, his face leaning closer to you, the only warm feeling gracing your warm body being his hot breath against your face. âSorry âbout that.â He pushed your lower lip with his thumb, pressing a soft kiss onto your flesh as some sick and twisted kind of apology.
âI wonât be as lenient next time, âkay? You know I care about you a lot, meine Liebe, donât want you getting hurt.â He forced a smile, leaning his forehead against yours, but again his voice was masked by the thumping sound of your heart against your ears. âLetâs get you back to the car, Iâll get you all warmed up and cozy.âÂ
You just let him grab you, his hands effortlessly grabbing you and carrying you bridal style as both of you made your way back toward the car, you stole a few glances at Johannâs face, finding a small smile and that darn blush in his cheeks that showed how much he enjoyed himself, maybe a twisted part of him was truly pleased by all of this, even if it just started as a rebellious act of trying to escape from your part.
âHear that? Itâs a White-tailed eagle. Birds of prey, always hunted them with my father as a child.â Suddenly the forest wasnât so quiet anymore, the hunt has ended.
#ah yes#is that#âthe author's thinly veiled fetishesâ moment#anyways hope u guys don't mind me nerding about hunting...#male yandere#yandere#yandere oc#yandere x reader#chrona... writes stuff?#johann the bastard
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Sunshine [10] - Storm
AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! â¤ď¸ Youâre amazing! â¤ď¸
I hope you like this as well, and please donât forget to tell me what you think, thank you! đĽ°
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader
Summary: A sudden storm can be overwhelming.
Word Count:Â 3670
CW: Explicit language, blood, injuries, adult themes MDNI
Series Masterlist
Getting too caught up in a relationship hadnât been an issue since youâd had Theo, but before him, there was a reason why all your friends accused you of being a romantic. When you fell in love, you didnât even think about the possibility of a break up butâ
You really should have.
âLogan?â
Logan looked down at you, running his fingertips over your spine while you played with the dog tags around his neck.
âYeah?â
âI have a question but you need to promise me youâll be honest.â
A rumble of a chuckle vibrated in his chest, making you bite back a smile as you looked up at him, resting your chin on his chest.
âThe last time you made me promise that, you ended up asking me what animal I thought I could beat in a fight.â
âThat was for science.â
âHow?â
âIn case one day we decide to go on a safari and end up getting stranded in there.â
âThatâs a possibility?â
âYou canât be too careful,â you said. âIâm used to thinking about every scenarioâanyway, this is another question.â
âIâm listening.â
âSo you have the super strength and all thatâŚâ
âYeah.â
âWhat supernatural creature do you think you could take down in a fight?â
Logan blinked a couple of times. âThatâs the question you want me to answer honestly?â
âCould you take down a werewolf?â
âWeâre actually talking about this,â Logan muttered to himself. âOkay.â
âA werewolf,â you insisted. âCould you take down a werewolf?â
 He took a deep breath, then shrugged his shoulders.
âI donât think itâd be that difficult to take down a werewolf,â he stated and you hummed.
âA little cocky, but Iâll let it slide,â you said, laying your head on his chest again. âA vampire.â
âPlease, vampires are lame,â he said with a grimace. âI could definitely take down a vampire, are you kidding?â
âYou sound so sure of yourself that Iâm half-tempted to ask if youâve ever taken down a vampire.â
He let out a chuckle. âIâm not going to be beaten by a creature that canât survive in the sunlight even if itâs hypothetical.â
âThey are pretty powerful.â
âTo repeat, they burn in sunlight. Doesnât sound powerful to me.â
You clicked your tongue.
âHow about a zombie?â you asked. âCould you take down a zombie?â
âThose things fall apart anyway, shouldnât be difficult.â
âWhat if itâs a herd?â
âSame logic.â
âYouâre telling me you could take down one hundred zombies?â
âThatâs exactly what Iâm saying.â
You hid your yawn behind your hand. âUm, mermaids.â
âMermaids arenât even scary.â
âNo, not that type ofâlike those in Pirates of the Caribbean, have you watched that?â
âNo.â
âIâll put that on the list. Itâs likeâitâs like sirens, they lure you to the sea and then drown you.â
He paused for a moment, then hummed.
âYeah, I think a mermaid could take me down.â Â
âReally?â
âIâm not good with water.â
âCan you swim?â
âI can swim but if I try to stay still in the water I sink,â he said slowly. âBecause of the skeleton. And like I said, Iâm not good with water.â
Something in his voice sounded distant so you decided not to push him. You were way too sleepy for a big conversation anyway, and you didnât want to force him to talk about anything he didnât want to talk about. Heaving a sigh, you nuzzled closer to him and he dipped his head to press a kiss on top of your head.
âHow about you?â he asked. âWhat supernatural creature could you take down in a fight?â
âDo you know any creatures you can disarm with the power of speech?â you asked, making him let out a laugh.
âNot really.â
âI mean I think Iâd have a better chance surviving a vampire than a werewolf,â you murmured, your voice already drowsy. âWerewolves have fewer weaknesses I think, and yes vampires can hunt you down but only in night time. Well, werewolves can only hunt you down during the full moon, thereâs that but I feel like as far as supernatural creatures goâŚâ
You didnât even realize you were falling asleep.
Until a soaring pain pulled you out of it.
A scream left your lips as your eyes snapped open, your hand shooting to your other arm to grab at it. You sat up straighter in the bed, now realizing Logan was also awake and upright in bed, breathing hard and unsheathing his claws. Your name spilled from his lips in a whisper as you looked down at your arm, the blood pouring from the open wound, coating your hand and the sheets in red.
âIâm fineââ you managed to say breathlessly while Logan stared at you, complete terror in his eyes. âIâm fine itâs justâŚumââ
âLet me see,â he said in a low voice and you tried to blink back the tears with a grimace. Logan carefully lifted your arm, letting you see the three gashes through all the blood under the dim light of the moon coming from the window.
Shit.
âYou need stitches,â Logan muttered as he grabbed his jeans to put them on. âWeâre going to the hospital.â
âStitches?â you repeated, looking down at your arm. âAre you sure?â
âThose are deep cuts,â his voice sounded a little distant again and you couldnât tell it was because of the blood loss you were currently suffering from. He bunched up his white shirt to press it against the wound, making you hiss in a breath.
âIâm sorry,â he said as he swallowed thickly. âIâm so sorry.â
âWhatâno, itâs fine!â you said in a haste, trying to focus through the fire burning your arm. âItâs not your fault.â
âIt is.â
âLoganââ you started but he went to grab your sweater off the chair at the corner of the room, then made his way back to you. He helped you get into it, then into your jeans while you held onto his shoulder trying to move your arm as little as possible.
âI can carry youââ
âLogan, itâs just my arm,â you assured him with a huff of a laughter. âI can walk. Itâs totally fine.â
A shadow crossed his eyes, his jaw clenching tight.
âRight,â he muttered through his teeth. âYeah. Letâs go.â
                                              *
You really, really hated hospitals. As a child, you were quite the troublemaker so youâd had your fair share of hospital visits, and each and every time was quite painful. Even now, as a grown up, you couldnât help but feel tense whenever you had to go to hospitals.
And Theoâs very scary birth hadnât helped the situation.
But if anything, this really wasnât a big deal. A couple of stitches and you would be fine, but Logan looked much more tense than you were. He was completely quiet and withdrawn, standing in the corner of the hospital room like a guard dog while the doctor worked on your arm.
âSo how did you get this, exactly?â she asked and you tried to smile at her.
âOh, uhâŚI work in a diner,â you said. âAnd as it turns out, night shift and sharp objects arenât a good combo.â
âIâd bet,â she said as she pulled back to look at the stitches, then took off her latex gloves. âWell the good news is, itâs a very clean cut so itâll be much easier to heal. Keep it dry the first day, and after tomorrow you can wash around it with clean water twice a day.â
âOkay.â
âTake the antibiotics, apply the cream I prescribed andâŚwell, be careful around knives?â she said with an assuring smile and you let out a small laugh.
âNoted. Thank you so much, doctor.â
âHave a nice night,â she said and walked past the cubicle curtain. You let out a breath, feeling around the gauze before lifting your head to smile at Logan.
âHey,â you said. âYou okay?â
For some reason, Logan couldnât hold your gaze like he usually would, so instead he stole a look at you before fixing his gaze on the floor and nodded.
âSure.â
âYou donât like hospitals either huh?â you asked, âI mean if I hate the smell, I canât imagine how you feel with those enhanced senses of yours.â
Logan didnât answer, instead he rushed to help you when you grabbed your coat so that you could put it on.
âThanks,â you said and he pulled his hands back as if he could burn you if he kept them on you a second longer than he needed to. You pulled your brows together, but didnât comment on it as you started walking beside him to get out of the building.
You didnât really do well with quiet so the music coming from the radio and your nonsense chatter were the only things filling the silence in the car. Logan met your questions with occasional grunts to signal that he was listening and at best you got curt, one-word answers.
It was only when you walked into your apartment and Logan followed you like a quiet guardian that you turned to him, putting your hand on your hip.
âLogan.â
He closed the door behind him. âHm?â
âDonât get me wrong, I can talk until the sunrise but this is becoming a one-way street,â you told him. âAre you okay?â
He blinked a couple of times as if he couldnât believe you were asking him that.
âAre you?â he asked back after a beat and you shrugged your shoulder.
âItâs not the first time Iâm getting stitches,â you said. âAnd to be completely honest with you, after childbirth everything else they do to you in a hospital kind of pales in comparison. Iâm fine.â
He snorted, then clicked her tongue. âSure.â
âNo seriously, itâs just stitches,â you said, walking to the kitchen to fill yourself a glass of water. âAnd you heard what the doctor said, itâll heal pretty easily.â
You popped the painkillers in your mouth, then downed them with water before putting the glass back on the counter, then walked back to the hallway.
âIf I go to sleep right now, I think I can survive on three cups of coffee instead of four tomorrow,â you joked with a grin, but he couldnât even smile back, he just followed you to the bedroom. After helping you get into a comfortable oversized shirt, he took a step back as you sat down on the bed. You frowned, tilting your head.
âAre you coming?â you asked, motioning at the bed and Logan shook his head.
âNo,â he said, his voice deep. Your frown deepened.
âWhat?â
âI should uhââ he motioned at the living room. âIâll sleep on the couch. Iâd still hear if you needed anything at night and itâd be safer.â
âSafer?â you repeated. âLogan, come on.â
âI canât risk another nightmare and you ending up withâŚâ he nodded at your arm and you scoffed a laugh.
âThat wonât happen.â
âYou donât know that.â
Alright, this was strange.
Logan was never this curt with you. He wasnât the most open person in the world, yes, but whenever he spoke to you, his voice would always be warm, melting your insides. Now he sounded way too distant, way too controlled.
You might as well have been speaking to a robot.
âWhy are you punishing yourself right now?â you asked, looking him in the eye and something in his gaze shifted before his jaw clenched again, then he shook his head.
âCall my name if you need anything,â he said, walking out of the bedroom and you blinked a couple of times in confusion. A sigh left your lips and you rubbed at your eyes, then slowly lay down on the bed, grimacing when a sudden spark of pain shot through your arm. You put your pillow under your arm, then grabbed Loganâs pillow to bury your face into it, the pleasant smell of his cologne soothing your senses before sleep creeped up on you, pulling you into its warmth.
                                                *
 When you woke up, you were still groggy and your arm was throbbing. A grimace twisted your face and you took a deep breath, then pulled yourself up to sit up in the bed, and looked down at your arm, feeling around the gauze. It wasnât extremely painful, but it still made sure to let you know it was there so you had a feeling you were going to have to be extra careful carrying plates at the diner, at least for a while. The delicious smell coming from the kitchen made you turn your head and you nibbled on your lip, then slowly pushed the covers off of you and got up from the bed to make your way to the kitchen.
âHi stranger,â you said with a grin and Logan looked over his shoulder, then put the grilled cheese sandwich right next to scrambled eggs on the plate.
âMorning.â
âIf breakfast is your way of apologizing for not sleeping next to me last night,â you said as he poured you coffee, then placed the cup on the small table next to the plate. âItâs the right path.â
A forced smile twitched the corners of his lips upwards before you sat down, then grabbed the sandwich to take a huge bite.
âArenât you eating?â you asked and he shrugged his shoulders.
âNot really hungry.â
You blinked a couple of times; that was new.
âLogan,â you said, clearing your throat before putting the sandwich down. âI think we should talk about what happened.â
âI agree, but after breakfast.â
You pulled your brows together in confusion, then shrugged with one shoulder before grabbing your coffee cup to take a big sip. Loganâs gaze didnât leave you as if he was trying to take in the sight of you as much as he could, as if he was trying to burn this- you, this moment- into his mind. The look in his eyes wasnât distant anymore but worse; it was just haunted. You could feel your stomach doing an unpleasant flip before you tried to shake off the chill running down your spine, then chewed your bite and cleared your throat.
âWhat time did you wake up?â
Logan shook his head slightly.
âDidnât sleep.â
âAt all?â you asked, gawking at him and he shrugged his shoulder almost nonchalantly.
âItâs fine.â
âWell itâs actuallyââ you started but were cut off when your phone started ringing in the bedroom.
âOne moment,â you said and rushed to the bedroom to grab it off the nightstand, then answered it.
âHello?â
âHey love,â Staceyâs voice reached you. âDid I wake you up?â
âNo no, I was already up,â you said and sat down on the bed. âWhatâs up?â
âOkay so, the boss is going to kill me, butâŚâ
âDonât say it.â
âIâll be late again.â
You let out a small laugh. âStace.â
âOkay I know what youâre gonna say but this time itâs totally not my fault.â
âNo?â
âWell, my body decided to have a hangover after last night, so technically itâs not my fault.â
You hummed. âHow much did you drink?â
âWell it was my friendâs birthday and Paul and his friends were at this bar and we decided to go have fun, and then my friend hooked up with Paul so I had to drink a lot to stop myself from visualizing what was going on in the bathroom.â
âI can imagine,â you said. âItâs fine. Iâll cover for you, no worries.â
âUgh, youâre an angel and I love you.â
âLove you too Stace,â you said with a laugh, then hung up the phone and shook your head before making your way back to the kitchen.
âSorry about that,â you told Logan and sat down. âItâs Stacey, youâve met her.â
âYouâre going to work today?â Logan asked. âAre you sure thatâs a good idea?â
âOh yeah, itâs totally fine,â you said. âI barely feel it to be honest, and Iâll be careful.â
âButâŚâ
âBesides, I need to cover for Stace,â you said. âApparently her friend hooked up with Paulâyou remember our line cook Paul? Heâs kind of a womanizer, Iâm kind of surprised she and Paul never had a thingâthey sure do flirt a lot but anyway, Staceyâs friend and he hooked up last night and knowing Stacey, she probably drank everyone under the table, and now she has a hangover. Shocking, isnât it?â
Logan nodded slowly without pulling his gaze off of you.
âDid I tell you about how when Stacey and I first met, I ended up getting black out drunk?â you asked, biting into the grilled cheese sandwich. âIt was my first day at the diner, and she convinced me to have a night out with her, and I swear to you, that girl is a goddamn sponge when it comes to alcohol. I was out a couple cocktails in, and she still had numerous shots and cocktails after. Julie was taking care of Theo that night, so I ended up sneaking into my own apartment so that he wouldnât wake up, and rambled to Julie for like two hours straight about kittens, and then fell asleep watching cat videos.â
A small, sad smile curled Loganâs lips and you smiled back at him, then took another sip of your coffee and put your empty plate into the sink.
âCompliments to the chef,â you said with a grin despite the strange tension almost palpable in the kitchen. âIf you ever get tired of going on missions and stuff, you could go into culinary world I feel like.â
He scoffed a laugh and you took a deep breath, then cleared your throat.
âSo,â you said. âCan we talk?â
Logan swallowed thickly and nodded his head, his jaw clenching.
âYeah.â
âI donât blame you for what happened, at all,â you said. âIt was an accident. YouâŚyou had a nightmare right?â
Logan paused for a moment, then shook his head. âThatâs not an excuse.â
âLogan, thatâs an accident,â you insisted. âYou really shouldnât blame yourself. I donât.â
âYou should.â
âWell then sucks to be you because Iâm not gonna,â you said. âAnd unless you want to get separate beds like those weird couples in the 1950s, I donât see how youâre planning onââ
âI think we should break up.â
That managed to shut you up mid-rant. Your eyes snapped up to his and for a couple of seconds, you could only gawk at him in complete silence, your throat getting tighter.
ââŚWhat?â you managed to rasp out, your voice lost somewhere in your throat and Logan crossed his arms, leaning his back to the wall.
âItâs going to be safer for youââ
âWhat are you even talking about?â
âDo you realize what couldâve happened?â he asked back, his voice tense. âWe got lucky, if you can even call last night that.â
âLogan, itâs a goddamn scratch!â
âYeah, this time!â he insisted. âThis time it was only a scratch on your arm, what about the next time? What if it wasnât your arm?â Â Â
âYou cannot be serious,â you said, blinking back the tears as you shook your head. âYou canât.â
âIâm not going to have your blood on my hands,â he said, his eyes locked in yours. âI canât hurt you. NotâŚnot you. I was so wrapped up in this that I forgot how dangerous I could be for youââ
You let out a breath, running a hand over your face. âDonât give me that speech again.â
âIâm not talking about some silly heartbreak,â Logan told you through his teeth. âIâm talking about life and death. You might see it as nothing, but we both know that itâs not nothing.â
You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to remain calm and sniffled, blinking back the tears again.
âI told you, Iâm going to be the one who decides whether this relationship is dangerous or not.â
A dry laugh climbed up his throat.
âDo you have any idea what it would do to me if IâŚâ he couldnât even finish the sentence as if the mere thought was way too painful. âI canât put you in danger.â
âYouâre not putting me in danger,â you insisted. âYou can hear my heartbeat, canât you? You can smell it when Iâm scared, when Iâmâwhen Iâm nervous. So tell me; last night, was there even a second that I was scared of you? Or this morning? Have I ever been nervous around you because I thought I was in danger?â
That made him pause for a moment before he shook his head. âNo.â
âThere you go. Thereâs your answer to your moral predicament.â
âThat makes it even worse,â he rasped out and you frowned.
âHow?â
âBecause now it falls on me to do it,â he said. âAnd I canât even fucking convince myself that you want it.â
You sniffled, shaking your head.
âDonât do this,â your voice was a low whisper. âPlease donât do this.â
He stared at you, the look in his eyes so painful that for a moment it made you think you were somehow tormenting him with mere words before he clenched his teeth and stepped closer to you so that he could carefully wrap his arm around your waist. He moved slow as if he was terrified that he could somehow hurt you just by touching you and he dipped his head to press a kiss on top of your head as you sniffled, making his grip around your waist tighter for only a moment. You could feel him nuzzle into your hair and stay there completely frozen for a couple of seconds, as if he couldnât bring himself to pull back.
âIâm sorry,â he managed to say after a beat and pulled back, then walked out of the kitchen. You heard the front door open before it closed, and as if on cue you fell on your knees, burying your face in your hands.
Then the sobs started.
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#deadpool#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#wolverine#wolverine x reader#logan wolverine#logan x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x you#james howlett#logan howlett imagine#logan x you#james logan howlett#logan xmen#wolverine logan
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AI in Unification?
If you, like me, couldn't fully enjoy Unification because there was a horrible feeling in your gut the whole time of "is this AI? Did Shatner really let them use AI? That seems like a thing he'd do, because he's kind of awful" then you've come to the right place.
I did a deep dive of the technologies used for Unification and while this isn't a 100% comprehensive guide here's what I've learned:
According to Trekmovie.com's article about the film, the production team used a "team of artists and animators, who combined digital and physical prosthetics with live-action location photography, virtual production, and CG set extensions" and used "OTOYâs âOctaneâ rendering software and the âRender Networkâ decentralized GPU rendering platform. Characters and props were digitized using OTOYâs Academy-Award winning âLightStageâ scanning system."
So what are all these proprietary names / jargon, and are any of them AI?
LightStage: A scanning tech that allows for digital capture of a human face (probably used to capture the stand-ins faces and superimpose older footage of Spock / Kirk like they would for a video game motion capture or something) = Not AI
OctaneRender: "Fastest unbiased, spectrally correct GPU render engine" (Probably used for sets based on the example I'm seeing on OTOY's website. It DOES use AI for "denoising and lighting" but this is a feature of the program and not the only thing the program does, so it is unclear if this is something they would have employed for the shot film. If they did, this would not be used for character work / deep fakes, and given what little information is written about this tech I'm almost curious if it is even a full AI system at all or just an automatic denoiser that they've dubbed as AI to look impressive. So I'd say results inconclusive here at best.)
The Render Network: "The network connects node operators looking to monetize their idle GPU compute power with artists looking to scale intensive 3D-rendering work and with machine learning developers looking to train and tune AI models. Through a decentralized peer-to-peer network, the Render Network achieves unprecedented levels of scale, speed, and economic efficiency. " (This basically means people can use the platform FOR AI but means nothing in the context of whether AI was used for this project.)
TL;DR: AI is an umbrella term for a lot of technology and it seems if anything, there may have been some AI used in the background rendering process but nothing generative AI / deep fakes. In my cynical opinion, if they HAD used AI in general for this, I feel like they'd be shouting it from the rooftops right now since people who love AI won't shut up about it. I'm tentatively saying this was 99% made with traditional CGI and artist work as is stated in the Trekmovie.com article, but I wouldn't be surprised if that opinion changes as the day goes on and more information is released.
#star trek#star trek unification#unification#unification star trek#spirk#unification short film#generations#spock#kirk#s/k
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This is one of the reasons I like the idea of shifting to talking about kyriarchy instead of patriarchy. Patriarchy has been a useful word, but it's started to facilitate misconceptions that are doing more harm than the good it's continuing to facilitate.
Men aren't responsible, as a whole group, for the problems of oppression within society. There are many more interacting axes of oppression, and men aren't even responsible either collectively or exclusively for problems, specifically, of misogyny. There are women who perpetuate misogyny, and there are men who actively reject misogyny.
Ironically, sometimes the women who perpetuate misogyny are the ones yelling the loudest that "the patriarchy" is to blame for all your problems, white cishet women of the world! Radfems will tell you that you need protection because you could never be as physically strong as a man. Radfems will tell you that you need special chess leagues, because you could never be as smart as a man. Radfems will tell you to embrace your "womanly intuition", because you could never be as rational as a man. They'll tell you that you don't need to think about checking yourself for inclinations to abusive behavior, because only men have the agency to be abusers. Maybe not in so many words, but if you read between the lines a little, the misogyny is plain to see.
And of course, yes, misogyny is a real problem in the world, and a lot of it is perpetuated by powerful men, who do it on purpose to maintain their power. But it's not the only oppression those powerful men wield, and it's not only wielded by men, nor do only men wield any other oppression.
All oppressions are interlinked and enabling any one of them degrades protections against all the rest. Misogyny ties into ableist ideas of superiority being based on strength, intelligence, etc. and then paints women as weak and foolish to associate women with inferiority. You can't unpick that thread from the fabric of the world without also unpicking the thread of ableism. Misogyny ties into bioessentialist ideas of biology defining who you are and limiting what you can become -- ideas that are also baked into both racism and transphobia, and which cannot be unpicked without also unpicking those additional threads, and the other ones they connect to as well. Homophobia also ties into bioessentialist ideas and misogynistic ones -- painting gay men as "feminine" to stigmatize them, etc.
To explain every interconnection of the oppression web of kyriarchy is beyond the scope of this post, but that's enough for an illustrative sample. Focusing only on dismantling patriarchy leaves too many other threads in place, and as long as they're in place, patriarchy will always manage to rebuild itself. The whole web has to be dismantled before the work can be considered "done".
garden variety conservative transphobia is going to get worse but radical feminism is also going to get worse. if youre a cis women terfs are going to try to recruit you and make you believe that the reason your rights are at stake is because of trans people. they're going to tell you that all men are your violent oppressors and they're going to include trans women in that category. they're gonna tell you about women who are gender traitors and joined the enemy and they're going to point to trans men. don't believe them. trans people are not your enemy, we have no power over you, and we desperately need your support and your solidarity.
be aware of radfem pipelines and dog whistles too. be skeptical of anyone that talks about the divine feminine or correlates birthing, menstruating, or female reproductive organs with womanhood. be especially skeptical of people who use those biological things as reasons to why women are more spiritual, or more in tune with nature, or just that they're better than men (read: anyone they decide is a man)
radical feminism is an expected reactionary outcome from cis women who are being oppressed by conservatives, especially when all they practice is ciscentric, liberal, white feminism. they feel the need to be radicalized but don't have the experience and information to pinpoint the true source of their suffering. trans people are not your enemy, AMAB people are not your enemy, anyone who identifies as a man is not your enemy. we're all being crushed under the same stone
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Was wondering about for your post 'captain is a terrible dad' if junior somehow convinces the league through the power of misunderstanding that 'billy' is the newest actual baby of the family? Like maybe tim is talking to junior about his younger siblings(damian stabbing him or smth), and Junior tells him about Billy and since they never heard about him before they think marvel just had another baby? Even worse if you also include the au where people think Marvel and Adam are exes and they think Marvel got close to him again?
Ever since Tim learned about Marvel having a new kid, heâs been thinking about it nonstop. Itâs been bugging him and he really wants to ask about it. The only problem? Every time heâs tried to approach Marvel to ask about it, something has question-blocked him.
Robin!Tim: âMarvel, can we talk?â
Marvel: âSure, whatâs up?â *smiles*
Robin!Tim: âWell-â
Marvel: *comm rings and he realizes itâs an emergency* âSorry, I gotta go. Weâll talk later right?â *flies off*
Eventually, after a week of this, Tim finally got his chance in one of the watchtowerâs kitchens.
Robin!Tim: âMarvel , can I ask you something?â
Marvel: âSure, go ahead.â *stirring something in a bowl*
Tim had spent the past week practicing how the conversation would go, yet didnât even think about how he would start it.
Robin!Tim: *just decides to rip off the band-aid* âUh⌠Why do you keep having kids if you hate them?â
Marvel: *slowly stops stirring his bowl so he stop and stare incredulously*
Robin!Tim: âItâs- Itâs the little things. Like the little looks of disgust when they say something a kid their age would say. Or like the blatant disregard you have for their safety. Or the threats of violence.â
Marvel: *puts the bowl down* âWhat-â
Robin!Tim: âLike isnât it parenting 101 that you donât tell your kid they shouldâve been lobotomized??â
Marvel: *forgot he said that to Mary the other day* âUh-â
Robin!Tim: âAnd then thereâs the fact that if I asked, you wouldnât even be able to tell me where even one of them are at this moment, would you? They could be kidnapped, or lost, or in some other deep shit and you wouldnât even notice! I havenât seen this level of negligence in anything other than my own parents, and they didnât even notice their own child sneaking out at night to take pictures of Batman!â
Marvel: *sounds concerned* âYou were neglected-â
Robin!Tim: *grabs a nearby stool, hops on, then stands on his tippy toes so he can look Marvel straight in the face* âAnd donât get me started on Black Adam! Why in the world would you even want to get back with him??â
Marvel: *sounds horrified because that inplies they were together at some point* âWho told you that?â
Robin!Tim: âWhat do you mean who told me that?? Itâs obvious to literally everyone!â
Marvel: *looks around as if looking for hidden cameras* âIs it though-â
Robin!Tim: âYES! It is. What on earth could you possibly see in him? There are literally multiple videos of him throwing both you and your kids through buildings.â
Marvel: *goes back to looking for the hidden cameras*
Robin!Tim: *continues his rant* âAnd then you decided to do the worse possible thing you could do in this situation which was bring in another kid?? What is wrong with you???â
Marvel: *a little speechless but finally gets something out without being cut off for the 50 millionth time* âWhat do you mean bring in another kid?â
Robin!Tim: âBilly!â
Marvel: âBilly??â *sounds more confused now*
Robin!Tim: âThe baby!â
Marvel: âWhaâŚ? Billy isnât the baby, Darla is??â
Robin!Tim: âWho is Darla???â
Marvel: *realizes he said her actual name* âThe purple one.â
Robin!Tim: âShe has a name??â *just completely confused now* âThen whoâs Billy??â
Marvel: âHeâs just some kid that doesnât have powers.â
Robin!Tim: âHeâs not one of your kidsâŚ?â
Marvel: âNo? I donât have kids?â
Robin!Tim: âThen how are you related to Junior and Mary and all the other kids??â
Marvel: âWeâre siblings? They have a mom and a dad, Robin.â
Robin!Tim: *pauses* âThat still doesnât excuse the fact that you let a bunch of preteens run around fighting crime on their own, unsupervised. Also why are you so much older than them if youâre siblings?â
Solomon: âSay theyâre several thousands of years old.â
Marvel: âTheyâre all several thousands of years old. Theyâre not idiots. They can fight on their own. As for me? Iâm several tens of thousands of years old.â
Robin!Tim: *dumbfounded*
Marvel: âNow what was this about being neglected by your parents?â
Marvel then proceeded to get Tim to trauma dump about his parents, about his vigilante life, and about everything else.
Robin!Tim: âI just canât believe they didnât notice!â
Marvel: âThatâs terrible.â *hands him the bowl from earlier*
Robin!Tim: âI know!â *absent-minded, stirring of bowl*
By the way, I almost finished this and then lost all the progress so I had to redo all of this. If I hadnât lost all the progress, it wouldâve came out yesterday night. So unfortunately, youâre stuck with the shittier version of this post as I continue to ride off the waves of anger that I still feel boiling inside of me. Rewriting this post made me almost crash out at 12:35 in the morning.
#billy batson#shazam#dc captain marvel#captain marvel dc#fawcett city#fawcett#fawcett comics#tim drake as robin#tim drake#dc robin#robin dc
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Ok, it was basically a request where the batboys brought their significant other as their date to a gala for the first time, they leave for a second (to get drinks or go to the bathroom or something to that end) and when they come back the see their S/O being harassed by a group of socialite women that keep talking about how they canât believe someone like the batboy is with such a plain little nobody. That was the gist of it. Sorry đŁ
I kinda made Timâs as bit different than requested, but I couldnât help but see him grill an entire household and their business ventures. Then again I kinda took creative liberties with all of them.
Dick
Is the type to put on an extremely strained smile across his face as he puts his arm over your shoulders.
âWhatâs wrong my love, why the saddened face?â He asks you sweetly, intentionally ignoring the rich and powerful in front of you both.
âOh donât worry yourself withâŚthat thing dear Richard, theyâre too emotional to be in a room with people they could only dream of being in the presence of. I wouldnât get so close to it if I were you, you might catch their filth.â One of them sneered and Dickâs jaw tensed in agitation as his eyes remained on you.
âDo you wanna leave?â He says in a whisper as he wipes a tear away from your cheek, lightly pinching it in hopes of seeing you smile at him.
âYes please, I want to go home and be with Hayley.â You whispered back, griping his arms tightly, thankful that his body blocked out the rich people that were berating you. Dickâs face softened as he kissed the top of your head, hoping of giving you some form of comfort in your time of distress, before looking back at the rich people with a faux grin.
âIf you please excuse us, my lovely sweetheart, my beloved cutie and my forever lover wishes to leave this drab place and who am I to deny my love of her wishes, for I shall wait on them hand and for forever if it pleases them so because between you and me?â He then leans close to them. âYou donât have the heart to sacrifice everything for the one you love, if you even have hearts in the first place. You posses no freedom and no personality whatsoever for anyone to love nor adore, them however?â He points towards you as you look at him with a small smile, a smile so sweet that Dick couldnât help but smile back.
âThey are my everything. I couldnât think about living without them, not when theyâve donât nothing but be kind and respectful of me and my time. I donât deserve them but neither does this city, theyâre an angel in human skin that I wish to worship as long as theyâll let me.â You could feel your cheeks burn at his words as your smiles widened at the twinkle of love within his gorgeous eyes. Dick had a way with words unlike any other and despite being on the receiving end of them for a while now, you still find yourself becoming alight with emotions because of him.
âSo if youâll excuse me kindly.â Dick says as he takes your hand and walks you both out of the door where he stops to look at you with concern.
âI am so sorry you had to deal with them, apparently money makes someone feel entitled to speaking on someone elseâs relationship.â Dick spat as he glared at the grand double doors and you touched his cheek, making him melt into your touch, kissing your palm.
âItâs okay Dickie bird, letâs just forget this night and go home, get out of these clothes and into some comfy pyjamas and cuddle on the couch as we watch soaps.â You say as you attempt to calm him down from his passionate outburst and declaration of love, which seems to work as Dickâs eyes twinkled with excitement.
âCan we wear the matching pyjamas that I got us and Hayley?â He asks and you couldnât help but kiss his lip, finding him too adorable in this moment in time, which is something of a occurrence as youâd soon find as you reflect back on your relationship. âOf course my sweetie, of course we can wear matching pyjamas.â You replied and Dick cheered as he leaned to kiss you fully on the lip, his happiness having been contagious as you smiled into the kiss.
Damian
Wishes Bruce didnât confiscate the sword from him.
Heâs the type who can silence anyone with a single fucking glare. So when he sees that you, his beloved, was being harassed by the elitist snobs.
Heâs quick to step in and start berating them himself, all dignity and respect has gone out the window for these cretins donât deserve an ounce of it as far as he was aware. âI donât believe that my relationships are your concern,â he begins, âyouâre not kin and thus shouldâve learned at an early age that not every topic of interest requires your out of touch input.â
âWha-â they tried to say but Damian was back on them with another verbal assault.
âAlso I could hear you from across the room, didnât your parents or paid teacher teach you about volume control? or did they get paid extra to not say a thing in fear your fragile little ego gets crushed under the harsh truth?â Damian then spits out as he feels you clinging onto his back, which only fuels his need to berate these vile people as karma.
Damian would be their karma if it was the last thing he did.
The rich people chocked on air, not knowing what to say as it was hard to do so when Damian was staring them down, wanting them to say something, anything so that he could verbally beat them down until they submit. He lives for a verbal spat but unfortunately the people whom heâs up against have never had to fight for their honour and dignity, they just paid people to shut up or have people who encourage their pathetic, self entitled behaviour.
âEnough, donât hurt yourself trying to think with whateverâs behind those pompous eyes of yours.â Damian sneered as he looks to you with a soft look. âLetâs go my beloved, I have already informed my father of the situation and has Alfred come pick us up to take us back to the manor.â He says softly as he takes your hand in his as you both began walking away form the group of gobsmacked rich folks, a sight to behold truly as those entitled Individuals love nothing more then the sound of their own voice.
âWhyâd you do that?â You asked and Damian looked at you as though you grew a second head.
âDo what? Defend your honour, is that not what a lover is meant to do?â He says with a raised brow and you couldnât help but feel a little silly, of course Damian would defend your honour to the death but still insecurities tend to make you forget his undying loyalty.
âYouâre right Iâm sorry, Iâm just being a little stupid.â You replied as you downcast your eyes to the floor and Damian stopped to lift your head up by your chin as his emerald eyes glint with concern. âDo not heed their words my treasure, for they lack a love that isnât in due to money. Ours is genuine, if thereâs anyone who has to fear for our relationship it is me for I am not the easiest to deal with at times.â Damian admits as he lets go of your chin.
âThatâs not true.â You retorted, holding his cheek in your free hand, caressing his cheek. âYouâre perfect the way you are! A work in progress in being even more beautiful than before and Iâm happy to be by your side and watch you grow into an amazing person dami.â You add as you kiss his cheek, making him smile softly as he rubs against your hand.
âSee, this is what Iâm talking about.â Damian says softly. âYou are perfection, a being beyond words and Iâd be a fool if I didnât treasure you entirely.â
Jason
Thatâs it, youâre leaving.
Jason tried to be civil but itâs hard to be civil with out of touch, tone deaf, Botox having, plastic surgery abusing, elite snobs that couldnât fucking lace their own shoes because their filthy money had that be someone elseâs job.
Heâs not fucking staying and neither are you to deal with verbal abuse by people who single handedly have run Gotham into the ground with their shady tactics, personally funding the corrupt police officers, police officers that dare spout words like âprotect and serveâ as though they know the meaning of the fucking word.
Heâs marching over to you and grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers together as heâs walking you both out of the room, leaving the elites to talk amongst themselves as he guided you outside where thankfully no elite snob can eavesdrop on either of you.
âAre you okay?â He asks you as he holds your face between his hands.
âNo⌠I want to go home.â You admitted, their words cutting deeper than youâd ever think imaginable.
Jason felt anger flowing through his veins but he knew that you needed him more then ever at this moment, so shouting at some elite snobs can wait for another day, you were his highest priority as he brought you into his chest and kissing your head. âThen weâre going home.â He says with certainty.
âWhat about Bruce?â You asked, looking at him with tearful eyes, not wanting their relationship to fracture just as it was slowly starting to mend.
Jason shrugged, uncaring of what the old man would think, you got insulted and he wasnât going to let it slide in the slightest. âFuck Bruce, youâre what matters to me.â Jason says as he kisses your nose, cheeks and lips softly before resting his head against yours. âNow letâs ditch this place and go get ourselves some burgers, how does that sound chipmunk?â
You chuckled. âCan we get some fries too.â
âOf course we can, whatever my sweetheart desires.â Jason replies as he takes your hand again, this time leading you both out of the grand building in a quest to satiate your feelings with the most greasiest of foods.
Tim
Has the most dirt on the elite in my eyes.
Every scandal, every controversy, every crime theyâve committed and gotten away with by covering it up. He has a file as thick as a book on them and heâs not afraid to use it.
And needless to say that the idea to destroy their reputation was more then tempting then ever when he sees that your being harassed. So when he confronts them on their behaviour, he gets really cryptic about how much he actually knows about these people to such an intimate level.
âI know what you did.â Heâd say.
âWhat are you on about?â Theyâd ask, thinking this was all a bit to make them laugh.
âFriday 12th, 12:55am. The incident that cost workers their lives, families whom of which youâve failed to compensate for who are now threatening to take you to court before you dealt with them in hush money. All just so it doesnât leak to the press that you knew what you were dealing with was highly unstable and willingly let those workers in unstable and dangerous working conditions.m Tim watches as their faces drop, preparation visible on their foreheads and he continues on, feeling you squeeze his arm.
âOnly to end up illegally selling the product to unground crime syndicates to make ends meet in due to how much money youâve initially lost.â Tim then says in response, watched as their faces become unsettlingly pale as they excuse themselves while exiting the room.
Heâll say or this or just say âthey are after what theyâre owed.â And leave it at that.
Once heâs satisfied that heâs silenced them and damaged their egos, he looks to you with concerned eyes. âAre you okay lovely?â He asks you as he sees just how small youâve made yourself because of them.
âIâm fine Tim thanks to you.â You said as you hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek as he pats your back before rubbing it soothingly. â I thought they wouldnât shut up, or follow me whether I went just to degrade me for walking or whether else they could degrade me for.â You add as you burrowed your head into his neck, wanting to forget this had ever happened.
âAll you need to remember is that theyâre more flawed and easier to expose, you however,â Tim kisses your temple, tightening his hold, âare more then they could ever comprehend and have more heart and soul then they do and I couldnât be prouder to be your partner. Thank you for choosing me.â He finished.
âIâd choose you every time Tim.â You replied.
âThen expect me to do the same bedside thereâs no one else Iâd rather have them you.â Tim promised as you stayed in this embrace for a good while before deciding to leave and watch your favourite show on his laptop for comfort.
#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc x you#dc comics x reader#dc fanfic#dc fic#dc x y/n#dc fanfiction#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd fluff#jason todd imagines#jason todd x y/n#dick grayson x you#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson imagines#dick grayson x reader#damian wayne x you#damian wayne imagine#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne imagines#tim drake x you#tim drake imagines#tim drake x reader#tim drake imagine
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What Kind of Rizz Boku No Hero Academia Guys Have
Pairing: Izuku Midoriya, Bakugo Katsuki, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima, Tenya Iida, Keigo Takami, Toya Todoroki x Fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, wholesome, flirting, being flustered, kissing, blushing, love confession, holding hands, love letters
Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters
A/N: This started as a joke but I really liked it.
IZUKU
Has no intentional rizz. What he does have is completely by accident, so much so that he doesn't even notice it himself and neither do you for the longest time. Any rizz he may have is fumbled by his aggressive blushing and stuttering when you flirt with him and expect him to do the same. Even if he has no rizz he's cute, he's compassionate, he's hard-working, and for you he is indeed boyfriend material.
BAKUGO
Extremely aggressive rizz on his part. There's no way he won't flirt with you any chance he gets, pulling you by the wrist and kissing your cheek in the middle of the hallway. Anyone who would even try to make fun of him for it would get an earful of arguments and insults hurled at them and perhaps more of he feels really pissed off. You're his girlfriend and he will flirt with you no matter who is watching, he won't back down from it.
SHOTO
Feels too drawn back to have rizz but that actually works in his favor. He doesn't say much to you unless he really likes you, otherwise he keeps it to subtle and short handholding sessions. A lot of what he will do, how he will flirt, depends on the weather, if it's cold he offers to warm you up, if it's hot he offers to cool you down, he uses his powers to make you more comfortable. If you don't want to cuddle he won't force you of course, but it is one of his strongest rizz moves.
EIJIRO
Really hopes he has enough rizz to confess to you and have you become his girlfriend. When he tries to confess he often gets his words stuck in his throat and ends up saying something silly instead. He does a lot to try to impress you with his physical feats when his words fail him, he tries to do really well in sports or in any Quirk demonstrations. Finally he works up the courage to tell you how he feels but in the process of it his Quirk activates.
TENYA
Absolutely no rizz to be found in his entire body. This isn't because he's not trying hard to have rizz, to flirt, to get you to be the flustered one in the relationship but it has very little success because you know him too well. One kiss will render him powerless at your feet, a complete puddle on the floor and he really wants to counter it. Unfortunately he can't find the words but he does manage to slip a love letter into your locker and run before you can open it.
KEIGO
Probably has one of the highest amounts of rizz among the heroes. Some of it is intentional, some of it isn't, he's really not trying to flirt with you or anyone. However that is what happens when you're one of the most famous, and in your opinion, handsome heroes in the whole world. He doesn't shy away from flirting with you in public, in front of cameras and reporters, in fact he will kiss you full on the mouth and have it make the news.
TOYA
Does have rizz, knows he has rizz, and uses that to his advantage to get you on his side when he needs to. Sure, he's the villain, he's the bad guy, the one man you shouldn't be attracted to and yet when he whispers sweet nothings in your ear you want nothing more than to be his. When you do go over to his side he doesn't stop, he pulls you onto his lap during meetings, grins while others groan at the sight. There is no force in the world that can stop his flirting.
#bnha x reader#mha x reader#izuku x reader#bakugo x reader#shoto x reader#eijiro x reader#tenya x reader#keigo x reader#toya x reader#hawks x reader#dabi x reader#bnha imagines#mha imagines#bnha headcanons#mha headcanons#bnha fluff#mha fluff#bnha x you#mha x you#bnha x female reader#mha x female reader#boku no hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia imagine#boku no hero academia fluff#boku no hero academia x you#boku no hero academia x female reader#my hero academia x reader#my hero academia imagine#my hero academia headcanons#my hero academia fluff
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Ok my queue spit this out after I saved it for later, so let me add some nuance here. Because this is a very importand issue, actually.
Of course nobody is prohibited from readin the books they enjoy. Hell, I like me some easily digestible fluff too! Some of my favourite book series are ya (and genuinely great books despite being âeasy to readâ).
There is something to be said however about limiting yourself to only engaging with that level of difficulty in reading. And before you come at me, I know that many people don't read at all and to many others reading is simply a hobby to unwind after a long day, where they just wanna turn their brain off and have some fun. Which is a totally fair reason to read. BUT. Reading (or more broadly, literacy) will never be just that. You live in an age of (mis)information and you WILL be confronted with texts (speeches, video clips, what have you) that are hard to dissect. Especially the ones that don't seem like it at first glance.
Media literacy is not only about how quickly you can summarise a paragraph or being able to pull quotes to show how maybe a character could be read as queer (although both of those things are a very good indicator of having advanced literacy). It's the VITAL skill of filtering and assesing information presented to you before so you can make an informed choice to internalise or discard it. It's being able to understand the information in the first place by grasping a complex thought presented to you in writing or in a speech because the simple truth is that not all truths are simple.
Media literacy gives you the ability of identifying that someone is trying to make you believe something and parsing why they're doing it by identifying the tools they are using. Which means you also need to know the tools they have at their disposal. It also means being able to connect points brought up before in the same or different texts to see if there is inconstencies or leaps in logic or if the argument someone is making only looks good because they use big words and a sentence structure that âfeelsâ smart, but actually falls apart as soon as you poke at it a little.
Forgive me sounding alarmist, but if you can't read at that level people who have these tools WILL have power over you and you won't even have the tools to notice that they do. Even if people are not actively trying to harm or manipulate you, if you're unable to engage with their ideas you will get left behind in certain vital discussions and that not only feels like shit because everybody gets it but you, but it also again makes you incredibly vulnerable to those who do have bad intentions!
Now does that mean you only get to read Proust from now on? Of course not! I still do believe that a piece of literature can directly and fundamentally change your life. I know it has for me. However, that is a personal opinion and it doesn't mean I can force anyone to engage with deep philosophical manifestos on what it isto be human in this world. And even less that I want to do that, despite me thinking that literally ANYONE could benefit from reading that kind of thing. But you NEED to be able to read complex texts outside of your comfort zone for honest to god survival. I am so fucking serious.
And, hey! The good news is that this is not some secret mystical power you either get blessed with or not. It is a skill you can train, by reading challenging material. Books with more complex sentence structures, more nuanced ideas or arguments. Books that force you to think about them. I hate to say it but the only way to get better at reading is to read. It doesn't have to be fiction but i will be very real with you, I doubt that - if you're putting down a book because it's unreadable to you based on the chosen perspective - you'll be the type to pick up scientific essays or anything like that.
Don't cut yourself off from vital skills by locking your mind in a box. You are capable to handle those more complex texts, and I'd wager you'll even enjoy it once you find your niche (yes! you still get to have preferences!). You just need to give yourself a chance to learn.
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i do have to say that i like elgar'nan and ghilan'nain as our primary villains. because they look like cartoon bad guys on the surface but if you look a little deeper and find all those hidden little notes and codex entries, it's obvious they actually do have complexity that they don't want us to see.
ghilan'nain is actively in mourning. not just for andruil, but also for her fucked up little experiment of an archdemon, her most perfect creation, razikale. at the end of fire and ice, she is ready to throw herself into a fight that she might not win because she's blinded by her own grief, and she only doesn't because elgar'nan holds her hand and pulls her away. protects her. we can find notes that talk about how elgar'nan is concerned that she's not taking time to mourn properly. we know she's checked in on her first creations, the halla, despite the fact that she writes about them in this sort of detached, almost patronizing way. she calls them something she made when she was "untraveled and naive" and that she could never make them again, but she visited them just to see what they might have become in her absence. like she cares more than she wants to let herself.
and elgar'nan calls her sister, despite the fact that ghilan'nain is the youngest of them. he lets her experiment on lusacan for the express purpose of cheering her up. and when she dies he seems legitimately torn apart by it. what should be an opportunity for the first of the firstborn to finally become the sole tyrant he was practically made to be is instead him becoming completely and utterly alone, the only remaining of his kind. i don't think it's coincidence that both he and solas drift to each other as they do, even if it is as enemies. they're too alike, and they're also the only remnants of the old world, their world, that either of them have.
i can't say that i'm particularly sympathetic to either of themâthey're both unrepentant monsters who have committed atrocities across millenia, but the fact that they have this hidden depth reminds me that at of the day they are not really anything that no one else is. they are very powerful mages that other people called gods. and people can be very sentimental, indeed.
#word count: 399#this also ties into thoughts i have about solas as an evanuris#but this is about elgar'nan and ghilan'nain and i dont want to derail so i WONT#elgar'nan#ghilan'nain#dav#dav spoilers#dragon age#dragon age spoilers#veilguard#veilguard spoilers#da meta#my meta#mine
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As a long time httyd fan who has been heavily involved in the fandom since the first movie and who has spent years working in the animation industry, Iâd like to share my thoughts on the new httyd movie. Keep in mind, this is just my personal opinion and it's completely fine if you disagree with me. I just want to say a little something about all this that really bothers me.
The core reason that Dreamworks and Universal made this film is that itâs a quick and easy cash grab for them. Thats it. They donât care about telling a good story or making a âbetterâ version of the original movie for fans or even having an accurate portrayal of the characters/story. Itâs purely about money. They know that fans of the original film will go see this movie, whether itâs good or bad. And those guaranteed ticket sales are all that matter to the studios. And with Universal, it has the added bonus of being a cheap promotional and merchandising opportunity for the new HTTYD land in Orlando that opens around the same time that the film is premiering in theaters.
And to help the studios make even more money out of this, they are using non-unionized VFX companies around the world to make this film, so that they can get cheaper labor and push the artists to do more that would be against American union standards. The same thing has probably happened with the costuming and fabrication for the filming, hence why the costumes look un-weathered and the sets look cheap. They donât want to pay for the extra time and effort that it would take to make the practical bits of the production look good.
On top of all this, Dreamworks has already announced that theyâre shutting down all their in-house animation projects in favor of using AI and outsourcing projects to cheaper international non-union studios.
With all this in mind, I just canât support this film and I will not be seeing it in theaters. And I hope that others will do the same.
The only way to stop all these horrible âlive actionâ remakes (which are actually just realistically animated remakes) is to not buy tickets to see them. Money is all that matters to these studios, and if they donât make any money off of it, then they will stop and try something different. Maybe they'll even go back to focusing on original stories!
Thatâs the power that we hold as audiences. Our wallets help drive the decisions that the executives make. So support unique storytelling and gorgeous cinematography in movies. Support indie films. Support animators as they're fighting for fair pay and better contracts. But don't support a mediocre shot-for-shot remake riding on the coattails of an already successful film.
And I just want to wrap all this up by saying I have absolutely no hate towards anyone that has worked on the new film. Toothless looks incredible and I know the artists and creatives involved in this project did the best they could with what they were given.
But I also know that those same artists have so many more brilliant ideas that they wouldâve loved to be given the creative freedom to do. I just wish hollywood would be willing to take a chance and let them do it.
#they could've made a film following the plot of the httyd books or even a different pov of what happened in Berk from a vikings view#those would've been much better options if they really wanted to utilize this IP in a live action or realistic animation format#but they chose the cheap option of literally copying an already successful film and throwing actors in there to say its new and different#this whole thing bugs me so much#i hope you guys will excuse this rant but I hate what hollywood has become and I hate that creatives are forced to make this junk for them#all while fearing for their jobs because of rampant layoffs#please help put an end to hollywood abusing creatives in the way that they are and don't watch this movie#httyd#how to train your dragon#hiccup#toothless#movie#live action#dragon#astrid#stormfly#cosplay#art#artists on tumblr
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tear you apart
ă mob boss! p.sh x fem. ballerina! reader
ă wc: 3.3k
ă plot: a powerful mob boss becomes dangerously distracted by a captivating ballerina, leading him to abandon an important business deal because of his new obsession. Determined to regain his focus, he confronts her one night after a show, only to find himself even deeper entangled in his desireâand a conflict that could jeopardize everything.
ă content: swan lake ballet, ballerina!reader, mob boss! seonghwa, dom! seonghwa, gloved finger-fucking?? eventual smut
đ§ tear you apart- she wants revenge, sour switchblade- elita, into the woods- bragolin
It was now the final act of the show. Rothbart was defeated, his dark powers broken, and the swan maidens were free at last. In the soft glow of the stage, you and Siegfried danced together, your movements light and delicate, like drifting feathers. Each step felt weightless as you floated through the scene, surrounded by the gentle swell of the orchestra and the dreamy, pearlescent backdrop that bathed everything in a soft, otherworldly light. This was the most serene moment of the entire performanceâyet your heart raced wildly in your chest.
Throughout the entire show, a sense of unease gripped you, following your every movement on stage. No matter where you turned or what role you played, you felt his eyes on you, that same piercing, unrelenting gaze that had been following you all season.Â
Park Seonghwa always sat in the same seat, just a little off-center in the orchestra, ensuring he had the best view of you. Like clockwork, he was here every Saturday night, with his hair slicked back with precision, dressed in a long, black coat that skimmed the floor, and his leather-gloved hands resting motionless on his knees. His eyes followed you all over the stage, studying your every move, every tweak of your brow, his plump lips parted in fascination. His unblinking, stone-cold expression sent shivers down your spine, and yet, you couldnât deny the intrigue it sparked in you. His observance of you, so focused and ceaseless, made you feel powerfulâseen. As if, in his eyes, you were the only ballerina on that stage, the rest of the world fading into irrelevance. You almost looked forward to seeing him in the audience every night, that is, until some whisperings from the other ballerinas during dress rehearsal rattled you.Â
"A mobster? Really? I thought those only existed in Scorsese movies," one ballerina laughed softly, her eyes darting nervously to the corner where he sometimes lingered after performances.
"It's true!" another whispered eagerly. "He's part of the Park crime family. Remember when they started cracking down on drug trafficking? Then they suddenly dropped all charges. I heard he paid off half the force. And nowâwell, I hear heâs eyeing the theater as a front for money laundering."
There was more truth to their rumors than they realized. After his fatherâs sudden departure, Seonghwa had inherited the mantle, becoming the head of the Park family businessâa role heâd taken on with cold, unerring resolve. He was trusted to be the new, pragmatic decision-maker, one who wold keep the family business running smoothly. Everything had been going according to plan, right down to choosing an old, run-down theater on the outskirts of town as his next investment.Â
It was a simple acquisition, one that should have been handled quickly. But one evening, he found himself sitting in the darkened theater, watching intently as you stepped onto the stage in your pearly white tutu, your sculpted legs covered in thick stockings, twirling on your experienced tippy toes, forcing him to wonder how you can move so gracefully while doing something that seemed so painful.Â
Seonghwa never thought much of performance art; it simply wasnât his world. His world was dark, brutal, and unforgiving. But from the first graceful movement, and the beautiful melody from the live orchestra, he was captivated with the world of the Swan Lake. You moved with such elegance and emotion that he couldnât look away, each gesture leaving him more entranced than the last. From that night on, he returned every evening you performed, ignoring his obligations just to see you dance. He became infatuated with the beauty and artistry he hadnât known could exist.Â
The original plan was simple: aquire the theater, reshape it into something profitable, and then use the profits to conceal earnings. But now, the thought of disrupting your world was unbearable. Reluctantly, he abandoned the deal, his priorities now twisted by an enchantment he resented.Â
From that very first performance, you unknowingly unraveled the careful fabric of his plans. Seonghwa found himself slipping away from his duties week after week, drawn back to that same old theater. His associates began to worry, questioning his judgement, but he couldnât help it. He told himself it was just a curiosity or distractionâanything but the truth. You had enchanted him, woven yourself into his thoughts so deeply that he couldnât bring himself to go through with the acquisition. Every time he saw you, he was reminded of what he stood to lose.
His associates were quick to notice his shift, whispering about his lack of judgment and uncharacteristic indecision. They urged him to reconsider, to stay groundedâbut he felt himself slipping. Trouble was on the horizon; he could sense it. Part of him loathed you for the hold you had over him, for making him slack off from his responsibilities. Yet, night after night, he was drawn back, helpless against the spell youâd cast, unable to break free, and unwilling to let go.
Seonghwa knew he couldnât keep living like this. His soul was burning hopelessly, and he needed to put out this fire fast.Â
â
It was quiet now, the theater emptying as the final notes of the orchestra still seemed to hang faintly in the air. You slipped into your dressing room, exhausted yet exhilarated, the glow of the performance still warming you as you changed out of your costume. Carefully, you removed your stage makeup, wiping away the traces of the Swan Queen. The transformation always felt strange, trading feathers and grace for the ordinary routine of going home.
You packed your things slowly, placing each item into your bag with a practiced rhythm, already looking forward to the calm of your apartment. But as you reached for your coat, a prickle of unease returned. It was that lingering feeling, the sensation of being watched, that had haunted you all night.
The silence shattered with a sudden, firm knock on the door, catching you off guard. Your heart raced, and before you could even gather yourself to respond, the door creaked open, slow and deliberate. His face appeared in the dim light, and you caught your breath. It was him.
Seonghwa stepped in just enough for his figure to fill the doorway, his familiar dark coat draping around him like a shadow. His expression was unreadable, the same cold, composed look he always wore, yet his eyes held a strange intensity that made you feel hot.
Your heart pounded as he stood there, with his gaze fixed intently on you. You felt a flicker of fearâa quiet, instinctive warning. Everything about him radiated power, a kind of quiet danger that you couldnât ignore. Yet, having him so close to you now felt exhilarating, almost like you were waiting for him to knock on your door.Â
âI hope Iâm not intruding,â He apologized, his sharp features now softening in your presence, hoping to disarm you.Â
âIâm sorry, c-can I help you with something?â
He paced around your small dressing room, his eyes lingering on the little detailsâyour stage makeup scattered across the vanity, the photo frames of other ballerinas lining the walls. Anxiety twisted in your stomach as you watched him, still unsure of why he was here. Then, he turned to you with an unreadable expression, extending his gloved hand. "I just wanted to introduce myself properly," he said, his voice smooth but distant, âPark Seonghwa. Iâm from a private equity firm. I know the owner, Hongjoong.â Shakily, you reached out your hand, the leather of his glove feeling cold and unnatural against your skin. You suppressed a shiver as his grip lingered just a second longer than you expected.
âIâm Y/N.âÂ
"Y/N...Congratulations on being this seasonâs Swan Queen," he continued, his voice low and deliberate. "Youâve done very well. You must be very pleased with yourself."
You managed a quiet thank you, though the words felt strange on your lips, your usual confidence faltering under his watchful gaze. His praise should have flattered you, but instead, it left you feeling oddly exposed, like he saw more than you intended to show.
He released your hand, but the strange, lingering sensation stayed with you, leaving you both captivated and nervous.
Feeling faint, you sat down on your vanity chair. "So, you know Hongjoong?" you asked, searching for some logic behind his sudden presence.
"I do," he replied smoothly, though there was a slight glint in his eye that betrayed him. "Weâve been discussing a potential business venture together."
The truth, however, was a little more complicated. Seonghwa had met Hongjoong only once, barely enough to call him an acquaintance. From the start, Hongjoong hadnât seemed eager to hand over his only asset to a man of Seonghwaâs reputation, especially not when rumors swirled about his intention to repurpose the theater into something as mundane as a car wash to serve as a front for his familyâs business. But Seonghwa knew how to persuade, and when he named his price, Hongjoongâs reluctance began to waver.
That first night, theyâd arranged to negotiate the deal, and Seonghwa had come prepared to secure the theater with his usual finesse. But Hongjoong was running late. Growing tired from standing in the lobby all evening, Seonghwa decided to sit in an empty seat during the show only to rest his feet, but your elegant movements captivated him, and made him forget who he was and why he was there.Â
He stepped closer, closing the distance between you in a way that made the small room feel even smaller. Your breath hitched as his intense gaze softened slightly, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. The air between you felt charged, the warmth of his presence mingling with the lingering cold from his leather gloves.
âBut Iâm not here to talk about that,â He said, towering over you, âI could actually use your help in something.âÂ
There was something odd yet inticing about his request. What could he, a possible mob boss, want from someone like you?
âAnd what might that be?â You asked, your throat suddenly feeling dry.Â
He was so close to you now that you could pick up the warming notes of his cologneâ spices, sandalwood, and a hint of citrus. Youâd seen his face a thousand times before, always shrouded in the dim lighting of the audience, his expression always stoic and muted. But now, with the light catching the sharp angles of his cheekbones and his plush and perfect lips just inches away from you, he was utterly captivating. You couldnât look away.Â
"You see, I have this problem," he said, pacing slowly around you, his voice steady but laced with something unspoken. The air shifted each time he moved, the chill of his absence replaced by an intoxicating warmth as he drew near again.Â
"A problem?" you echoed, your voice a little breathless, trying to focus as his reflection loomed behind you in the mirror.
"Mm." He stopped directly behind you, lowering his head closer to the nape of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "Itâs you," he admitted, his tone dropping into something dangerously intimate.
Your heart skipped a beat. "Me?"
Seonghwa straightened himself, meeting your wide-eyed gaze in the mirror, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smirk. "Youâre making it very hard for me to focus on my job," he said. His words were as smooth as they were direct. "And when a man like me gets distracted⌠it causes complications."
He moved again, standing to your side now, his hand resting lightly on the back of your chair. The closeness was almost unbearable, every nerve in your body hyper-aware of his presence.
"So," he continued, his eyes locking onto yours, "I thought perhaps you could help me resolve this little⌠issue of mine."
Your mind raced to comprehend the suggestion wrapped in his words. The way he looked at you left no room for misinterpretation, his meaning clear without being crass. You felt a sudden pulse between your legs, forcing you to squeeze your thighs tighter.Â
"And how exactly would I⌠help?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Seonghwa tilted his head, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "Youâre a clever woman," he said, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your shoulder with deliberate care. "I think you already know."
â
You sat perched on your dressing table, forced to see yourself reflected in the mirror. There was a nervous flutter in your stomach as Seonghwa loomed behind you, his broad shoulders and low eyes making your breath hitch. You watched as he parted your thighs before eagerly ripping at the center seam of your stocking, revealing your glistening cunt to you both. Before you could react, he brought down his gloved hand, tapping on your pulsing clit a few times before pressing down in slow and small circles.Â
The coldness of the leather made you gasp, your heartbeat spiraling in excitement. You could see your slick coating his fingers, bringing a faint shine to his black gloves.Â
âSuch a fat little pussy,â he breathed into your neck, the sudden warmth making a few hairs stand at your nape. He lightly slapped your cunt again, his mouth watering at your chubby, wet folds. âDidnât think such a sweet little ballerina had something like this between her legs.âÂ
You couldnât help but feel vulnerable as you took in your reflection, hardly recognizing the scantily clad woman before you. You pressed your eyes shut as he continued pulling a string of shaky, breathless moans from your lips.
âLetâs see how well this little pussy can take me, hm?â He challenged, refusing to wait for your response before inserting a leathered digit into your wet walls. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, struggling to wrap around the thickness of his glove. Seonghwa chuckled at your tightness.
âPlease,â You begged, tightly holding onto his working arm. But the desperation in your voice only egged him on. He thrust in a merciless rhythm, the squelching sounds from your arousal sending blood down to his groin.Â
âPlease what dear? You want more?â Seonghwa grinned devilishly before stuffing in another finger, the sudden stretch sending a mix of pain and pleasure to your core. He worked you open at a brutal pace, soaking in your sweet moans as you gripped onto him tighter.Â
You were slowly coming undone, your knees quivering and threatening to cave in. You felt his hand grip onto your inner thigh, holding you open as much as possible for him. It was then that you fluttered your eyes open, only to find his gaze already locked onto yours in the mirror. You felt a twist in your stomach like heâd caught you doing something you shouldnât be doing. You quickly realized that Seonghwa had been watching you in the mirror, his gaze unwavering as he took in every tear tracing your scorned red cheek, the delicate furrow of your brow, and the way your plush, pouty lips let out the softest, most beautiful whines heâd ever heard. Just as enchanting as your expressions were on stage, they were even more alluring here as he ravished you at his will.Â
His fingers were so much deeper now, hitting you in all the right places, until the tension inside of you snapped and you finally let go all over his gloved fingers. âFuck, fuck, fuck!â You sputtered, watching your wetness drip down his gloves. Exhaustion suddenly took over you, forcing your head to fall against his chest.Â
âI hope you donât think weâre finished here,â He whispered, his soft, full lips feathering over your ear lobe, âThereâs still a lot of things I need you to do.â
â
You were sprawled out over the table now, your top completely discarded, leaving you in just your ripped stockings. Seonghwa liked the stockings you wore on stage. They were so pearly and smooth, and he almost felt bad for ruining them this way. He leaned down and peppered a trail of kisses under your ear, down to your collarbone, lingering over your hardened peaks briefly, before continuing down to your pelvis.Â
You felt a wave of heat spread over you as he kissed around the outside of your cunt before spreading your lips with his fingers, reuniting you with the coldness of the leather. He dragged his long, warm tongue over your hot slit, groaning once your essence reached his tastebuds.Â
âYou taste just as sweet as you look,â He praised, before wrapping his lips over your swollen clit. He sucked and pulled, swallowing every bit of juice you offered him hungrily.Â
Your back arched in bliss, your hips rolling as he gleefully lapped away at your cunt. He pressed his strong hands down your inner thighs to keep you still, your puffy pussy now spread completely open for him to devour. He savored every drop of you, like a predator that spent weeks catching its prey.
Seonghwa told himself heâd finally be rid of this infatuation after tonight and return to his duties with no more distractions, but how could he now after seeing you like this? With your body so willing, the sheer afterglow hitting your face and collarbones, the uneasy rise of your chest, and those lustful, messy moans? It all enticed him even further, and he worried heâd never be able to stay away.Â
Seonghwa was at his peak now, and he couldnât hold out any longer. He quickly sprang up at his feet, the sounds of his belt unbuckling making your core throb with anticipation. His angry, red tip pressed against your slit, making you gasp at how hot and hard he felt.Â
Seonghwa pushed himself in slowly, inch by inch until his shaft was completely sucked in by you. He cursed at your tightness and moved his hips slowly, allowing you to adjust to his girth.
âFuck!â You cried out, curling your toes as he plunged deeper into you. He fucked you hard and rough, determined to take all his anger and frustrations out on you so that he could return to his stoic self. He hated you for throwing him off his game, and he still held onto that hope that heâd finally let go of all his pent up emotions once he finishes fucking your brains out. He just needed to get it out of his system.
You winced at his tight grasp on your hips. His pace was brutal, the sounds of your dressing table rocking against the wall overpowering your desperate screams, yet you refused to open your eyes. You didnât want to see his face while he thrusted into you with an unspoken vendetta. His gaze alone made you feel even more hot and frazzled.Â
Suddenly, you felt his hand creep to the back of your head, pulling your head up by a fistful of strands. You took in a sharp breath, the pain of your pulled hair forcing you to open your eyes at last.
âLook at how good you fucking take me,â He grunted, pushing your head down farther to help you get a good look at his cock stretching out your swollen cunt. â âTake me just like a good girl.âÂ
Your face grew hot as you watched yourself take him in, eyes bulging at his thick cock that was decorated with pulsing veins and twitched inside of you so deliciously. So drunk off his cock, you found yourself rambling nonsense as he fucked you into oblivion. âYes, yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me so good!â
You felt you both were melting into each other, your breathing growing erratic and unsteady until you finally lost your composure.
Seonghwa pulled out of you, spilling himself over your wet cunt as he sucked in a breath, making sure to milk out every last drop of his seed. You couldnât help but watch as he spread his thick, white cum over your swollen pussy lips, your body twitching from the sensitivity.Â
When you looked up at him, you found his face flushed as red as yours, his mouth slightly agape, with an expression that caught you off guard. The moody, confident alpha male who had entered your room now seemed unsteady, his composure cracked, leaving him looking utterly broken and confused.
He leaned down, his breath mingling with yours for a fleeting moment before his lips finally pressed against yours. The kiss was seamless, as though the two of you had been meant to move together in this way all along. The warmth of his touch ignited something between you, a spark that quickly became a flame, and a flame that would soon become a raging fire that could never be put out.
Seonghwa's desire for you only intensified in that moment. Whatever his plans had been before tonight, they now felt irrelevant, tangled up in the web of feelings he could no longer suppress. He didnât know what this meant for his current predicamentâhow this would complicate everythingâbut one thing was certain: he wouldnât be letting you go anytime soon. Heâs marked his destiny by letting himself be engulfed in the flames.
a/n: hi! long time no see. it's been very difficult to write these days. I feel like I lost parts of my brain and it's difficult to execute an idea on a word doc. but this comeback definitely got me inspired! thanks for reading and see you next year, probably :)
#ateez smut#ateez fanfic#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa smut#seonghwa scenarios#park seonghwa smut#park seonghwa#park seonghwa x reader
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"You humans confuse me. You try so very hard to be as boring as everyone else, and, when some gifted soul is born that has some small degree of uniqueness to it, you beat and break it until it fits into a dull little box that you can understand. Explain this to me, if you please."
The glowing figure across the table illuminated the void gently. It's clear the abyss and the furniture weren't actually here, but the tantalizing way their shadows and the darkness intermingled was almost spellbinding, distracting enough to almost lose the train of thought about how to explain.
âI donât think any mortal being has found a way to live up to their ideals, but thatâs just distracting from the point isnât it? I could give you what we know about biology and instinct and evolution, but that doesnât really do more than give points of information, not an explanation.âÂ
The figure remains silent, perhaps knowing that the thought isnât complete and thereâs more for you to say. Itâs easy when you have all the time in the world possibly.
âI think if you asked a hundred different humans why itâs this way youâd get a thousand different answers, so all I can really offer is my explanation. And the truth I see is this, humans are built scared. We spend all our lives being scared of mistakes, of being left behind, of being alone. Part of that is biological, but I think itâs more the hardness and greed that has been taught from generation to generation, line to line. It might be that weâll never be rid of it, and it might be that being rid of it simply opens us up to being devastated, but that fear is taught in every interaction, every time a scarce resource needs to be distributed and itâs up to people to decide who is more like me, ie who deserves it.â
With no frame of reference itâs simple to lump humanity together, isnât it?
âThe truth is that everyone deserves it, no one deserves it, no one deserves anything. And even still we are forced to make these value judgments because lives hang in the balance and tribes fulfill so many needs that we cannot give them up. Even if we wanted to, which I guarantee you most do not. So we mold ourselves, we mold each other to fit into the box that is the most like our tribe, from the left eating itâs own to the right threatening anyone too different. We focus on our differences because that makes each of us special and unique, but also terrifying and terrified.â
The table is getting fuzzier, almost like itâs struggling to maintain some form. The aura emanating from the creature opposite might be getting brighter, or it might not; it's hard to tell. It does speak after a moment of silence, âFear is a powerful motivator, and perhaps itâs only when you can move past that fear that there will be no need for that box.â
âPerhaps. Or perhaps when we move past the need to understand something to not fear it, there wonât be any more boxes at all.â
âYou humans confuse me. You try so very hard to be as boring as everybody else, and, when some gifted soul is born that has some small degree of uniqueness to it, you beat and break it until it fits into a dull little box that you can understand. Explain this to me, if you please.â
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Pls ramble about Maplestar i didn't think much of him at all when he was around
:3
okay so imagine. You are born into Fallenclan as a fresh little kitten. You are told at a very young age that your mom isn't around anymore, but your dad loves you and your two siblings more than anything, and he will do everything in his power to make sure you all are happy and successful. Your siblings are louder than you, more outgoing than you, and arguably more likeable than you, but they look to you as the cat to follow when your dad isnt around, so it's your job to look after them. You're the oldest, after all.
Later into your kithood you are told that your mother died giving birth to the three of you. If you didnt exist, she would still be alive.
You become an apprentice. Your sister is mentored by the cool older cat that is also your friend's mom. Your brother is mentored by one of your dad's best friends, a cat you've known since birth. You are apprenticed to the deputy of Fallenclan--she cares about you, and the clan, but she's also strict, and tells you in no uncertain terms that she expects you to be great. Not good. Great. You think, "If I am not great, is it my fault?" You try your best. You wonder if it is enough.
You become a warrior. Your sister takes on a mate, your brother does, too. Both of them have kits. You never were interested in having a mate, but you can't help but wonder if that's what your clan, your father, wants you to do. Your father, in the meanwhile, takes over the job that your mentor had, and becomes deputy of Fallenclan. Then he becomes leader. He becomes legend. Cats at gatherings say to you, "You must be so proud!" You are. When your back is turned, they say "The son of Goldenstar, he'll be something special, I'm sure."
The deputy, a cat known for her strength, loyalty, and honor, retires, and chooses you out of everyone to take her place. Your father assures you that you'll do great. Your siblings cheer you on and offer their support. You refuse it, politely. You will be a great deputy if you have to pull out all of your fur to do it--and you will do it by yourself. Are you really great if some of your greatness is borrowed? The whole clan depends on you.
Under the cover of night, the clan is attacked. The former deputy dies. One of your best friends dies. Your brother dies. Four kits, six warriors, and one elder die. You are hardly wounded. For moons you keep the night guard and torture yourself thinking about what you could have done to change things. What you could have done better.
Time passes. You age, your sister ages, your father ages. As leader, he has nine lives, but they slowly dwindle. One evening, he's missing from camp longer than he said he would be, and you and your sister go looking for him. You find his body at the bottom of a cliff. You grieve until sundown, and then you travel to receive your nine lives. You see the faces of all the cats you outlived. All the cats you failed. Your niece and great-nephew, your brother, your mentor, your father, your mother. You wake up and it is only you and your medicine cat huddled together in a cave. Your skin hurts, you can feel each fur on your body. You walk home.
You discover that your former apprentice is a murderer. With no other options, you exile him from the clan and watch as he is escorted away. If you had been a better mentor, would he have lived a kinder life? Would he have forgiven his long-time enemy? You'll never find out.
A neighboring clan, which has had it out for Fallenclan since your father was an apprentice, declares war. You run yourself ragged making plans and trying to keep your warriors safe and alive. There are battles, there are scars, but there are no deaths, and the war ends only a few moons later. You congratulate yourself for this feat, and then wonder why it was only when you became leader that war was declared.
Every death that passes, you wonder if you could have prevented it. Every loss that your sister suffers, your nephews and nieces suffer, you contemplate how to fix. You are old now, and there are few Fallenclan cats that knew you before you were an apprentice, before you were a warrior, before you were deputy or leader. You're not a cat, anymore, you are a shelter; protecting your clan and paying little mind to your own needs.
You take a hunting patrol by yourself, late one night. In a dry riverbed, you feel the ground rumble, and look upstream to see a flash flood clawing its way towards you.
You wonder, "Am I fast enough to outrun it?"
You aren't.
#RRGHHHH. RRAHGHHHH. MAPLESTAR. RHRHHGHGHH. CHEWING.#fallenasks#fallenfic#< id say this kind of counts#everyone use all your brainpower to think about maplestar#hope all this makes sense. it does in my sick little brain
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So Ive had this prompt stuck in my head, dunno if you've done it before, but:
Billy unexpectedly powers down due to a villain's weapon. But instead of being, well, scruffy little billy, he ends up looking like a greek child with the toga (?) and all. What would the JL reaction be?
This whole incident started half a year ago with the divine beings in his head arguing about something. Arguing was a surprisingly common occurrence despite the fact that most of these guys were over thousands of years old. He tended to normally tune them out whenever this was happening.
Achilles: âBILLY!â
Marvel: *startles* âYes, Achilles?â
Achilles: âChiton or toga?â
Marvel: âHuh?
Mercury: âChiton or toga? Weâre making you a gift. Arenât we like so kind?â
Marvel: âA giftâŚ?â *sounds weary* âI donât like the sound of that. What are you planning?â
Zeus: âNothing!â
Marvel: âSolomon?â
Solomon: âIt really is nothing. This will actually aid you in case of any accidents while in field.â
Marvel: âOkay thenâŚâ
Hercules: âNOW PICK!â
Marvel: âAlright, alright, dang. Uh⌠Whatâs a chiton?â
Zeus: âWhatâs a- Whatâs a chiton? Iâve never felt such a shame for one of my children before.â
Marvel: âIâm not your kid, but okay.â
Solomon: âBilly, a chiton is a tunic that was worn traditionally by the Greeks.â
Marvel: âOooh. Uh⌠okay then I pick that one.â
Zeus: âHa ha, suck it Atlas!â
Atlas: âI also wanted him to pick the ChitonâŚ?â
Zeus: âI know. I just donât like you. I thought that was obvious by now.â
Billy didnât know that Robin was like five feet away and watching this entire interaction go down. To Damian, this grown ass man was just having a full conversation with himself, oblivious to the world. He reported this behavior to his father later.
Batman: âThatâs normal.â
Robin!Damian: âPardon?â
Batman: âThatâs normal for Marvel. Think nothing of it.â
Anyways, fast forward six months. Billy forgot about the gift thing the Gods were talking about. Mostly because they hadnât even given him the gift. Then the time came when Billy was forced to be detransformed. All because of a stupid villainâs machine going haywire. Sivana could do better. So now, Billy was standing in front of the JL who had surrounded him in a half circle.
(Ancient Greek is in italics)
Billy: âUh⌠Hello?â *doesnât even realize heâs decked out in the Ancient Greek drip, complete with the chiton from earlier*
JL: *staring in befuddlement*
Supes: âHeâs been de-aged?â
WW: *steps forward* âBrother?â
Mercury: âOkay, Billy, stare at her for like three seconds and then be like youâre Zeusâs kin?â
Billy: *doesnât even know why heâs doing this but does the three second stare* âYouâre Zeusâ kin?â
Mercury: âYouâre my favorite champion now.â
WW: âI am. I am Diana Prince. Itâs a pleasure to meet you. What is your name?â
Solomon: âThavma is a nice choice.â
Zeus: âSo is Keraunos. Which is arguably better because it means lightning.â
Billy: âThavma, or Keraunos. Either is fine.â
Flash: *whispering to Batman* âSpooky, whatâre they saying?â
Batman: âI donât know. Iâm versed in Greek, not Ancient Greek. I can just barely make out an eighth of the words theyâre saying.â
Soon after all of this, he was taken to the Watchtower. The JL dropped him off in a rec room and assigned Robin to watch him so the team could go to a meeting room to discuss the whole ordeal.
Robin!Damian: *looking him up and down*
Billy: *can feel the judgment through Robinâs mask* âWhat is it?â
Robin!Damian: âWhat?â
Billy: âI said what is it?â
Robin!Damian: âTt. A language barrier.â
Billy: *frog blinks* âLanguage barrierâŚ?â
Solomon: âIâll just turn off the Ancient Greek for you.â
Billy: *clears his throat* âCan you understand me now?â *slight Greek accent still there*
Robin!Damian: âMore clearly. Yes.â
Billy: âCool, now what is it?â
Robin!Damian: âPardon?â
Billy: âWhat is it? I can tell youâre staring at me judgmentally through that thing on your face.â
Robin!Damian: *visibly bristles* âI am not.â
Billy: âYes, you are.â
Robin!Damian: âI am not.â
Billy: âYou are.â
Robin!Damian: âAm not.â
Billy: âYuh huh.â
Robin!Damian: âNuh uh-â *realizes he let that leave his mouth* âWhy are you acting like a child?
Billy: âI am a child.â
Robin!Damian: *stares at him for a couple moments* âThe reason I am staring at you judgmentally, is that I had previously assumed you had been born an adult.â
Billy: âWho told you that?â
Robin!Damian: âNightwing.â
Billy: *remembers heâs not supposed to know who that is* âWho?â
Robin!Damian: âHeâs someone youâll meet when youâre an adult.â
Billy: âOkayâŚ?â
*silence*
Somehow, the two ended up crawling in the vents together. You couldnât even ask Billy how it happened.
Robin!Damian: âCrawl faster.â
Billy: âIâm trying.â
They spent a while up there, crawling around, eavesdropping, stopping every now and then in the kitchen for snacks.
Robin!Damian: âThis is chocolate.â *hands him a chocolate bar*
Billy: *eyes literally shining as he looks at the bar because he rarely gets to have chocolate*
Robin!Damian: âYou open it like so.â *opens his own bar* âNow come. We must continue on the move. Back to the vents.â
This went on until the JL started to look for them.
Flash: *searching the rec room frantically because they shouldâve been here*
Robin!Damian and Billy: *descend from the vents*
Robin!Damian: âWhat do you need speedster?â
Flash: *screams*
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