#but I can't say 'I am doing such and such thing at such and such time'

[hairmetal666]

Steve has done interviews before. Like, a lot of interviews. YouTube, podcasts, print, TV stuff. Not as a brag, or anything, just. He's been an influencer for a long time, for better or worse, and it's part of the deal.

Usually, he's comfortable in front of the camera. Usually, he's poised and well-spoken. But today, this time, sweat pools under his arms and beads along his hairline, the lights beating down on him in a harsh glare.

"Steve Harrington," Murray Bauman crosses his legs, smiles big for the cameras. "It's been a while."

He smiles too, tries to seem like he's not about to have a panic attack. "I've been a little busy."

Murray laughs and it's then that Steve understands how screwed he really is. Murray's show, it's all glitz and glamour on the surface; mixed drinks and hijinks until the celebrity guests lose their inhibitions, admitting things they probably wanted to keep secret.

It's just that, before, Steve didn't have any salacious rumors to worry about, and now--

"You've had a rough year, Steve, yeah?"

"Not my best, for sure." He leans back, tries to seem calm, unbothered.

"I was sorry to hear about your divorce. I think that announcement really took a lot of people by surprise."

His hands clench, but he manages not to shift or bounce his leg. "Thanks for, uh. Yeah. We were also sorry it didn't work out."

Murray nods, face full of sympathy. "You and Nancy, you'd been together since high school? That's almost--what? 15 years?"

"It's--" he clears his throat. "About that long." Steve takes a sip of the drink next to him, an apple martini that's both too sweet and too strong.

"Am I right to assume that you didn't see it coming?"

And isn't that a question? Sure, now in hindsight, he can see the fractures that lead to the end, but six months ago did he--it's all so--what if all along--

"All marriages have rough patches," is what he says. "We just couldn't come out of ours as a couple."

"Do you know what I've found really remarkable about this phase of your life? The content and tone of your videos in the midst of the maelstrom of rumors and gossip didn't change at all. 'Your kids' as you call them, are still as bright and vibrant as ever. You're laughing, dancing, cooking, having a great time."

"I needed that--that normalcy you know? And the kids, they're such an important part of my life, having them around helped."

"Including Nancy's brother, Mike?"

Steve laughs and it's not fake. "Totally including Mike. My relationship with Nancy has nothing to do with my relationship with him."

"He's kind of an antagonist--would you say?--in your videos, though."

"We have conflict sometimes, but it's never serious. We know how to play it up for laughs."

"So, nothing's changed between you?"

"Not at all."

"The cheating rumors." Murray's smile is soft, but all the air still leaves the room.

"What about them?" It's more combative than he means, but--

"Did Nancy cheat on you with Jonathan Byers?"

He swallows and it hurts. She did cheat, is the thing. It's not public information, still only speculation, but--

"You can't believe everything you read, Murray."

"So, she didn't cheat?" There's a glow to Murray's eyes that tells Steve he already knows the answer.

"Like, I said before, marriages are hard. We spent a lot of time apart because of our jobs. It took a toll."

"And she was traveling with Jonathan, yes? He's been her photographer for the past decade, from what I understand."

"They were co-workers, but we're all close. And those rumors didn't help our relationship, for sure. It's--not easy to hear that a bunch of people think your wife and close friend may be having an affair, that people 'ship' them. Even when it's not true, it creates--"

"Tension? Distrust?"

"Both, probably." He takes another drink as he nods. "After a while you do start to wonder if there's truth to it, and you're too ignorant or too--too trusting to see it."

"And it eroded the relationship."

"It certainly didn't help." He takes another drink.

"And how about your relationship with Jonathan's brother, Will. Has that been impacted?"

"Of course not. Never. Whatever happens between Nancy, Jonathan, and I, it has nothing to do with the kids. They know that.

"You talked about it."

"Yes. Extensively."

"I know there's often speculation on the relationship you have with them; if you're really close or it's all for the cameras."

"Murray." He leans forward. "We've talked about this before. I met Dustin through Mike, and the whole group followed. I've known them all since they were 8 years old. They're--I mean, not to be cliche, but they're my family." He sips the last bit of martini.

"And where does Eddie Munson fit into that family?"

The question shouldn't be a surprise, but he almost does a spit take, has to fight to keep it together.

"Eddie?"

"Yes." Murray's smile is chilling. "Your close friend Eddie Munson. Musician. Plays Dungeons and Dragons on YouTube. You made out with him in a music video. Ringing any bells?"

"I'm familiar with Eddie," his grin is rigid. "I don't know what that has to do with my marriage ending."

"Well, the rumors weren't all about Nancy, were they?"

"Eddie and I have--we became mutuals online years and years ago. I used one of his songs in a video and the kids are obsessed with his dnd stuff, so. We've become close."

"Friends?"

"Isn't that implied?"

"After that music video, I don't think so."

Steve rolls his eyes, lets the irritation show for the first time. "He asked me to be in his video. There's nothing scandalous about it."

"What's your relationship with Eddie right now?"

"Like I said, friends."

"Do you want it to be more than that?"

"Eddie's really important to me."

"Is that all?"

"Not really sure what you want me to say here, Murray."

"You were married to a woman for years, but now there are questions about your sexuality."

He grits his teeth. "My sexuality isn't anyone's business aside my own. People can say shit on Twitter all they want, that doesn't mean they know me. But--the end of my marriage--it definitely gave me the space for self-discovery, I guess? In a way I hadn't had before."

"And is Eddie a part of that self-discovery?"

"Yeah, as one of my closest friends, he is."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"That's--that's not--I'm going through a divorce. My focus isn't on starting another relationship right now."

"You, famously, tattooed your initials on the inside of his thigh during an Instagram live. That's pretty intimate."

"We were just having a little fun."

"Huh. That seems like more than 'a little fun' to me. So, how's Eddie doing with the increased attention?"

It takes Steve a second to track the change of subject, mind still stuck on the tattoo, on how the ink had looked on Eddie's pale skin.

"It's hard." Steve eventually answers. "Of course he enjoys bringing his music and dnd to a wider audience, but the focus on his personal life is--it's a lot."

"Well, he should have thought about before letting you tattoo him for your 850,000 followers. Does he want a relationship with you?"

His throat is dry, burning, he wishes he had more martini. He wishes he'd never taken a sip. "You'd have to ask him. I'm just taking it day by day, you know? That's what I need right now."

"We're getting to the end of our time, but you know I have to ask. Your best friend, Robin Buckley, she very famously unfollowed both Nancy and Jonathan on all social media when news broke about your divorce. Can you tell us why she unfollowed them?"

"I have no control over Robin's accounts. I didn't even know she followed Jonathan ever, and she and Nancy have a relationship outside of me, you know? I can't say what happened between them."

"She's been in your videos with Eddie. She like him?"

"Very much. It's kind of annoying actually. They keep ganging up on me."

"Much to everyone's delight, I'm sure. So, what can we expect from the newly single Steve Harrington?"

"There are a couple things in the works, but only time will tell."

---

He walks through his front door an hour later, and Eddie's sitting on the couch, playing a soft melody on an acoustic guitar. He stops when he sees Steve, setting the guitar aside, and standing.

"How'd it go, baby?" He asks. His soft smile is so beautiful, Steve gets a lump in his throat.

"As expected." He crosses the space between them, lets Eddie pull him close.

"He ask about us?" Eddie's breath tickles his ear.

"Of course."

"And you--"

"I want--it should be just for us. We should be able to announce when we're ready. Not when Murray-fucking-Bauman asks."

Eddie kisses him, then, sweet and slow, making him lose his breath.

"Whenever you're ready, I'll be right by your side."

"You sure? All my mess--"

"Is mine too. Afraid you're stuck with me for the long haul, Steve Harrington."

[leah-lover]

Sketches. Mapi x Ingrid x reader.

Summary: what happens when Ingrid and mapi discover the sketches r drew of them.

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

Doom scrolling on your phone after practice was your favorite activity of the day. You would come home exhausted, throw your kitbag in the hallway, and cocoon in your coach for about an hour.

Today was no different. You got home and did the same thing. You opened TikTok, and scrolled half mindedly. One video though grabbed your attention. It was a tik tok from the official page of Barcelona where your teammates were asked to describe you in a few words.

Cata was the first to answer and she did so by describing you as quiet. It was fair you didn't talk much if at all. It's not that you weren't comfortable enough with the team, you were just a quiet person. Irene was next and she called you kind which put a smile on your face. All your teammates called you different versions of sweet, kind, funny, quiet, and shy. You found their words endearing and it almost brought you to tears. This reaction quickly went away after you heard what mapi described you. “ Talented artist.” your face turned white and your heartbeat was accelerating. Her answer was followed by Ingrid who described you as an “ impressive painter.”

You dropped your phone quickly. “ No it can't be. No no no no. Fuck!!” You got up from the couch and tried to keep yourself busy. You put away your kit bag, did laundry , cleaned the house surprisingly thoroughly. You even meal prepped. all of this so that you wouldn't think about that video, their response, and what most likely saw.

Your alarm found you awake for the first time since the champion’s league final which spoke greatly to the anxiety you were experiencing. The thought of being face to face with them knowing that they know your secret terrified you but had to go to training so you did, and your mission was to get through the day without making contact with them because if you did you would either cry or throw up and that wasn't an option.

“ Nena what's wrong?” Asked Alexia at the meeting room.

“ Nothing capi everything is good.” You say trying to contain your tears. That's when she held your hand and redirected her focus to the coach. She rubbed her thumb across your knuckles once in a while. Once the meeting was over she pulled you gently out of the room and to a different room.

“ We are not getting out of this room until you tell me what is wrong.” Alexia looked so gentle, caring and a little bit worried. But you couldn't tell her what was wrong.

“ Nena I love you and I care about you deeply. Your anxiety is clearly through the roof. Just let me help you. We decided that you would let me help, remember.” She put her hand on your shoulder and desperately waited for an answer.

Alexia was like a big sister to you. She helped you survive your time in Barca but your issue right now was within the team not the pressure or the limelight and you know there was nothing to fix it.

“ I want a transfer. I want to leave Barcelona. I want to leave. “ You close your eyes so that you won't cry.

“ It's okay pequena everything is gonna be okay. I can fix this, whatever this is I can fix it. Trust me.” She pulled you in for a hug. Your anxiety was through the roof and the voices in your head were screaming vile and scary things at you.

“ I want to leave ale. I am serious.” You try to say sturnely.

“ You are one of your best strikers. We need you now more than ever if we want to quadruple again. And we do so you are staying.” She just held you as you cried some more.

Once you calmed down you apologized to Alexia. “ I guess you aren't gonna tell me right?” she asked again.

“ It's just about a stupid video.” You tried to stop the words as they were coming out of your mouth but it was too late.

“What video?” She asked suspiciously.

“ A video posted by the Barca page. It's nothing to worry about. Sorry capi, I didn't mean to freak out.”

“ It's fine Nena if you don't feel like training you can go home. “ She proposed after realizing you won't say anything.

“ Yeah I think that is a good idea.” You went to the locker room, grabbed your bag and left. Alexia then pulled out her phone and searched for the video you were talking about. She watched it 3 times and her teamates’s answers seemed fine, but she got suspicious of mapi and Ingrid's answers so she went to talk to them.

“ Maria, Ingrid, I need to talk to you.” Demanded the captain. They complied and waited for her at the side of the pitch.

“ Where is Nena?” Asked mapi.

“ That's what I am here to talk to you about. She went home now. I just managed to calm her down but she isn't okay. She was crying and she said she wanted a transfer from this team. She also said something about a video the social media team posted. I didn't understand anything.” Mapi and Ingrid gave one another a look they both understood. They knew what troubled you and they felt bad for it.

“ Don't worry about it ale. We will make things right, I promise you.” Said Ingrid.

“So you did something wrong. You hurt her somehow” Alexia started to frown with anger.

“ Ale calm down, I will tell you everything just not now. Everything will be alright tomorrow.”

“Well it better fucking be or you will answer to me.” added the captain before leaving.

When you arrived home your head was pounding because of the crying so you headed straight to your bedroom, got under the covers and slept almost immediately, too tired to do anything else. You only woke up when your phone was buzzing under your pillow.

“ Hola” you answered without checking who is calling.

“ Hola Nena, I need you to open the door. We are standing outside.” Said a familiar voice.

You put your phone to the side and went straight to your door not realizing what you were doing.

Once you opened the door, your eyes opened wide, surprised at who was at your door. You stood there like a statue trying desperately to calm the voices in your head.

“Nena , please let us in, we need to talk to you.” said ingrid in the gentlest voice you ever heard.

You couldn't kick them out so you stepped aside and let them get in. By the time you got to the living room your heart was beating very fast, each breath was harder and harder and the walls around you started to close in on you. Mapi was the first one to notice so she came running towards you. She took your hand, guided you to the couch and started to construct you to take deep breaths.

“ I am gonna leave. Transfer window is in 2 weeks so the coach has enough time to secure a deal with a new team. Even if they dont we can fake an injury for the media and I can just stay home until the summer where we can look again for another deal. You don't have to worry about anything. I won't cause any problems i swear. . ” you say once you get your breath back.

“ nena why do you think anybody wants you to leave?” askes ingrid.

“ I know you think I am a creep, I understand that. I don't want to cause any problems within the team so I am leaving.” you try to say as calmly as you can.

“ nena we don't think you are creepy.” replied mapi. You look at them with confusion. What if you understood everything all wrong? what if you had jumped to false confusion? What if this was all a misunderstanding from you part?

“ You said in that video that I draw really well. I never showed you any of my drawings so that means that you saw them.” you try to piece everything together.

They both look at eachother hesitantly before ingrid starts talking.

“ The other day in the locker room you wanted to talk to the physio and left your ipad open, that's when I saw a drawing of myself and I zoomed out to see the full picture. I then accidentally swiped and saw that you drew a few portraits of me and mapi separately and together.” you knew that they saw the portraits, but hearing the words come out of ingrid’s mouth made the situation much worse for you. Those drawings were something sacred and intimate to you. You expressed your every thought through them. They were your safe space and they gave solace. But now they have changed into a nightmare that would force you to leave your favorite place in the world.

“ Did you see all of them?” your voice seemed to have shrunk and as you ask the question staring at the floor.

“ yes but we don't think it's creepy. We think it's beautiful that you drew us.” mapi didn't know what to say. She was afraid that she said the wrong thing and made the situation worse.

“ mapi you saw 79 portraits of you and your girlfriend on my ipad. Very detailed portraits of the two of you that I drew when I was near you in the meeting room or training or the dinner hall or even my own bedroom and you don't think that that’s a little bit sick.” you ask the question sarcastically.

“ No we don't. look we didn't come here to fight with you or reprimand you we….” you didn't let ingrid finish her sentence, you instead got up, grabbed your ipad and displayed the portraits for them.

“ You seriously don't think this portrait is creepy.” you show them a portrait you drew of them kissing. You weren't thinking of how embarrassing this moment was, you were trying to convince yourself that they hate you because it was better than the alternative. “ Look, I hate myself for this more than you could ever hate me. That's why I want to leave. I am not going to make you feel uncomfortable anymore. “

“ can you please just shut up for a moment. We don't hate you, we don't find you creepy, we liked what we saw, and we think you are very talented. Please don't turn this into something it's not. And please don't ask for a transfer.” mapi didn't mean for her words to come out like that but she couldn't stand seeing the hurt on your face.

“ Look what Maria means to say is that it's all good with us. You don't have to worry about anything and that we are sorry we brought it up in the first place.” ingrid then extended her arms and offered you a hug which you took. You hugged her and mapi again as they left your apartment. Once you found yourself alone in your house again you grabbed your ipad and smashed it to the ground cracking the screen. You left it there on the ground and went straight to bed.

While you slept soundly the couple were the ones that would stay awake late at night.

' you shouldn't have said it like that maria.’ reprimanded ingrid.

“ What did you want me to do? I couldn't just sit there and let her insult herself.” defended mapi.

“ I don't think we handled it right. We should have talked to her more.”

“ you have seen her when she closes herself off. You can't break through when she does that. Once she convinced herself with something you can't undo it. And now she convinced herself that we hate her which isn't true.”

“ We have to find a way to convince her otherwise. She can't leave.”

“ she won't, amor.”

The next day was travel day and you were the first on that bus. You sat in the front, put on your head phones and closed your eyes. The team knew from alexia not to bother you and alexia was informed by ingrid and mapi to let them handle your situation.

You didn't hear anybody get on the bus, you only realized what was happening when the bus started moving. You weren't bothered for the first 20 minutes of the ride but that didn't last long because somebody snatched an airpod from your ear.

“ No iPad today?” asked a smiling mapi who sat next to you . Ingrid sat in front of you.

“ No, I gave that up.”

“ It's a shame you were very good at it.” she responded.

“ Since when did you start drawing?” asked ingrid.

“ since I was a kid. My therapist used to encourage me to do it because I wasn't so good at expressing what i am feeling.”

“ and these drawings help you express your feelings?” you knew what ingrid was getting to and you didn't want to go there so you went for your phone to try and increase the volume of the airpod left in your ear but ingrid’s hand got to it first.

“ Yesterday we were scared that we would say the wrong thing. But today I would rather say the wrong thing than lose you nena.” what ingrid said shocked you.

“ So you were saying that drawing helps you express things right?” continues mapi.

“ yeah. I am not very good at words. I never was so I drew all the words I couldn't say. “

“ Do you have your ipad with you?” asked ingrid.

“ No, I don't have an ipad anymore i smashed it yesterday.”

“ why?”

“ because….” you were quickly interrupted by mapi “ don't you dare say it's creepy.”

A staff member interrupts your conversation by putting an envelope on the table.

“ room 1209, 3 beds like you asked.” she said looking at mapi.

“ What did you do?” you ask confused.

“ I am making sure you are not leaving.”

The bus stopped so you couldn't continue the conversation. You weren't left any room to protest the decision that was made for you as the couple were more stubborn than you are.

Once you got in the room you were hit with the reality that you were going to have to sleep in the same room as them.

“ mapi i can't stay here.”

“ why not?”

“ You know the reason why.”

“ No we dont.” said ingrid.

“ Please don't make me go through this. I promise I won't leave, just please don't make me.”

“ I don't understand why you are so upset right now. We are just going to share a room.

The couple knew that playing dumb would anger you enough that you would start talking. The melancholic look on their faces hit the nail on the head.

“ i cant be here because of the same reason i drew those fucking drawing.. I tried to get you out of my head by drawing you and fantasizing about you but i can't stay stop whatever i am feeling from coming out when i'm sleeping and you are cuddling next to me.”

“ Why would that bother you?” they continued to play on your built up anger.

“ It bothers me because I want to be in the middle of you. I want to be with you. That's why I drew you, that's why I fantasize about it and that's why I can't sleep here.” you weren't realizing what you were saying not until you said it and it hit you like a truck.

Suddenly , you see the couple moving two beds together, taking off their shoes, and laying on the bed. Ingrid then taps on the space between them calling you over.

“ you gotta be fucking kidding me?” you say.

“ We knew what you felt the day we saw you drawing but we thought we were just reaching or projecting our feelings towards you. Since yesterday we were trying to get you to admit your feelings so that we would do too but you kept on insulting yourself which was nice by the way so we resulted in playing dumb which clearly worked. “ said mapi.

“ We care about you, we don't want to lose you. We don't have to figure out everything right now so just come and lay with us please. “ added ingrid.

You were moving on autopilot when you took off your shoes and layed in the middle of the bed between them . you stared at ingrid’s eyes for long time before you moved or spoke.

“ Your eyes are so beautiful I could never capture them in a drawing.” you then look over at mapi “ and you smile i don't think i have never seen it up close. This is too much.” you try to get up but they stop you.

“ We don't have to do anything right now.” mapi handed you a notebook and a pen.

“ Why don't you draw this moment now.” you take the pen and the biggest smile spreads on your face as you get up, look at them, and start drawing as they admired you.

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

I love the way you write Logan, it's so comforting! Can't wait to see more of your work, it's lovely💗

Idk if this would be your thing so feel free to ignore obviously!

How do you think Logan's dynamic would be with a reader having intense intimacy issues, to the point where they struggle to even think about doing anything more than make out with him? I really haven't found any fic like that and I think that you would a concept like that more than justice

I do see him having some intimacy issues himself (traumatized wet cat💀)

this is so sweet, thank you so much! My brain immediately supplied a list of head canons, I hope that you enjoy <3

~ So I am thinking about Logan from the original trilogy for these in particular ~ He definitely has some intimacy issues, more so on the emotional intimacy side than physical intimacy ~That is, until he meets you. You're a professor at the school, and while he can tell you love the young mutants with a large part of your heart, you remain physically distant from them. When the Youngers ones reach for a hug, you meet them instead with a fist bump or a high five. Never cruel, but always setting your boundary. ~The first time you catch him noticing your habit, you expect him to roll his eyes, or hit you with a judgy side eye. Instead, he quirks his head and resumes what he had previously been doing. ~Eventually, the two of you start spending a lot more time together. He will nudge a cup of coffee your way, and ask after you when you have a headache. He never encroaches on your space, despite being quite touchy with the other faculty.

~You spend a week working up the courage to confront him about it, strategizing the best way to ask for the reassurance you want but have trouble asking for. You expect him to blow you off, but when you knock on his door, he ushers you inside and lets you choose where to sit in the room, choosing his seat to be close enough to show he is invested but far enough away for your comfort. It isn't even a conscious thought for him, it's natural. ~You fumble through your question, doing your best to explain your line of thinking, before eventually just spitting out "do you hate me?" ~He is so shocked that he doesn't know what to say for a few seconds, which only makes your anxiety feel worse. ~He takes a few seconds, collecting his thoughts, and then you can see the typical Logan smirk start sparkling in his eye again. "Sweetheart, it's a little hard to hate the person you're acting a fool over". Your eyes practically bug out of your skull, and he chuckles to himself. He is twitching in his seat, and you can tell he is trying his best to not gather you up in his arms. ~You extend a hand out to him, palm upturned. He takes it instantly. He raises your entwined hands halfway towards his mouth, before meeting your eyes and waiting for your reaction. ~You nod, holding your breath and he drops a kiss on the back of your hand, before adjusting so that he can kiss your palm as well. ~When he hears your heartbeat stutter, he is quick to hold your hand again, resting against his knee. He confirms that you feel the same way, insistent on getting verbal confirmation. Your face feels like it is on fire, but you reply in the affirmative. "We are going to take this as slow as you need. I... I care about you so much, and your comfort always comes before anything else." ~You feel a few tears well up, and he moves to wipe them away as they begin to fall. Again, he pauses before actually making contact with your face, waiting for your gentle nod. ~From that day on, you are even more attached at the hip than before. Logan loves knowing that you are with him for more than his body, and he is constantly making sure that you know how much he values you. ~Overall, I just imagine him being very sweet and understanding and taking it as slow as you need. He is protective of you when you meet new people, often coming in between you and others who are not as considerate as he thinks they should be. Definitely sends his protective instincts into a bit of an overdrive, but you also appreciate having the scary dog privilege when you are out in public as well. People are definitely giving you a wider berth than you are used to. You always feels safe and taken care of with him, which is exactly how he wants it to be

[linkspooky]

SUKUNA, YOU ARE ME

Now that we're in the last few chapters of Jujutsu Kaisen it's time to do a deep dive into Yuji and Sukuna's relationship. Is what Yuji showing Sukuna here truly empathy? Does Sukuna's death and Yuji's attempt to reach out mean Sukuna was human all along? We'll discuss that, the parallels between this and Mahito, and what Sukuna's exit means for both himself and Yuji as characters underneath the cut.

I AM YOU

While this post is about the connection between Yuji and Sukuna, I'm going to say the majority of this post will be about Yuji. I stated this in a previous post, I don't believe Yuji's showing Sukuna empathy here. While his offer to let Sukuna live inside of him may be genuine, it doesn't come from a place of genuine understanding. Sukuna himself isn't written as a character to be understood or empathized with.

Look at the words Yuji said. "You are me." He's not saying he's like Sukuna, he's saying Sukuna is like him. He is projecting himself onto Sukuna. Everyone in the story does, even Kashimo and Gojo who both considers themselves the strongest of their time and who naturally should have been able to understand the isolation of being someone as incomprehensibly strong as Sukuna were just projecting their own personal experiences on them in the end.

Of course we could dig a little deeper on the topic.

How much can one person truly understand another? It doesn't have to be a curser, or a borderline incomprehensible deity like Sukuna. How much do you understand your own best friend?

Gojo mentions that he felt loved by everyone, but also that he was so beyond their understanding that they may as well have been plants in comparison to him.

Of course, Shoko herself says that Shoko was always right there next to Gojo trying to offer him support and Gojo just chose to keep her at an arm's length. Gojo also believed that only someone as equally as powerful as him like Sukuna could understand him. Only to find that Sukuna didn't care about Gojo's feelings of isolation at all, nor was he troubled by love in the least.

Gojo makes himself out to be someone so superior to other human beings that he's beyond their comprehension, but that's Sukuna. Gojo did feel understood once, by Geto in his youth. The thing was that Gojo assumed that Geto could understand him because they were both euqal in power level. However, years after the fact when Gojo has long surpassed Geto, their friendship remains exactly the same.

The one that Gojo pictures patting him on the back is adult Geto, not teenage Geto. The one who Gojo truly would have been satisfied by in the end was Geto, not Sukuna.

So maybe what makes Sukuna so impossible to understand by others is that same reason why Shoko can't be close to Geto. Sukuna can't be understood by others because he doesn't care to be understood by them.

Perhaps, understanding isn't the end all be all of human connection. Gojo accepted Geto, and he didn't accept Shoko. Maybe Shoko would have been able to understand Gojo if Gojo ever tried to be emotionally open with her the ever way he was with Geto then he might have felt understood.

Then there's Ryomen Sukuna who rejects love and every notion of humanity along with it.

Therefore empathy means nothing to Sukuna. Yuji's empathy in particular. No, Yuji's attempt to save Sukuna is more about himself than Sukuna. It's a reflection of a change of Yuji's state of mind that he's willing to accept living with a curse like Sukuna. That he'd even try to understand Sukuna. Curses that Yuji previously dismissed as not even being worth understanding.

The first time Yuji said these words was when Yuji tried to make an offer to Sukuna to let him take control of his body in order to heal Junpei, in order to be laughed at by Sukuna. It was the last time Yuji ever asked anything of Sukuna.

Remember, in the very beginning of the manga Sukuna seemed like a standard inner demon character like the nine tails, or hollow ichigo. Yuji even thinks he can use Sukuna to switch out to help fight for him like against the special grade cursed spirit. However, we and the audience quickly learns that not only is Sukuna not just some evil half of Yuji, or a convenient power up, he's an actively malevolent entity with a will that will do anything to escape.

When Yuji realizes that Mahito and Sukuna are both curses, he starts to see Sukuna as an enemy trapped within him. Something he's reminded of again and again, especially after the Shibuya Massacre. From that moment Sukuna and Mahito become like villainous foils to Yuji, the dark to his light, the enemy for him to kill.

Yuji defines Mahito and Sukuna as his opposites and his enemies By killing them, he also gives himself a role. It's Sukuna and Mahito's actions in taunting is the first time Yuji uses the language "kill" when dealing with curses.

Mahito compared himself to Yuji and by saying as a curse he mindlessly kills humans. The same way that Yuji as a sorcerer, mindlessly kills curses. They are on the opposite side of the same cycle with no end in sight.

Yuji decides to embrace this violent cycle because it at least gives him a role to play. If curses are the shadow of humanity, if they're a reflection of humanity then what exactly is you saying here?

Yuji says he is Mahito, and then immediately that he's going to kill Mahito. It's not a statement of self acceptance, or accepting your shadow, but rather a statement of self destruction. Even though Mahito is a chaotic evil curse who enjoys killing humans, Yuji's decision to throw away his humanity just for the sake of killing him isn't a healthy way.

When Mahito said "You are me" he was attempting to drag Yuji down to his level. Yuji then willfully descends to Mahito's level as long as it gives him the strength to kill Mahito. It's character regression on his part. Yuji once said he didn't want to kill because then the value of life might become vague to him.

In a way it did, because Yuji began to devalue his own life. Yuji wasn't able to see any meaning in his life besides a "role' that someone else assigned him. Not only was he willing to throw it away at the drop of a hat, but he also didn't feel like he had permission to live.

Unlike Yuta who actively sought affirmation from others, Yuji rejected that affirmation and tried to push everyone including people like Megumi and Choso away. They were right next to him, but Yuji became unable to accept their love and support.

Yuji is a strange paradox because he presents himself as an all-loving hero who just wants to save as many people as possible, but then you read his dialogue and he's like "I'm just a cog in the machine, I will continue to kill curses until one day I die. Then I'll just be replaced by another cog. There's no meaning at all to this sequence. Life is an endless nightmare."

I'm exaggerating, but underneath Yuji's sweet nature and goofing around, there's this very bleak attitude that his life means nothing except for the labor that he produces, and one day he'll be tossed aside and that's fine because it's what he deserves.

If Yuta seeks self-affirmation, then Yuji is seeking self-destruction. His self-loathing leads him to practically lay his head down on the chopping block and offer his neck up for execution by Higuruma's domain during the fight with Higuruma, even when Higuruma himself points out that Yuji isn't the one at fault because he wans't in control of his own body. Yuji will still take the blame, anything to punish himself further.

So, the words Yuji uses in his triumph against Mahito also signify the destruction of his own ego. That is what Yuji does when he adapts his cog mentality, he denies his own sense of self.

What Yuji experiences is basically a prolonged ego-death.

Ego death is a "complete loss of subjective self-identity".[1] The term is used in various intertwined contexts, with related meanings. The 19th-century philosopher and psychologist William James uses the synonymous term "self-surrender" and Jungian psychology uses the synonymous term psychic death, referring to a fundamental transformation of the psyche.

I brung up Ego-Death in the Jungian context, but in Yuji's case, resigning himself to being a cog is also an act of self-surrender. Yuji basically moves away from all of his previous ideals. He only sees himself as a tool to kill curses. Saving others, or helping guide others to a natural death, those things get put on the back burner as a tool doesn't need ideals.

He's abandoned all kinds of idealism and higher reasoning. In fact that is what Mahito wanted him to do, to abandon the higher reasoning that belongs to human beings and act on instinct like a curse. Mahito successfully pushed Yuji to abandon human reason and become an unthinking cog.

Jung defines the Ego-Death as the stripping away of everything else to revert to your natural self. According to Ventegodt and Merrick, the Jungian term "psychic death" is a synonym for "ego death":

In order to radically improve global quality of life, it seems necessary to have a fundamental transformation of the psyche. Such a shift in personality has been labeled an "ego death" in Buddhism or a psychic death by Jung, because it implies a shift back to the existential position of the natural self, i.e., living the true purpose of life. 

Megumi also experiences an ego-death over the course of the manga that mirrors Yuji's own when Sukuna takes over his body, soaks his soul to bring Megumi near evil, and then kills Tsumiki. At this point both Yuji and Megumi both lose what were their reasons for fighting. The so-called "dignity obtained by human reason" is lost. After having those reasons stripped away from them and experiencing their ego-deaths both of them surrender control. Megumi becomes helpless and stops trying to fight Sukuna. While Yuji may not seem like he's given up on anything since he keeps trucking along, he too has given up on thinking for himself. Yuji has essentially given up as much as Megumi has, there's just less plot consequences for it.

Either way they are both brought to their lowest point by ego-death, in order to bring them to their lowest point, and make them experience a rebirth of sorts.

The persona in Jung is the face you show the outside world. it's one part of personality, with the other being the shadow. The shadow is the repressed part of peresonality. Just like curses are made up of repressed human emotions that leak out from our collective subconscious. Curses serve as the shadow of humanity collectively, especially Mahito who is made up of everything humans hate and fear about other humans. The physical embodiment of human cruelty.

However, a person can't live without their shadow. There's no such thing as a human without flaws after all, and you don't become a better person just by ignoring your own flaws. The kinds of people who are unaware of their own flaws tend to unconsciously repeat the same mistakes again and again and again.

Yuji despises curses as inhuman monsters that he can slaughter like they're enemies in a video game, but they're like... made of human vices. They are the product of humanity's emotions. Yuji's habit of only looking at the good makes him unaware of both his own shadow, his own shortcomings, and also the darker shades of grey in the world around him.

Megumi and Yuji both are characters who, need to be dragged down to the darkest point of the shadow and forced to confront their own flaws in order to learn about themselves. It's not a coincidence thaT Yuji who puts humanity on such a pedestal is a human and curse hybrid. That his older brother who's shown to be a source of overflowing unconditional love is also a human / curse hybrid, and who Yuji nearly killed because he blindly, obediently decided to kill curses. That Yuji killed two of his other curse / human hybrid brothers in spite of noticing they were different from other curses and had a family bond with each other.

It's not a coincidence that Yuji who puts humanity on such a pedestal devoured the corpses of all of his other brothers the same way that Sukuna ate his own twin in the womb to gain the power to defeat Sukuna.

Yuiji lacks a lot of self-awareness. That's why I've always said he doesn't quite live up to the "all-loving hero" he sees himself as. Savior is just a role that Yuji has adopted in order to give himself a purpose in life, but he falls short of that. The reason that he falls short is ironically that Yuji tries so hard to be superhuman, that he can't forgive himself for having basic human flaws.

It's why "Being a child is not a sin" is such a meaningful line coming from Nanami. In Yuji's eyes being a child is a sin. He constantly blames himself for not being able to hold the weight of the world on his shoulders, for not being able to save everyone by himself even though he's only been a jujutsu sorcerer for a few months.

It's why Yuji gets excited for a moment when Kusakabe mentions that Yuji is developing very fast by sorcerer standards, because he wants to be someone monstrously talented like Higuruma or Gojo - and why he immediately looks so disappointed when Kusakabe says it's not because Yuji is talented it's just because of Sukuna.

Yuji feels an overwhelming amount of responsibility and wants to be a special person who is strong enough to actually carry all that responsibility on his shoulders. That's why I say Yuji isn't a true all-loving hero, because it's more about Yuji's own feelings than the act of saving others. His guilt complex over Sukuna.

His desires to be someone special and meaningful. Yuji wants to be a good person who saves others because it gives YUJI and purpose and it gives YUJI a sense of fulfillment. If you've read Tokyo Ghoul it's like Kaneki's reason for participating in the Anteiku Raid. Not because he genuinely wanted to save others, but because he "was tired of not being able to do a thing."

(I'm keeping the meme panel because it's funny)-

Yuji wants to be strong and wants to be a savior because Yuji feels insecure in himself and loathes himself for his own weakness. However, this pushes Yuji farther away from his goal of saving others and making connections with other people so he can die surrounded by people BECAUSE people empathize with each other over their weaknesses.

Yuji wants to become someone strong and unbreakable who will never falter, never feel pain, and most of all never lose. He basically wants to become Satoru Gojo, but if Yuji were to ever rise to Gojo's level like that just by getting rid of all of his weaknesses he'd fundamentally lose his ability to connect with people the way Gojo and Sukuna have.

Yuji defines himself in strength, and suffering, and always overcoming, but then what is his heart for? He strives to become someone stronger than Gojo or Sukuna to protect his friends, but if he loses his heart that loves and cherishes those friends in the process then what even is the point?

Yuji walks a dangerous road from the culling games up until the Shinjuku incident, into nearly becoming like Mahito or Sukuna in his attempts to be stronger than them. I don't think he was ever in danger of going on a murder spree, but I do think he was risking becoming someone like Gojo.

Gojo made himself a tool for Jujutsu Society for the greater good and look what happened to him in the end. Not only did he die in the line of duty, his corpse was turned into a puppet to use as a weapon against the enemy. He made himself into a monster even when people like Yuta were begging Gojo not to. Yuji was on a similiar path of cutting off all the people who loved him and just becoming a person exploited in both life and death for the greater good.

So what stopped him?

Megumi.

YOU ARE ME.

A few people said that Yuji's abandoning the cog mentality suddenly happened too fast, or felt unearned but I think if you look at the culling games arc from higiruma's fight onwards as a whole it's actually a natural progression.

It all starts with Higuruma and Yuji's conversation:

Higuruma: "You're innocent. You didn't commit that crime." Yuji: "Even so, it's my fault." Higuruma: "Why?" Yuji: "...I see. Itaodri, there still may be a lot of people who are weak like you."

Yuji is someone who loevs humans, but puts humanity as a whole on a pedestal. He loves humanity but hates human weakness, especially his own weakness. Ironic because Higuruma is also someone who became jaded by having to work in the corrupt justice system and was forced to look at human ugliness day after day after day even though he wanted to be someone who valued people for their weaknesses.

Yuji doesn't learn to empathize with human weakness until Megumi's weaknesses are the one he's forced to confront. He doesn't abandon his notion of roles until he's robbed of his roles by Sukuna when Megumi becomes the possessed one instead of him.

Yuji is fine with being a sacrifice for the greater good, but he is not fine with sacrificing Megumi. By knowing exactly what Megumi is going through and wanting to save Megumi from Sukuna's possession, Yuji is in an odd way forced to empathize with himself. Like, it's a double standard on his part that's being challenged. Yuji blames himself for all the people he hurt as Sukuna, but he'd never blame Megumi for letting Sukuna kill tsumuki while possessing his body.

In his refusal to sacrifice Megumi for the greater good, even when Megumi is begging him to do so he rejects the common Ethos that sorcerer's are expendable cogs who are expected to sacrifice themselves and their comrades in the eternal fight against curses for the sake of public safety.

Yuji carries with him this grandiose notion of saving as many people as possible. However, when the option comes to make a sacrifice that would save hundreds of thousands of people from the merger by fighting to kill Megumi instead of save him from Sukuna's clutches Yuji can't do it. Even though Megumi at that point would be a completely willing sacrifice.

Yuji has to abandon his cog mentality to save Megumi, because an unthinking cog wouldn't put Megumi's life over the lives of everyone in Shibuya. A cog, especially a sorcerer would kill that one kid in order to save thousands of lives. Heck, Kusakabe more conservative sorcerer even brings up that argument that everything would have been avoided if Yuji was executed to begin with.

In order to save Megumi, Yuji must also reclaim his own humanity. There's a reason that Nanami, and Nobara, die right before Yuji adopts his cog mentality. Nanami, the most ethical of the first grade sorcerers who tried to teach Yuji to value his own life because he was a child, and Nobara the only kid in the main trio who was a normal person are both representatives of Yuji's humanity.

After losing both Yuji becomes reckless, he stops valuing his own life. As I said far, far bove, Yuji never listened to the advice Nanami gave him that it wasn't a sin to be a child. Yuji has this entire time thought it was a sin just to be weak, just to need the help of other people, just to not be able to accomplish everything on his own.

After Yuji starts reconciling with his own humanity though, he regains his connections to both Nanami and Nobara. Nanami comes back symbolically in the form of Higuruma, someone Yuji tries to encourage to live instead of taking the same suicidal path that Yuji was bent on. Whereas, Nobara herself actually comes back from the dead in time to land the final blow, the same way she reminded Yuji of her presence and that she wasn't alone in the Mahito fight.

Yuji also regains these connections when he's processed the grief for both people. He remembers Nanami and what Nanami left him in a more positive light. In my interpretation the line "I am a sorcerer" refers to Yuji developing a more healthy version of being a sorcerer. That instead of Yuji seeing sorcerers as slaves who have to sacrifice themselves for the greater good like Geto did, Yuji can see the camraderie between sorcerers who fight and put their lives on the line together.

Either way, I think the moment Yuji truly reconciled with the grief of death is sadly enough with Choso's death. If you want proof that Yuji's revelation wasn't rushed, that he didn't skip from point a to point b, then it's right here.

Choso apologizes to Yuji for leaving him ahead of time, and Yuji tells him not to, because Choso was always by his side when he was at his lowest point and that brief time they had together was enough for him.

Yuji's relationships so far have been defined by his fear of losing people. He wants to have a natural death, he wants the other people around him to have good deaths, he doesn't want people to die too early. By focusing on the fear of losing people, he hasn't yet been able to enjoy the time that they were around. However, in this moment he realizes how much Choso meant to him, even if their relationship was brief, and even if it came to an end. Yuji learned you can still love someone even if you inevitably lose them.

This is when Yuji finally accepts mortality and fragility as a part of life.

This is also what Sukuna can't accept. That life is fragile. That life is weak. That life comes to an end. Sukuna's entire goal is to maximize pleasure and live as long as possible, and therefore he's rejected all of the unpleasant parts of reality. Sukuna doesn't want to live in the real world like a human being, he wants to exist only in the world of Jujutsu where he's a god.

This is what Yuji represents to Sukuna, The human vulnerability, and mundanity that he threw away, by literally cannabilizing his own twin and throwing away part of his soul. The part of his soul that Sukuna threw away was taken by Kenjaku, and used as a science experiment to create Yuji. Technically, Sukuna is Yuji's uncle but symbolically Yuji is the twin that Sukuna cast aside. Especially since in this world cursed energy treats identical twins like they are the same person.

Yuji for the longest time tried to do what Sukuna did. Tried to throw his own humanity away so he could be as strong as Sukuna. He literally even ate the corpses of his own brothers.

Yuji and Sukuna are symbolically twins, but Yuji learns to embrace the things that Sukuna threw away. Sukuna threw away his own soul's twin in order to grow strong. He became all powerful in the jujutsu world because he ate his twin and gained an extra pair of arms and a mouth. He's like if Maki chose to kill Mai instead of Mai sacrificing herself for Maki's sake.

Yuji chose companionship with others over power. Sukuna doesn't need others people to satisfy him, and Yuji begs Megumi to come back from the dead because his life would be lonely without him. Yuji doesn't have some noble reason for going this far for Megumi's sake. He's not saving Megumi for the greater good, but because his connection to Megumi is important to him. Because he doesn't want to go through life without Megumi.

Yuji loathes weakness like Sukuna. Yuji desires to be someone special like Sukuna. Yuji has a grandiose sense of self importance like Sukuna. Yuji desires power like Sukuna. Yuji looks down on weak people like Sukuna does, he just condescendingly wants to save them instead of Sukuna who just wants to stomp on them like ants.

Yuji is also literally Sukuna. He was created by an offshoot of his soul. The same way that Sukuna was born with a body perfect for Jujutsu, Yuji was born stronger than anyone his age, and develops at an extreme rate as a sorcerer BECAUSE he was Kenjaku's science project to make the perfect vessel for Sukuna.

They are totally twinsies in so many ways, the only difference in the end is that Yuji learns to value human connection. In Sukuna's book there is no meaning to life, except for the pleasures he pursues as an individual. Therefore Sukuna is the only real person that matters or even exists. The narrator says as much he alone is the honored one, all that exists is his pleasures and displeasures.

In Buberian terms Sukuna only experiences existence and I and It relationships.

Buber's main proposition is that we may address existence in two ways:

The attitude of the "I" towards an "It", towards an object that is separate in itself, which we either use or experience.

The attitude of the "I" towards "Thou", in a relationship in which the other is not separated by discrete bounds.

Sukuna is the "i" and everyone else is an "it." Sukuna is the only real person who exists, and everyone else is just an object for their amusement.

Whereas, Yuji experiences "I" and "Thou" relationships. Yuji learns to see other people as different from himself. Yuji appreciates people as separate entities. While Sukuna gets amusement from his life by treating other people like toys, for Yuji the value in his life comes from the people who have entered into his life in some form. He appreciates the relationships he's formed with people and the memories they've left behind, no matter how brief the time they spent together was.

This is why Yuji's words reach Megumi, because he respects that Megumi feels differently than he does. He doesn't tell Megumi to just suck it up and keep fighting because that's what Yuji would do. He understands that he's a different person than Megumi, and he can't say he understands the grief and pain Megumi is going through right now.

That's Yuji's big revelation, in just a few short months as a sorcerer he's met so many people who left an impact on him. Some of those relationships came to an end early, but that painful ending doesn't negate what they meant to him.

The few months he spent with Choso have value even if it's not the same as the one hudnred and fifty years Choso spent with the rest of his brothers, because Choso supported Yuji when he was at his lowest point. Yuji finally sees that what gave his life meaning was the memories he made with other people while they were alive together. Not the way that they died.

So Yuji is finally willing to let himself exist outside of a role.

That's what he's offering to Sukuna as well. Maybe not empathy or understanding, because if Yuji had truly learned empathy maybe Sukuna might have accepted his offer. No, Yuji is simply willing to offer Sukuna the chance to live alongside him.

Sukuna rejects bonds of all kinds and Yuji is now embracing them. Yuji no longer seeks to annihilate curses because they're a fundamental part of life. Yuji wants to live on with his curses and burdens. He's also willing to give Sukuna a chance to keep living too.

Even Yuji points out that both of them are totally twinsies. Sukuna was born as a curse because he devoured his twin brother in the womb. Yuji was born as a curse because he was created to be Sukuna's vessel. The only way that Yuji is the way that he is is because he was raised as a normal child by his grandfather. If Yuji hadn't then he would have turned out entirely different. It's the same way that Choso became human because of his love for his brothers, even though he was born as a curse human hybrid and tossed aside by Kenjaku as a failed experience.

Yuji acknowledges both his capacity to have turned out like Sukuna if not for his grandfather's sake. This time when he says You are me, he's not saying it to threaten and destroy the person he sees as his shadow. This time Yuji is trying to reconcile with his shadow. He's looking at the person who represents the absolute worst of humanity, and the things he hates about himself and is still willing to give them the chance to keep on living together with him.

When Yuji says "I am you, so I'll kill you" to Mahito, that signals his first step on the road to self destruction.

When Yuji says, "I am you, so I'll save you" to Sukuna, that signals his first step on the road to self-acceptance.

It's Yuji allowing himself for the first time to just exist as a normal person not as the hero of some epic story. He even gave Sukuna that chance too, to just continue living alongisde him, but sukuna rejected it to keep on living as a curse until the end.

So, while Yuji saying "You are me" to Sukuna isn't true empathy, it is Yuji learning to accept himself and his flaws. . Because if Yuji is willing to forgive someone like Sukuna, then perhaps he might just learn to forgive himself.

[unhinged-waterlilly]

Hello!

Something about @/demigod-jack-hearth

Something I wanna say about this post (with my reblog on it). I wanna give a side of a story. Mine to be exact.

They were one of the first people I talked to outside of rp. They were a close friend. But that fades.

I DONT WANT THEM TAGGED IN THIS I DONT WANT THEM TO KNOW ABOUT THIS. I HAVE THEM BLOCKED. IF THEY LEARN ABOUT THIS, IT IS BECAUSE SOMEONE SEND THIS TO THEM.

Tw: sa, strong language, I'm a little bitch, please please please read at your own risk

When start this by saying Jack worries me. I've seen so many post, rp or otherwise, where they bring up extremely triggering comments...just randomly. This has happened to me too. I don't get bothered by them I've been lucky enough to not deal with most and be comfortable with what I have dealt with. I think he needs professional help. Or to talk to someone that is an adult. This is difficult for some people. But there are free therapy websites out there. I have seen them. I have participated in them. The people on the other line aren't professionals but they are people willing to listen. And adults.

It started with when I saw an rp they had with camp Sky. I can't give screenshots of that but I do have some of confronting them.

Now all good right? Yeah! I thought so too. Untill an anon confronts em.

Posts here and here

Oh...kay? What's wrong about this?

Yeah...

Actively calling out anon

Now mind me I thought they had buried this au deep deep into the ground. Wasn't until I opened Circe's blog that I realised they didn't. I was pissed. I had every reason to be. We have so few stories of male victims as it is and this 'au' was blatantly disrespectful to victims of all genders. I felt really fucking disrespected that's for sure.

Unfortunately I don't confront them. But I do vent.

Now I feel bad for this. Maybe this was dirty laundry I shouldn't have aired out. But I was just so angry I couldn't think properly. I didn't mention Jack in this post, but friends figured it out. I won't say who these friends are for obvious reasons. Also, this is a bit wrong. They thought Odysseus cheated with only Circe, and Calyspo was SA. I got that wrong, and I admit it. I only remembered that when I scrolled up our dm to take a screenshot of it.

Now I wanted to leave that convo because I wasn't in the mood for arguing, and I've learned to give people what they want, which makes em and yourself stop. My fault again.

Things happen. It leads to the apology. Now, obviously, I can't tell if an apology is genuine through a screen, and I am most certainly a pessimist. So, like, I don't think it is. Also, I'm almost certain that most was written by whoever the friend was who 'helped' em.

Sure, people can change, but not enough times do they actually. Just look on the Internet. And real life. A person like Jack, well, they've talked to me enough to know it is most likely not the case. If they were so angry at a piece of good criticism, then I don't have much hope.

Am I an angry person ? Yes. Do I think I have the right to be? Yes. Am I also a logical person? I believe so. The people I've asked think so, too. I don't dislike something for no reason. But I do dislike things. What I do like is reasons for my dislikes. With me so far?

Good. Moving on.

After the apology and after I finally got my thoughts in order, I sent them a message because they tagged me. A lot.

This is what I sent. It's emotional, but in my opinion, it also makes sense. I was mad they lied to me. I was mad they twisted the story so. Fucking. Much. Odysseus isn't a rapist and Circe isn't an innocent flower. That is not what an AU is. What was their reaction to this? Nothing. To me at least.

A mutual friend told me they sent the last half of my messages and told them that they were angry I. Didn't. Thank. Them. For. The. Apology. Take that for what you will.

Now they made another post replying to the first anon who criticized them. I've read it. And when I tell you it is so fulled with self-pity-

I haven't collected my thoughts properly about this so this is bad and more emotion than the above. but this is the basic things behind it.

1) never directly addressing what he did and constantly tell em to read the apology. Don't wanna repeat yourself. How much time is it gonna take out of your day exactly?

2) not acknowledging the fact the male sa victim. At all. They don't say anything about it. No 'my condolences'. No 'I'm so sorry that happened to you' . Not acknowledging how terrible of a thing that is. At all.

3)says they aren't gonna defend themself... and defend themselves

4) have yet to tell us who these people are. Which is just bad cuz there are people out there who are okay with this. If they were IRL friends just say that.

5) it felt just fucking dull

Maybe this isn't right. Maybe you disagree with these points. But do not tell me you disagree with the rest.

I wanna end this by saying I am victim of SA. Did I tell him this? No. Maybe I should've. I don't feel comfortable sharing it. Because remembring fucking hurts. Remembering means crying and opening the lights and either sitting or laying down on my back because I can still. Fucking. Feel. It. And I was nine.

I don't want your pity on this. I don't want you to say sorry. The people you should be saying sorry to are the people who are not believed when this happens. Feel sorry for the people who cannot report this stuff because they don't trust the people who are supposed to protect them. Feel sorry for the people who think it was their fault and they actually wanted it when they didn't. 63% of rape are not reported in females. Only 12% of child rapes are reported.

I can't find a clear fucking statistics on males.

Do you know how difficult it is for males to have any representation at all? How many male victims do you see online? Even Odysseus being regonized as one is recent. Fucking. Stop. This is more than a made up story. It means the world to some people. So this actually happen. It might mean everything. This was taken away from them from so many retellings. And a stupid fucking au.

If you want to talk about SA, wanna make a character out of it, learn about it first.

So I'm not going to forgive and I am definitely not going to forget. You can. If you want. I don't care if you do. But I ask you not to forget. Please.

I am tagging Jack's taglist

@zariahthewitch @thegroovydaughterofhestia @if-chaos-was-a-boy @the-gods-strange-children @silena-daughterofaphrodite @fabulousdaughterofhecate @weakest-son-of-sun @chaos-pers0nified @neoptolemus-achilles-son @bast-the-best26 @goddess-of-bubblegum @hispanic-child-of-hermes @gaygirldoodles @luck-is-crucial @reyna4ever @vicious-daughter-of-zeus @feral-hermes-child @oopsies-i-did-a-thing @unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia @that-girl-cupid @ariathemortal @love-lightning-forethought @emdabitchass @kaiaalwayswins @champion-of-revenge @zoe-aura-of-d3ath @itsyourboyezra @lunar-eklipso-r @pink-koi-lovejoy @that-daughter-of-athena @sleepy-as-a-song @smileyalater @gellyhelio @daughter-ofthe-moontitan @demeters-daughter-is-done @the-smart-and-the-dumb-one @trinket-snatcher @creature-under-ur-bed @burnt-out-bitxhes @cloak-of-ares @heraaaaaaaa @unproblematic-hestia @i-was-never-sane

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: you can't stop me from giving a tiny reader to these two and I will not listen to anything ever.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You can't focus on one thing. Your eyes flit around. Shining tables, floating screens, metal tools and gadgets, cabinets with glass doors house endless supplies, Stark-branded emblems from wall to wall...

The lab is extraordinary, well above the shared spaces at the university. A dream come true for any but especially for a student used to ramen and a used single mattress. 

"You... you really get to come here whenever you want?" You rasp as your throat tickles. 

"Yup!" Peter answers at twice your volume. You wince. You tend to mumble and you're just not good with loud noises. He pauses to measure his voice, "uh, yeah, so I figured we could do our project here, study buddy." 

"Oh, mhmm," you hum as you fold your hands over your chest and sway. As awesome as it will be, that usual dread comes over you. What if you break something? What if you get in the way? 

"Pretty cool, right? Mr. Stark is so awesome." 

"Mr. Stark? Yeah, yeah..." you cough and lower your hands over stomach. "Thought it was a rumour..." 

"Yeah, he helped me out in high school after I won a robotics tournament. He's chill." 

You nod, almost frantically, as your eyes skitter around without focus. Your chest starts to tighten and you blink big. Peter shifts away from you. 

"Hey, you need a minute?" He asks. 

You look at him and keep nodding. It's why your happy you got him as your partner. He checks in. Not to mention, he's never annoyed by you. 

"I'll be here, wanna take a breath in the hall?"  

You squeak but don't quite get out a yes please. You spin and scurry to the door. You flinch and jump back as it slides open on it's own. Peter laughs and a small smile curves your lips but you're too nervous to laugh. 

The hall is empty. You bask in the solace, calming yourself against the wall. You just get a little worked up in new places. Or loud places. Or crowded places. Then it makes it so you can't breathe and then... 

You pull out your reliever inhaler and take a careful puff. You close your eyes and lean your head back as you wait for your heart to slow. In, out, in, out. 

You grip your inhaler as you stay unmoving against the wall. Your ears prick, listening for any sign of life, as you retreat behind your eyelids. Another breath and you'll be okay. 

"Um, miss?" A rocky voice jars you away from the wall and your eyes snap open. You nearly collide with the man before you. How did you not hear him coming? "Are you alright?" 

You bat your lashes and reach to play with plastic bow clip in your hair. He watches the motion as you nod, "yes, sir. Sorry. I..." Your mouth is sticky and parched, your surprise balls on your tongue. You clear away the lump, "you're... the Winter Soldier." 

His brow twitches, "Bucky." 

"Sorry, sorry, er... Buck...y," you trail off. You swing back and forth, "sorry... again, I..." 

You're embarrassed and lost. You give a sheepish look and turn away. You hurry back to the door and hit the keypad. It blares back at you in rejection. You don't know the code and you don't think your fingerprint will work. You stare at it helplessly. 

"Here," Bucky approaches and presses his thumb to the pad. "You new here?" 

You shake your head. Your chest wracks. You bring your puffer up and suck without thinking.  

The door slides open and you flit through. Peter leans on a table over his phone. He looks over as you enter and stands straight, tapping his fingers on the metal. 

"Hey, you found Bucky!" He grins. 

"Kid," the man follows you inside. Wait, why? Is he going to tell Peter on you? You didn't mean to call him that. You didn't know he wouldn't like it. 

"We're just having a look around," Peter explains, "we're both in engineering. Classmates." He introduces you by name, "Mr. Stark won't care too much if I'm doing homework." 

"Mm," Bucky grumbles as he goes to a far table. 

Peter shrugs and faces you again. "He can be a bit grumpy. We can get outta here." 

He comes forward as you hear metal tinking behind him. You glance over as Bucky works on his metal forearm with a thin tool. His vibranium fingers seems to work on their own as he wiggles the tip in a groove.  

"Grumpy and has super hearing," Bucky snipes as he keeps his attention on his arm. 

Peter's brows pop up and he rolls his eyes, "come on, let's get outta here before he gets his arm calibrated." 

You turn and go back through to the hallway. The door shuts behind Peter and he sighs. He points you down the hall as you shuffle aimlessly. 

"This place is sweet but you know, some of the regulars can be a bit much," he jokes. "You'll get used to Buck. He's never in a good mood. Better when Sam's around but... well, he's grown. Shouldn't need a chaperone, right?" 

You tilt your head but don't say anything. You don't know much about them. You learned about Captain America and The Winter Soldier in history back in high school. Your knowledge of the Avengers and their current roster is extremely lacking. Other than the Spidery one. Everyone on campus talks about him. 

"Mmhmm." You drone. 

"Gee, sorry, I know it's a lot, huh? Didn't mean to overload you!" He chimes. 

You shake your head, "I'm okay." 

"I know, I know. Kinda nice having someone quiet around. Ned is a chatterbox and the worst project partner. He just wants to talk about girls or lego." 

You dip your head to show you're listening. You glance at your inhaler and yuck is away in your crossbody bag. You drop your arms straight and continue next to Peter to the elevator. 

"Wanna get a slice? I'm starving," he says. "My treat." 

"Oh... you don't..." 

"Nah, don't worry about it. I just want pizza without May telling me not too," he chuckles. "Trust, I know a great place." 

You purse your lips and push your shoulders up again. You give a silent surrender with a tilt of your head. Even if you feel a bit guilty, you won't say no to free food. 

[cosmerelists]

Bridge 4 Discuss Terrible Pickup Lines

As (sort of) requested by @dewypeach and @imtheseventh

So back when @cam-ulu29 asked for a Kaladin flirting list, I ran a poll about whether it should be a sincere, sweet list or a list full of terrible, out-of-character pickup lines. The former won by a MILE, but some people were interested in the latter. Dewypeach & imtheseventh in particular suggested doing something with Bridge 4 either suggesting terrible pickup lines or having Kaladin try them out. So here's something like that!

Skar: Worst pickup lines you can come up with. Go.

Lopen: I suggested one for Kaladin, but it wasn't terrible--it was really good. He acted like it was terrible, though--does that count?

Kaladin: It WAS terrible.

Kaladin: And...weird.

Kaladin: I'm not going to flirt with Dalinar. He is my boss. And married. And old.

Lopen: So what I said, right, was that Kal should look Dalinar right in the eye, all serious-like, and say, "My relationship with my father is terrible. Will you be my new Daddy?"

Moash: [spits out drink]

Skar: No!

Lopen: Listen, it would work! I can read a man, and I KNOW that would work on Dalinar!

Kaladin: I DON'T WANT TO FLIRT WITH DALINAR, MY MARRIED ELDERLY BOSS

Lopen: Okay, okay! If you prefer to flirt with Navani, you just gotta roll up with something like, "So I heard you like long, thick towers. It just so happens that I..."

Kaladin: NO

Moash: See, the thing is, Kal, you're attractive enough that you could probably get away with a really bad pickup line.

Moash: I bet you could tell someone that you want to "Plunge straight into their their Honor Chasm" and I bet it would work.

Kaladin: That would absolutely not work.

Moash: You say that, and yet...

Rock: Moash has point, though! We are all well-known now, yes? All good-looking (except maybe for Lopen, who is unfortunately very short). I think men like us get away with some pretty bad lines, yeah?

Letyen: "You did a bridge run straight into my heart."

Moash: "I wanna explore YOUR chasms."

Kaladin: (What's you and the chasms, man?)

Lyn: "Let's...bridge this distance between us."

Teft: "I'm from Bridge 4. Do you want to get a drink?"

Skar: "Let me show you how good I am with my spear."

Sigzil: "You prefilled the forms in my heart."

[They all look at him]

Sigzil: What? In Azir, that's a very effective line.

Moash: Is that true, though, or are you making up Azir stories to trick us stupid Alethi?

Sigzil: [sips drink enigmatically]

Kaladin: Fine, fine, okay!

Kaladin: If I wanted to "pick someone up" with my Bridge 4 cred, I guess I'd try something like...

Kaladin: ...

Kaladin: Uh... How about: "My days in the bridge crews were horrible and dark. I barely survived. I lost a lot of friends. Good friends. It haunts me still. But now that I'm out, I've decided to live. And that means doing things that make me WANT to live."

Kaladin: "Like going out with you!"

Kaladin: [Looks at them expectantly]

Moash: Oh, Kal...

Lopen: Even your pretty face can't save that one, gon...

Skar: The thick tower line is looking better and better...

Kaladin: WELL YOU GUYS ARE THE ONES WHO BROUGHT IT UP

[fruitgummies01]

What a way to end the first season of AYS!!

I don't even know if I can even put into words what I'm feeling after watching the last episode of Are You Sure. Grateful? Devastated? Sad? Overjoyed? None of those words do justice to my emotions and overall feelings.

What a beautiful way to end this first season. We really got to witness just how much Jimin and Jungkook mean to each other, and it really made it clear to me why they chose to enlist together and not be separated. I can't believe we as fans got to spend such a precious amount of time with jikook right before the start of their military service.

There were so many moments during this last episode that made me emotional. Jimin tearing up on his way to wake Jungkook up on their last day, Jungkook (who we've seen repeatedly enjoying his love for beer) choosing not to drink so that he could drive them to the airport (and have that alone time), jikook reacting to the first episode of AYS and laughing so hard (to the point that Jungkook had to keep wiping the tears from his eyes🥹), Jungkook trying to cheer Jimin up on that last day, Jungkook saying that these trips with Jimin were the best of his entire life 😭, and even the subtle touches. 😩

The car rides. They got to spend so much of their time in the car driving just the two of them since they were constantly saying out loud just how long their drives were, but we only got to see a few minutes of it. I love so much that they had that time just the two of them.

Jimin's absolute love for Standing Next to You is so amazing to see (and also understandable lol). He sings it in almost every episode. It says something about Jimin as a person that he is so selflessly supportive.

Jimin at the end talking about how impactful their trips were to him and how they made him appreciate things like this again. Jungkook wanting to go back to the first day of their trip 🥺. Like Are You Sure meant so much to both of them they even included a clip of them saying their phrase "Are You Sure" on enlistment day 😭.

I am so thankful that Jimin and Jungkook got to show these sides of themselves in AYS, in a way that's different and unique from all the other BTS content. I feel like I got to know them on a deeper level watching their interactions and experiencing some of the joy they were so clearly feeling. I hope Jimin and Jungkook know just how much fans enjoyed watching every minute of their show and the amount of happiness they've given to fans, and I hope they decide to keep the same format going forward with future seasons!! 💜❤️

[local-limebug]

DBDA characters + formal desi attire: Charles and Edwin (Pt. 1)

This is not fanart, because I cannot draw, but if any fanartists want to use this as inspo, go ahead. And, before we begin, my fashion sense is not the best, so if any fellow desi people see this and have anything to add, go ahead. These aren't very detailed either tbh, because I am much more well versed in women's desi fashion than men's. Ok, now, let's go.

Charles Rowland

You know I had to start with my favourite desi boy of all time. I'm putting my man in a sherwani because he deserves it. Red's his colour, and it's also the colour associated with weddings in south asian culture, so yes, these pictures are technically bridegroom inspo.

So, I absolutely adore embroidered sherwanis, and I do think Charles would slay one of these beyond imagination. For full outfit references, see below.

Golden and red go together amazingly in desi wear, although they do usually denote wedding wear. But sherwanis fit so wonderfully on the shoulders + Charles' dangly gold earring would go so so well with the outfit !!

Edwin Payne

Yes, I'm imagining the British Raj era white boy in desi attire. Sue me. We all know blue's his colour, so of course I went for the blue sherwanis.

Now, blue and golden are an amazing colour combination and my original choice, because I wanted there to be a common colour between Charles and Edwin, but blue and silver/white was easier to find on Pinterest. You can see golden highlights on a few of these, though, and this next one.

This one is a bit plain but to be quite honest, it has a simple elegance to it that reminded me of Edwin. Its golden highlights mean that it would work best with golden trousers, like Charles' outfits up top.

BUT I also saw this amazing formal shalwar kameez in blue that I do think Edwin would look so so good in, so I have to add it here as a bonus idea.

+ Bonus Payneland

So, desi men's attire also has this thing where the sherwani itself is a muted colour and the man wears a cloth draped around himself in the highlighted colour (IDK what the cloth is called 😭). But I found these similar ones in blue/white and red/golden combo, and yes, it reminded me of Payneland.

LIKE. You can't tell me they wouldn't absolutely slay it. Like these are their wedding outfits to me, like for when they get married to each other.

Anyway, that's the limit for the pictures I can put on this post. Next one up is Crystal and Niko! I am so excited for Niko.

taglist because people seemed to want this and i don't want anyone to miss it. just say the word and i'll tag you for the next part: @queen-of-hobgobblers @mirabel-on-a-bicycle @shipspainfulships @read-write-thrive @justalunaticfangirl @guardianspirits13

[oscconfessions]

Now that the askbox is back open and it has been a couple weeks:

The II twist is good and you all are misinterpreting it

When Steve Cobs said 'Mephone didn't just make the show, he made you' he means that Mephone created the contestants as real living people of whom are equitable to original characters

This means YES you CAN SHIP MEPHONE WITH HIS CONTESTANTS as that's just like you shipping yourself with your oc.

THIS ACTION THAT MEPHONE DID WAS SOMETHING HE DIDN'T REALIZE HE WAS DOING. He unintentionally created the contestants with his powers. This is why when he is asked by Cobs 'Why (he) did it', he responds with a very confused sounding '...What?'. That means he didn't put thought into their flaws and attributes, all of those things were unintentional.

AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, THIS MEANS THAT ALL THE CHARACTERS ACTIONS ACTUALLY DO MATTER. They all ARE real people. The show IS REAL. Just because Cobs told them that Mephone created them doesn't mean that they are not real in universe.

ANOTHER THING!!! WHEN COBS IS TALKING ABOUT MEPHONE AS IF MEPHONE IS A CHILD, THIS IS A TACTIC USED BY ABLEIST PARENTS TO MAKE THEIR ADULT CHILDREN SEEM AS IF THEY NEED TO BE CONTROLLED BY THEM. THIS IS LITERALLY AN ABUSE TACTIC. Yes there are people who do need to have support from their parents but Mephone4 has been proven to be able to function without the help of Cobs. That being said, IF YOU BELIEVE MEPHONE IS A CHILD, YOU ARE BEING MANIPULATED BY STEVE COBS TOO!!! YOU ARE BELIEVING HIS LIES!!! Yes, Mephone4 has done actions that are very immature, but, get this, Mephone4 is very developmentally disabled!!! It's literally shown to be a trait of his throughout the entire show!!! He can't do the things other Mephones are able to do while at the same level as them! Mephone4 is developmentally disabled, and Steve Cobs is using that flaw to make it seem like he's a child, WHICH HE IS NOT, in order to gain control over him.

Now, onto my theory for the next part of ii16;

Cobs will use this information against Suitcase and Knife. Cobs will most definitely make it seem like Mephone has been lying to them all this time about the competition. Cobs will most definitely try to manipulate them to get what he wants; control over the show and therefore Mephone4's actions. Now I know for sure Knife will not get this easily swayed by Cobs; Knife's entire arc in season 2 has consisted of trying to get people to stop being manipulated by others. Suitcase however... as strong as she has been throughout the season and as strong as she's slowly gotten, I am still unsure on whether or not she'd be able to see through Cobs. Part of me believes that she'd immediately believe him and decide that the only good way things can 'end' is if Cobs has control over Mephone4.

Anyways. Really needed to get this off my chest bc Jesus mcfucking christ ppl's media comprehension is TERRIBLE!!!!!! Go outside and touch some grass!!!!!

thank you anon for saying what needed to be said-📻

[payidaresque]

i really don't think all galadriel feels is pride though. sure, her pride got hurt because sauron decieved her (and she trusted him), and she wants to slay him because she wants to say "i am nothing like you see me" (which is not entirely true, by the way), but her feelings are actually much more complex than that and it can't be categorized and narrowed down to one word. which is why i love her: she is just as complex as sauron

she trusted him. and as far as i've known this galadriel, trust is not something that comes easy to her. and she's not exactly a "chatty type" either, but somehow (let's put aside all the "evil incarnate" bs for a second, and just look at this as if it's a relationship between 2 normal people), she met someone (halbrand) who understood her, is probably as stubborn as her, someoone who didn't tell her what to do (and she's been told what to do by EVERYONE: elrond, gil-galad, her brother- and who knows who else), and just... accepted her for who she was? even tho they weren't nice to each other at first

halbrand helped her, she considered him a friend, they fought beside each other, she opened up to him about her feelings (which is not an easy thing to do even for a human, not to mention an elf). she felt the connection between them when he was just a human to her

so yeah, hurt pride is involved for sure, but beneath that is so much more: the pain, because galadriel feels like gave sauron too much and he exploited it, the anger, because she feels that even though she knows who sauron is now, she misses that feeling she had when he was halbrand, and she's not supposed to miss it, she's supposed to despise sauron and everything related to him now, but as i already explained in this post, she can't do that, because the connection they had (still have — but it's sort of a different connection now) is too strong, and it's fear because she also knows that not everything sauron said on that raft is a lie (which is partially confirmed by adar's speech from ep 6 by the way)

yes, she wants to slay sauron because he is a threat to her kind and all ME, but she also wants to slay him because in her mind, that way she'll be free of him and every feeling she has for him.

but whether it'll solve the matter or not, is actually up to Galadriel herself: slaying him won't change anything if she doesn't want to forget him

anyway. i love me a complex female character ✨

[cryptfile]

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

my masterlist

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

when I want to write something self indulgent to give me all the angsty and cuddly hurt/comfort feels but I can't because I end up feeling guilty because I'm seeking after feels that I feel in an inappropriate place because my mom told me one time when I was 15 that I shouldn't search that out or it's probably sexual sin but it confuses me because ALL the feels happen that way for me even if it's entirely platonic and nonsexual and so I don't know if it's okay to want to write to that because apparently all pleasure of any sort, even over platonic stories, is sexual or comes with a possibly probably sexual feeling and I also am having a hard time figuring out what's genuine conviction from God and what's just my anxiety/OCD/perfectionism/fear of failure

[pankowblues]

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: rafe suspiring you with tickets to germany but you're not sure if you can accept it but he reassures you

warning: nothing I think

word count: —

a/n: 2nd story about germany also sorry for not being so active my life is kinda in a really bad stage

You wake up with the same gnawing feeling that's been your unwelcome companion for months now. The room is dim, the shadows playing hide and seek with the early morning light that filters through the dusty blinds. Your alarm clock blinks the time - 6:30 AM - and you groan, rolling out of bed. You, a young woman with dreams as vast as the oceans but a wallet as thin as a single sheet of paper.

"Another day," you murmur to yourself, trying to shake off the heaviness. Your thoughts drift to Germany, a place you've always longed to visit. The vibrant culture, the rich history, the mouthwatering food - a world away from the dull routine of your small town. You've talked to Rafe Cameron about it often, your eyes lighting up with every detail you share. He's a good listener, always nodding along, his eyes reflecting the same enthusiasm you feel. But it's just talk, right? A poor girl like you going to Germany is as likely as winning the lottery.

You drag yourself to the kitchen, the scent of yesterday's dinner lingering in the air. As you boil water for instant coffee, you can't help but feel a pang of sadness. Rafe's life is so different from yours. His pockets are lined with opportunities and wealth, while you're scraping by, working two jobs just to make ends meet. You sigh, pouring the hot water into a mug. "It's not fair," you murmur to the empty room. But life rarely is.

The doorbell rings, jolting you out of your thoughts. You wipe your hands on a dishtowel and head to the door. Standing there, with the sun casting a halo around his head, is Rafe. He holds out a small envelope with your name scribbled on it. "What's this?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed. He smiles, a twinkle in his eye. "Open it," he says, stepping inside.

You do, and your heart skips a beat. Two airline tickets to Berlin stare back at you. "Rafe," you protest, "I can't let you do this." But he cuts you off, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "You've talked about this for so long. It's time for you to stop dreaming and start living." His voice is firm, but the concern etched on his face tells you he knows your fears. You look at the tickets again, feeling the weight of his gesture. It's tempting to give in, to let him make your dreams come true.

But you don't want to be that girl. The one who needs a knight in shining armor to pay her way. You've worked hard for every penny you have, and you've always prided yourself on your independence. You hand the envelope back to him. "I appreciate it, really. But I can't." His smile fades, and you see the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "You don't get it," you continue, "I need to do this on my own."

Rafe sighs, taking the envelope back. He sits down at your small kitchen table, gesturing for you to join him. "Look," he says, his tone softer now, "I know you're independent, and that's one of the things I admire most about you. But let's be real, if you keep working two jobs, saving every penny, you might not get there for another five years. I'm not trying to be your savior. I just want to give you a hand."

You nod, his words resonating deep within you. The allure of Germany is too strong, the promise of adventure too tantalizing. But the practicalities of your life are screaming at you. "What about my job?" you ask, worry creasing your brow. "I can't just leave. I need the money."

Rafe's expression turns understanding. He knew this would be your next concern. "Don't worry about that," he says, his voice a gentle assurance. "I've got it covered. You can take the time off without stressing." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a second envelope, placing it on the table between you. "This should cover your expenses while you're gone. I don't want you to miss out because of a job."

You stare at the envelopes, feeling torn. The thought of being in Rafe's debt is uncomfortable, like a pair of shoes that are just a size too small. You've always been the one to stand on your own two feet, and the idea of someone else carrying the financial burden of your dreams is foreign. "But how can I pay you back?" you ask, your voice small.

Rafe leans back in the chair, his gaze never leaving yours. "You don't have to pay me back," he says, his voice firm but kind. "Consider it an early birthday gift, or an investment in our relationship. Whatever makes you feel better."

You chew on your bottom lip, weighing his words. An investment in your relationship? That's a new angle. You look into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you find is earnestness. He really does want you to go. The idea of letting someone else take care of you, especially someone like Rafe, is both terrifying and exhilarating. You've always been so used to being the one in control, the one who makes things happen.

He must see the indecision on your face because he reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I know it's hard to accept help," he says, his thumb tracing circles on your knuckles. "But sometimes, you just have to let people in. Let them be there for you." His grip tightens slightly, as if willing you to understand.

You sit in silence for a moment, the ticking of the clock on the wall the only sound in the room. The envelopes seem to pulse with the rhythm of your racing heart, the promise of escape and adventure just within your grasp. Finally, you take a deep breath. "Okay," you murmur, feeling a knot in your stomach loosen slightly. "I'll go."

Rafe's smile is immediate and genuine, lighting up his whole face. "That's the spirit," he says, standing up and pulling you into a warm embrace. You can feel his excitement, his enthusiasm for you, for this trip, for what it could mean for the two of you. And for a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you can do this.

taglist: @rafecameroncoke, @0xstarzx0 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @v4mqvs , @aariahnaa, @congratsloserr

[lialuvsaven]

Pairing: Aventurine x reader

Tw: none, he's just skittish but that's understandable. Might have grammatical mistakes but English isn't my first language so whatever. The « » words are supposed to be the avgin dialect okok that's all

"Will you teach me how to speak the Avgin dialect?"

Aventurine nearly splutters out the sip of wine he was about to drink, and you observe as his whole body subtly jerks — trying to figure out if he misheard you or not.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

And yet, the only expression he sees on your face is a little smile, a hint of curiosity and optimism in those lovely eyes of yours. For some reason, he can't find it in him to appreciate that look this time.

"And why is that?" The tone of his voice is reserved, calculated, and for a millisecond, you are reminded of your job: meetings, negotiations and transaction. The air suddenly feels thicker, and although he maintains his usual smile, there's a subtle shift that suggests it may not be as genuine as it was moments ago.

"Because I….want to understand you?" You naively respond, unaware of the warnings you're triggering in his head, unaware of the amount of bells ringing in his ears. The red alarms flashing in front of his eyes are bright, and they blind him to everything else, drowning out your silhouette until he can't make out your face as a familiar one.

All he's seeing is red, red of a warning bell, red of sunset and endings, red of blood and—

"I'm not sure why you even thought that would be a good idea" a small chuckle leaves his mouth, and he shifts a little on the couch in an attempt to regain his belongings.

"After all, I don't even speak it anymore— a dead language is not something you'd benefit from learning."

"But I am a linguist" You counter, huffing a bit. "I wouldn't think a language is “less beneficial” just because it's dead. Besides, Sigonian isn't a dead language, and neither is the Avgin dialect. You are here, and you speak it."

Blink.

"What?" Aventurine grows defensive, and he shifts in his seat again; only a little. It's not okay to let others know of your discomfort, you cannot show your weaknesses. Luckily, you don't notice, and he continues carefully.

"I don't speak it— what are you saying? How could I possibly use that language?"

He picks his sentences with caution, leaving half of it up in the air for you to interpret. He can't bring himself to finish it— he can't use it when everyone else who spoke of it is presumably dead. That would only result in another restless night of futile attempts at subduing the void in his heart. Just because he knows it, doesn't mean he likes to think of it.

Aventurine does not like to remember the fact that he's the only one left of the Avgins, even though the cosmos is merciless in its reminders.

"You do speak it!!" You insist, and look into his eyes, and his eyes almost make you forget the rest of your sentence. "—You say things under your breath. When things go south, or when your catcakes do something super adorable and you can't hold a grin on your face. I've seen you multiple times, talking to yourself in an unfamiliar language. It is your mother tongue, is it not?"

Ah.

The words that escape your lips are curling into itself, flickering through the corners of his mind. I've seen you multiple times. Multiple times. Multiple times. Talking to yourself. To yourself. To yourself.

His mother tongue.

Oh, how he wishes he could talk to someone else, how he longs to talk to another Avgin in his mother tongue— in their mother tongue.

"Do I do that?" He inquires, and you affirm, still wearing a smile. Both of you have been smiling at each other, but only one of you is clawing through the walls of their mind trying their best not to leave the room right this moment. You're not an adversary, he reminds himself. You're not an enemy.

"I can't teach you that." He stares in an unusually cold tone, sending shivers down your spine. A tone Aventurine reserves for when a business deal has gone wry, for when he needs to put on his best performance and come back at the top. Unfortunately, this means there's no room for you to argue, no negotiations, no nothing.

You realize a bit too late that you've made him uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry" Apologies keep flowing from your mouth, but Aventurine can barely hear them. All he knows is the warning bells in his ears are growing fainter, and you are once more becoming recognizable, the blur in your face diminishing by the second.

"It's okay," he laughs softly, ruffling your hair to dispel the gloom on your face.

"I don't remember much anyway- I can't teach you anything meaningful, you know? I think Tanti or any of the likes would do much better for your next research material than my native language. We have a reputation across the cosmos anyway, that language can't be intriguing to people."

"Huh?" You tilt your head in confusion, "I'm not going to write a paper on it though???"

"Then what did you want to learn it for?"

"Did you not hear me? I said I wanted to get to know you better."

The feeling of discomfort is back with that, and Aventurine finds himself trying to figure out how to come up with a valid excuse to end the conversation. If he isn't careful, you'll catch on. And if you catch on, you'll keep insisting on trying to understand him, to mend your mistakes and to avoid something similar in future. Then, he'd simply have to cut you off before you go too far. And he'd rather not cut you off and keep you by his side. Yes please, thanks.

You speak once more, but this time you avert your gaze from his eyes and focus on the soft carpet beneath your feet. "If you're not comfortable teaching me, I won't insist. I apologize if I overstepped. I want you to know that my intentions were not malicious. I simply wanted to learn your language so that we could converse in it, and I'm open to sharing my own language with you if you're interested."

Ah. You've now started to speak with more formal and eloquent words than usual, a habit Aventurine has picked up on thanks to observing you for so many years. You always do that when nervous, along with averting eye contact- and you're now anxious.

"it's okay," he reassures you again. "I know what you mean. So no need to worry, hm?"

His words seem to have given you a confidence boost, because your next words catch him off guard again.

"Also, I found your language to be quite beautiful."

"....Beautiful?"

"Yes," you gesture with your hands as you continue, "it's very melodious, you know? I'm familiar with the Sigonian language, as it was one of the languages I studied during my major. However, the Avgin dialect sounds... different. Of course, you're a very quiet mumbler—obviously— and I couldn't understand much- but I've realized that the Avgin is not only is not only significantly different from standard Sigonian, but it also has a much sweeter sound. As a linguist, it's disheartening to think that this sweetness has gone unnoticed by the world."

The initial panic has completely dissipated for Aventurine, replaced by a sadness even he can't place what for. He has half a mind to laugh, and tell you that his people were sweet too, but no one cared for that either. He wants to say of course it sounded sweeter, the standard Sigonian had always been dry and lacking the warmth, any Avgin would agree with you. And yet, he dares not let the dam loose.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he decides to observe you, as the ringing in his ears has now completely silenced. The you in front of his eyes is meek, likely because you've assumed you overstepped and made him upset. He hates seeing that expression on you: truly, especially when you shouldn't have to feel that guilt. He knows you well enough to know you're not lying, and for a split second— he entertains the idea of sharing the sweetness of his language with you, to have someone else who can understand his tongue.

He decides it's not an entirely uncomfortable thought.

It has been a few weeks since he agreed to teach you the Avgin dialect, and he still finds it surprising that he made that decision. Everything related to the Avgins and their culture is dear to him, including his people, his family, and of course, kakavasha; he protects them with all of his being. However, for some reason, he has chosen to share this delicate and intimate part of himself with you. After all, he is the last known surviving Avgin—this is more than personal; it's his mother tongue, for goodness' sake!

You've proven yourself to be a very very dedicated student, absorbing every piece of information he imparts like a sponge. Aventurine is unsure of how to teach you, as he himself is losing touch with his language thanks to not speaking it for years. Because of you, he now thinks more in Avgin and realizes how much he thought he had forgotten but still remembered, and how much he thought he remembered but had forgotten.

But it's nice, to be greeted in his language whenever you two come across each other. You're still cheerful and sparkling as before, but now you can greet him in his language. «Hello, how's your day going!!!» You ask him each time, with that accent and broken words that makes you sound childish more than anything. But Aventurine could care less about that; he's quick to greet you back each time, adding a new word so you learn something from each interaction.

You've told him that he's much much more expressive whenever speaking Avgin, but he tries not to think about it.

"Manro means bread," Aventurine informs you, observing quietly as you eagerly jot it down in your notepad. "I quite like the feel of pen and paper," you told him once, and he still can't comprehend why that's preferable to typing on a screen instead.

"Mañro?" you repeat, and he has to conceal an affectionate smile at your accent. It's unfamiliar and odd, but not disliked. Never disliked.

"Manro." He corrects, and you get it down this time.

"So….«manro» means bread and you said…«pani» meant water? So let's say I wanna talk about my lunch….«I water with bread eat?» Is that how you say it?"

Aventurine purses his lips, trying to appear serious. "No, it's «I ate bread with water.» But what's with that meal choice? That can't be good for you."

You only huff in response, "hey— I'm still learning okay!! How do you say wine?"

"Mol"

"Mol— how about wanting to drink or taste?"

Aventurine raises an eyebrow, "Zumavel"

"Okok. So…. «I want to taste wine really bad. Might die.»"

Aventurine snickers at that, turning his gaze away to avoid receiving another punch from you. Despite the fact that you've opted for this inefficient learning method—since he can't provide proper grammar lessons—the sentences you're coming up with are hilarious.

"Not quite. It's «I want to drink wine so bad that I might die»" he corrects you again, and you let out an embarrassed laugh to write the correct structure down. You've promised him you'll figure out the grammatical structure and everything to him after all. And he can't say he's not hoping you actually will.

"How do you say eye?"

"Just like how you say in standard Sigonian"

"Ohhh….I've noticed that body part names are usually unchanged in the Avgin dialect. How about warmth?"

"We call it tato" he smiles at you, and your cheeks tint the faintest hue of pink as you look away.

"«Your eyes—»" you purse your lips, thinking hard to form the structure "«-Are warm right now. Very warm.»"

Aventurine's eyes widen, and for a moment he's speechless; unable to comprehend how and why. But you're blushing, and playing with the hem of your shirt, which means at the very least you aren't lying.

«I'm afraid you've become my heart» He says under his breath, the words escaping his mouth before he can even stop them. It tastes sweet in his tongue, memories of a time long gone resurfacing. He didn't even remember that saying, up until now. And now, he has a little more understanding of how sweet his mother tongue really is.

"What does that mean?" You ask him, and he merely smiles at that.

"Nothing. I just said thank you."

A/N : gah I'm sorry for that word vomit I can't stop thinking about it....like one been thinking for months about his language and what it might mean for him now that he's (presumably) the only avgin left. My mother tongue has PLENTY of dialects, and there are certain ones that are totally different from the standard (I don't understand some of those) so I kind of projected....and other than that I hope it wasn't too bad omg

[scintillyyy]

actually it is interesting how dixon has tim discover his feelings for steph over the course of and in contrast to what was ultimately his failing relationship with ari & like. listen i'm not here ti cast judgment on either tim or steph here, but it was very much written by dixon as like. steph knowingly was very pushy about wanting to be in a relationship with tim even knowing he was actively in a relationship and fundamentally did not care about tim's girlfriend as a human being because steph saw tim being in a relationship already as basically minor inconvience because she wanted tim & tim clearly seemed to want her so he should just be with her instead. and like tim's hands clearly aren't entirely clean here either, because he did kind of ultimately just going with the flow and letting things happen. (but!! i am on the side of both of them are messy teens in their first relationships & neither deserves lifelong castigation for 14-15 year old messiness, let's be clear). but the circumstances around this messiness even being able to happen is because ariana is fundamentally unable to truly know what's going on as she's never privy to the secret. she had no way of knowing what tim is doing or who he's meeting--sure she gets jealous when she sees tim notice steph, but she never knows that there's another girl in tim's life exists & can't know. meanwhile the whole time steph is flirting with tim she is well aware that ariana, or "tim's girlfriend" exists. tim & steph exist because at the time of his relationship with ari, tim was allowed to actively and consistently interact with another girl while actively in a relationship with another one & steph was well aware and a participant in that.

and that's kind of by design--dixon, i do think dixon fairly early on decided that he was more interested in tim&steph over tim&ari, but i do think it's important to note that when dixon created ari he's on the record of conceiving of her as a lois lane type romance interest for tim, she was clearly originally intended to have long term sticking power for him. but then--*readers* didn't vibe with her. there's letters in old issues basically asking--"hey, is steph going to come back, hey is steph going to date tim, hey love steph when are they getting together". so while dixon got fully on board with tim & steph i think it's safe to say he was also. probably very cognizant of readers deciding they like a different love interest better.

so there's an interesting pivot in dixon once tim & steph are firmly on the "getting together" train and it's that tim is not allowed to exist of breathe near other female characters without being chaperoned by steph or it involving steph somehow in deference to steph's jealousy issues. with steph's entrance into tim's life, tim is moved away from the mixed more sex friend group (that existed with callie & ariana) of gotham heights high to 1) homeschooling in keystone 2) all male boarding school brentwood. the only female friendship he gains is star, and that's used in a story for steph to misunderstand and start stalking star and her brother in an attempt to find tim & catch him in the act. tim is no longer allowed to team up with girls his age or a little older without stephanie there. he's not even allowed to be concerned about random adult woman dana (his stepmom) without steph breathing down his neck despite the fact that once they start dating tim is doggedly pretty loyal to steph as far as girls were, far more than he ever was with ariana. & like. in universe this is an interesting character beat for steph considering the start of their relationship being that steph pushed tim while he was in a relationship & is paranoid of all other women, that they'll act like she did. but from an out of universe perspective you can tell dixon was absolutely shutting down any other relationship possibility for tim other than steph. he knew the pain of creating a love interest that got subsumed in interest by another and was under no circumstances going to let anyone else in that that could become a threat to his girl. hence, every time he teams up with a girl after steph has to be there, monitoring & chaperoning. which is very interesting. considering their beginnings and steph's own willingness to hang out with a guy known to be taken without his girlfriend there & her eventual disallowment of tim to do anything with girls who aren't her.