#but it feels like every time i see a post that just leaves me with a sour taste in my mouth

[cryptwrites]

It started as a joke.

A few of us, sitting around a cheap card table in my crumbling apartment, brainstorming ways to pay rent without actually working. The scam was simple: create a fake religion, prey on the gullible, and rake in some easy cash.

We called it The Order of Cythra, a name pulled out of thin air by my roommate, Toby, who thought it sounded “cryptic and legit.” We scribbled down some nonsense about Cythra being the god of renewal and hidden wisdom, created a website, and bought some dollar-store candles for the “rituals.”

At first, it was harmless fun. A few Reddit posts here, some vague TikToks there, and suddenly we had people donating. Not much—just twenty bucks here and there—but enough to cover bills and groceries.

Then things got... strange.

It started with the emails. Testimonials flooded our inbox from people claiming Cythra had spoken to them in dreams. A woman wrote about how her chronic migraines disappeared after chanting one of our made-up prayers. Another claimed their barren garden had suddenly burst into bloom.

We laughed it off at first. Toby even joked that we should hire a PR agent.

But then the dreams started.

It was always the same. I stood in a vast, desolate wasteland beneath a broiling, blood-red sky. A towering figure loomed in the distance, its body shifting between forms—human, deer, shadow. Its voice echoed in my head, not in words, but in feelings: hunger, anger, and something worse.

One night, I woke up to find the word Cythra carved into my arm, not by my own hand but by something else. I confronted Toby and the others, but their faces were pale. They were worried, like I had done something to them.

We tried to shut it down. Deleted the website, pulled down the TikToks, and stopped all donations. But the followers didn’t go away. If anything, they grew more fervent. They showed up at my apartment, chanting in unison, their eyes glassy and strange. They called me High Priest.

Then the first miracle happened.

One of the followers, a man in his sixties, collapsed on my doorstep during one of their late-night vigils. His heart had stopped. I panicked and reached out to him instinctively, yelling for someone to call 911. The moment my hand touched his chest, I felt a searing heat shoot through my arm. His body jolted, and his eyes snapped open.

The followers fell to their knees.

I slammed the door, trembling, my palm still burning. When I looked, there was a black symbol etched into my skin—a sigil I’d never seen before but somehow understood.

Cythra was real.

The days that followed were a blur. The followers proclaimed me as their leader, and no matter how much I tried to resist, they wouldn’t leave me alone. More people came to me for healing, and each time, the sigil on my palm burned brighter. I didn’t know what I was doing, but it always worked. Broken bones knit together. Tumors withered away. One woman even claimed her blind son could see again.

But with every miracle, I felt a piece of myself slipping away.

The dreams became more vivid. Cythra spoke now, its voice a low rumble that made my teeth ache. It demanded more worshippers, more faith, more sacrifices.

One night, I woke to find Toby standing over my bed, a knife in his hand and a vacant look in his eyes. He muttered something about “offering blood to Cythra.” I fought him off, but he slit his own throat before I could stop him. The followers found his body the next morning and cheered.

They said his death would “bring Cythra fully into our world.”

I tried to run. Packed a bag and fled to the nearest bus station. But as soon as I stepped outside, I saw them— hundreds of followers, all chanting in unison, their faces lit by the flickering of candles. The air was thick with the smell of sulfur.

The ground beneath their feet began to crack.

The last thing I remember before everything went black was the sky splitting open, and a monstrous, shifting form descending from the heavens.

Now I sit on a blackened throne in a temple I never built, my body barely my own. The sigil on my palm has spread, covering my arms, chest, and face. I can no longer close my eyes without seeing its form, nor speak without its words spilling from my mouth like black, molded bile.

I am the High Priest of Cythra, a forgotten god reborn through my foolishness.

And I know, deep down, that when it is finished with this world, it will consume me too.

You started a scam religion for a quick buck. You begin to panic when your fake god was actually a real forgotten one awakened from new worshippers, declared you it's high priest, and granted you the power of healing.

[shomatoriashi]

01/11/25; 11:10am

caleb x fem.reader | mc.reader

notes: another spicy yet fluffy post inspired by one of the caleb cards infold had teased (⺣◡⺣)♡ this is nowhere close to canon, but my own daydreams based on the crumbs that i have seen so far ♡

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

{ burning photos, had to learn to let go | i used to be somebody in another skin... }

unbidden pain was seen settled deep within caleb's gaze, hands shaking as he traces your features with his fingertips. unlike the first time when you were first captured, his hands didn't grip at your shoulders with a bruising strength. his touches now felt like gossamer against your skin-

touches that were no heavier than dew.

you close your eyes, finding yourself leaning into his touch as your heart began to steadily race from within the confines of your chest. even if caleb was different now, somehow, you knew that deep down he was the same caleb who had protected you all those years ago. breathing in his scent, you allow the tip of your nose to trace at the palm of his hand, earning a sharp inhale from your childhood friend.

"pipsqueak, you should get some sleep now." you open your eyes upon hearing his soft command, meeting his amethyst gaze. unlike your reunion with him, caleb's eyes were no longer guarded, filled with a coldness that chilled you to your very core-

now that it was just you and him, you could see the warmth returning back into his eyes,

a warmth that had never truly left when it came to you.

with a soft sigh, you lean forward to press a kiss against his closed eyelids, relishing in the way he shudders against you. the soft sensation of your lips lingering against his skin causes him to let out a series of pitiful whimpers (the sound managing to pierce through your very heart.)

delving your fingertips into his hair, you softly tease him, "look at you. you're like a sinner who's confessing."

caleb shakes his head while taking a hold of your hand, rubbing your fingertips against his lips in a reverent manner while whispering, "then, can you carry a little bit of this sin too? don't leave me in this loneliness any longer."

you answer back to his pleas without words, gently wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him down into the bed with you. as if in tune to your every desire, caleb's lips meet with yours in a chaste kiss that hides the burning passion he felt for you. you shyly move your lips against his, opening up to him the moment you felt his tongue tracing at your bottom lip.

his kisses turn hungrier just then, pressing your body close to his hard chest while allowing his tongue to explore your mouth, tongues fighting for dominance as he greedily tastes you. with trembling hands, caleb breaks off the kiss first, laying you back within the bed before hurriedly peeling off the layers of his uniform.

your name escapes from his parted lips in a needy grunt, hands unable to stop shaking even as they gripped at the ends of your shirt before sliding it off of you. his deep violet gaze was hidden by a veil of darkness, with caleb taking a hold of your hand to press a lingering kiss at the back of it, "you don't know how long i've waited for this... have waited for you to see me as something more than just a friend."

"caleb-"

he shakes his head, surging forward to swallow the rest of your words with a searing kiss. "hush, don't speak... only feel."

the minutes go by, with each and every article of clothing falling from your respective forms before landing in a pile beside the bed. you were left trembling now, subjected to caleb's awed gaze as his fingers gently prod and pulled at your hardened nipples. a series of mewls comes out of you, earning a low growl of approval from caleb. "do you know how long i've fantasized about this? how long i've fantasized about having you beneath me while writhing in pleasure?"

your mouth goes dry upon hearing his question, watching him with a dazed expression when he takes off your final piece of clothing. gripping at the waistband of your panties, he pulls it down within mere seconds. tossing the flimsy fabric to the side, caleb lays between your thighs, treating as though it were his own homecoming when he reveals your slick folds to heated gaze.

"beautiful, you're so beautiful and all mine." those words were all you could hear before caleb dives into you, moving his head between your legs as his tongue laps up your lingering arousal. groaning at the taste of your sweetness, you felt the way caleb's tongue travels directly into your slick folds, drinking up all you had to offer as your back arches against the bed. your hands automatically delve into his hair, hanging on to dear life as the onslaught of pleasure became too much to bear.

"c-caleb, i feel w-weird... it's like- oh!" a sudden pinch felt against your bundle of nerves makes you cry out, feeling your walls clench around caleb's tongue before releasing your fluids into his awaiting mouth. the sounds of his groans vibrates against you, causing another wave of pleasure to course through your veins.

"ngh, fuck. that was way better than i could have ever imagined." it takes caleb a herculean effort to remove himself from between your legs, with him licking at his lips while meeting your gaze. gripping at your thighs, he pulls your naked body closer to his, making you feel the tip of his erection brushing against your wet folds. focused solely on chasing your high now, you wrap your legs around caleb's lower back, locking him into place as his tip was felt sinking into your heat.

letting out a string of curses, caleb picks you up, settling you on his lap while guiding your waist down on him. you purse your lips, feeling the tears prick at the corner of your eyes when you had to take caleb's girthy cock inch by painstaking inch, gasping once he was fully sheathed inside of you.

"you're mine... you're mine." unable to wait for even another second, his thrusts were filled with a desperation as he uses your cunt to stroke at his cock, the sounds of your copulation echoing throughout the room as bites down against the base of your throat, "and if i can't have you, then no one can. you'll forever belong to me."

being too drunk off of the pleasure of finally becoming one with the boy you had always seen as your first love, you eagerly take everything he had to offer, never once stopping even as dawn breaks through the dark clouds...

end notes: hahaha i'm in trouble... sylus, save me sylus, save meeeee 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Hola. Long rambling feedback behind the cut as well as

When he meets you, he hasn’t even thought of picking up a pencil in years. Ever since you’ve been at the mansion though, Logan’s fingertips twitch with the urge to start sketching your features every time he’s with you. It gets hard to ignore after a few days.

I think this is so beautiful. Anyone who is a creative knows how difficult it can be to find a muse. So for this person to inspire a twitch in Logan after YEARS? That's just a very beautiful thing.

He waits until he’s known you a few weeks, there’s no way in hell he’d ask if he could draw you. He’d probably embarrass you by asking, and embarrass himself by admitting he’s into fucking art. That’s not him.  Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring. 

And this is for BOTH 1) thinking it's not ok to be into art??? OK BUT CAVEMEN CARVED INTO WALLS, SIR and 2) "you're nothing if not inspiring" *screamingggggggggggggggggggg*

The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises.  Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing. 

I love that this fits with the Logan I know, the demand on self for perfectionism and the refusal to accept anything but. But it's especially important cuz he wants to do right by YOU/HER. *swoon*

And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more. 

Sigh. Oh Logan. Always thinking he's not worthy while he holds everyone he cares about up on pedestals. I both adore him and wanna shake him for these habits.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He gets Rogue to show him Instagram for reference photos. HOW CUTE!

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite. 

This is soooooooooooooooo beautiful. It is just a loud beacon of what Logan's heart really is. It's also really precious that he finally produces a drawing of her that he's satisfied with which then produces ANGST in him. Cuz he can't leave it out cuz what if people see? But he doesn't want to hide it cuz what if it smudges? Watching him go back and forth about it and the STRESS shows how much it means to him not to mess it up but ALSO, I think, how much it means to him to be back drawing. As a creative who goes through the longest dry patches, when a period of productivity comes up? OH DO I WANT TO HANG ONTO IT. And probably try so hard that I make it slip through my fingers.

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again.  He could give it to you. 

DO IT LOGANNNNNNNN!

Logan knows his drawing isn’t objectively a masterpiece, but if he’s proud of it he has to acknowledge that that probably means it’s at least decent. And you’re definitely the type of person to appreciate something like this. It’s weird admitting to himself that he’s even proud of what he’s drawn; he’s done so much in this world, who cares about a little drawing? 

YOU care, sir! And people who love you will SEE that and care too!!! Don't we all wish he valued himself and his opinions more.

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him.

It's so precious to me, how relatable this is. Anyone who is a creative can relate, I'm sure. How nervous creatives are before they publish or they post or they even just share with someone they are close to. I wanna hug him.

He knows it’s stupid to hide but he just can’t. He decides he’ll leave the drawing in your room in an envelope, maybe a pink one to show you it’s not a creepy threat but meant as a sign of adoration, from someone who couldn’t resist but try to recreate your beauty. He won’t write his name on it, he just wants you to have it.  Sappy motherfucker. 

Some day, someone needs to tell him he can give himself permission to BE sappy. Corny is part of life and it's a blessing.

He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door.  So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart.  It’s soo stupid. 

It's annoying to read Logan's antiquated views on masculinity here. Completely understand that it fits with his character and how he has aged and evolved but omggggggggggg, it's just frustrating lol

You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

The way we can convince ourselves of the worst possible outcome, eh? *smh*

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing.  You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.” 

SHE IMMEDIATELY TREATED IT AS SOMETHING PRECIOUS!!! SHE WANTED TO PROTECT IT JUST LIKE LOGAN WANTED TO PROTECT IT!!! BUT SHE LOVES IT TO THE POINT SHE MADE HERSELF A COPY TO CARRY IT AROUND WITH HER AT ALL TIMES!!!!!

“I don’t know, just, so beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not pretty or anything, but this looks… I don’t look like that. I wish I did. I can’t believe someone actually sees me like that. It’s stupid but I….” You trail off and, conveniently, the toast is done at the same time and you move on to that.  But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?”  You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

To see the similarities in how they DON'T see themselves fully is kind of sweet and makes me root for them.

“I cried when I first saw it yesterday. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And it’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, for someone to perceive me in such an artistic way.”  The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created. 

He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing. 

This is HILARIOUS and KILLING ME because I also make rules for MYSELF that are different from the rules I have for EVERYONE ELSE lmao

He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy. 

Logan being an Acts of Service person makes ALL the sense in the world to me.

But of course now that he knows it means something to you, he can’t get anything right. He draws your hair too curly, then not curly enough. He draws your nose too big, then too small. Your eyes end up crooked. He can’t erase too much because it’ll look sloppy, so even the drawing he gets almost perfect, he ruins with a few final additions at the end. 

The curse of the sequel! I think a lot of creatives can relate to this type of self induced pressure which means nothing you produce is good enough.

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.” He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

She already has a frame for the new drawing cuz the frames came in packs of 2 and she will NOT STAND for someone not absolutely FAWNING over it and I love that from her. It's doing Logan's heart SO good to see how much she adores what he's created.

If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you. Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

It was the stupidest joke of all that made you really laugh, some dumb comparison between Xavier and Caillou. You probably wouldn’t even giggle at it anymore now, but in the moment it was so funny you almost spat out your drink from the deep belly laugh he drew from you, holding onto his bicep so you wouldn’t fall over as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. He wanted to engrave the image on his soul. At least he got your smile on paper.

Our man is S-M-I-T-T-E-N and I love that for him. Cuz look what it's brought back into his life?

“I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it. “No one else knows.” You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

This is so intimate. And he's finally comfortable all the way with her. She knows it's him and he's fine with her knowing it's him.

You don’t know how to put your feelings into words, so you’re kissing him instead. He pulls you down so that you’re not hovering over but sitting on his lap, and the mood immediately shifts to something different. Logan doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’re ready then he’ll take anything he can get.

I appreciate that Logan is just the tiniest bit "selfish" here because this has been such an emotionally taxing ordeal for him. And she really really admires his talent and is THRILLED that it's him and that he sees her the way that he does.

From here the story slips into the Rated R portion of the story which is both hot and very sweet. The buildup means that I feel a genuine connection and intimacy between the 2 that feels "earned," if that's the right word. Cuz it doesn't feel forced or rushed or like we skipped a whole bunch of stuff to get here.

I also love that there's open dialogue. Often, the only talk between lovers is dirty - which I am a big fan of and absolutely fine with - but that here we have sweet confessions, constant check ins, and reassurances; these all fit with the journey we've been on with these two and I just really enjoy that aspect.

There's also good dirty talk, balanced give and take and praaaaaaaaaaaaise which I enjoy thoroughly. Logan also tends to take the possessive "my girl" over and over which just melts my butter!

@selfcarecap thank you so much for creating and sharing this! Thank you for following YOUR muse through to the end of this tale and then being brave enough to slip it under all our doors *bad dum tss* I really loved this look at Logan, his vulnerabilities, his abilities and desires beyond his powers / "job" and what allowing himself to create ultimately gifted him with. Well done smut that I also very much enjoyed too.

And thank you to K for putting it on my dash!

MUSE [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them. 

warnings: smut 18+ but with an actual plot for once (brief m masturbation, oral f and m rec, unprotected piv sex, kind of accidental (but consensual obv) facial; pet names: bub, baby, good girl, princess), soft!Logan but he won’t admit it, also soft!reader, fluff (although the summary makes it sounds a bit more dramatic than it is tbh), implication that reader has curly hair, implied mutant/X-men!reader, (obviously the pic doesn’t represent the envelopes Logan uses lol he’s not doing all that)

word count: 7.3k

also i feel the need to say something about the fact that it’s Hugh Jackman’s birthday today lol so uh thanks for being huge jacked man and for giving us our Logan yay <3 | gorgeous divider by @plutism

It’s everything Logan is the opposite of – he would never tell a soul – but over the course of his long life, Logan has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. It’s not really him, but he did have a phase or two.

When he meets you, he hasn’t even thought of picking up a pencil in years. Ever since you’ve been at the mansion though, Logan’s fingertips twitch with the urge to start sketching your features every time he’s with you. It gets hard to ignore after a few days.

He waits until he’s known you a few weeks, there’s no way in hell he’d ask if he could draw you. He’d probably embarrass you by asking, and embarrass himself by admitting he’s into fucking art. That’s not him. 

Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring. 

He gives in to the urge to get out pencil and paper again, waiting until everyone else has gone to sleep. The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises. 

Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing. 

He picks out a few other things to draw then, to ease the pressure that comes with drawing the woman he… is friends with. Yeah, you’re a friend. And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more. 

But after a few nights he feels more confident in his drawing skills again, but still, as much as he can picture you in his mind – he can do that absolutely perfectly – he’s not too sure he could really draw you accurately.

So he gets Rogue to show him how goddamn fucking Instagram works so that he can look at some of your pictures and use them as a model. 

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He can’t believe it, but the first time he seriously attempts to draw you, it’s perfect. It’s a small drawing, not even as big as his palm, capturing your gorgeous face. He thinks of adding another few lines to your eyebrows, or to your hair or another small one to the outline of your lips, but he doesn’t want to mess with it. 

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite. 

He hides the drawing in between the pages of a book, and hides the book under a pile of random clutter on his desk that not even he would normally spare a glance at. But when he lies down to go to sleep, he gets all the stuff out again and gets out the drawing. He wants to see it again. And he can’t leave it there anyway, what if the pressure from all the items on top of it smudges it? 

But he doesn’t know what else to do with it. He can’t really have a drawing of you sitting in his room. What if someone sees? Then what is he gonna do with it instead? 

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again. 

He could give it to you. 

Logan knows his drawing isn’t objectively a masterpiece, but if he’s proud of it he has to acknowledge that that probably means it’s at least decent. And you’re definitely the type of person to appreciate something like this. It’s weird admitting to himself that he’s even proud of what he’s drawn; he’s done so much in this world, who cares about a little drawing? 

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him. To see the side that has him staying up until 3AM to finely trace the lines of someone’s eyelashes and cheekbones and lips, the side that makes him feel calm inside. 

He knows it’s stupid to hide but he just can’t. He decides he’ll leave the drawing in your room in an envelope, maybe a pink one to show you it’s not a creepy threat but meant as a sign of adoration, from someone who couldn’t resist but try to recreate your beauty. He won’t write his name on it, he just wants you to have it. 

Sappy motherfucker. 

He puts the small drawing back into the book and carefully pushes it between his mattress and the bedframe to protect it during the night. God, who even is he – protecting a tiny piece of paper? He groans at himself as he turns around to go to sleep. 

He dreams of making a thousand drawings of you, with you as his live model. His muse. 

You’re his girlfriend in his dream, he thinks. 

He’s sitting in a chair in your room, drawing you as you tell him about your day. You’re lying on your bed on your tummy, elbows propped up to support your head. You’re gently kicking your feet in the air behind you, wearing nothing but a t-shirt of Logan’s, some silly graphic socks, panties with little cherries on them, and a bright, bashful smile as Logan attempts to capture your glowing features in a sketch block he’s dedicated to drawings of you. 

He wakes up with morning wood. 

Logan is no stranger to jerking off with you on his mind, so he spits in his hand and slips it beneath his boxers, stroking himself as he thinks of you. He imagines you on top of him as he jerks his cock, imagines you under him, or with your legs around his head, or you between his knees on the floor. He cums quickly and hard, leaving his boxers wet and sticky.

He goes for a run after he’s dealt with it and picks up an envelope on his way. He’s doubting himself but he knows he has to just do it. He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door. 

So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart. 

It’s soo stupid. 

He makes sure no one is anywhere near your bedroom, walks up to your door, and slides the envelope underneath. Except he didn’t check if you were in your room. As soon as the envelope disappears beneath your door, he hears a short creak from your bed and your soft footsteps. 

He hears the small and adorable noise of curiosity you let out – a confused hm? – and then he quickly and quietly makes his way down the hallway. He hears your voice about ten seconds later, an intrigued hello? as you open the door, but you don’t investigate further, closing the door behind you. 

Logan’s heart is beating so fast. He’s never doing this shit again. 

He’s antsy all day, waiting for some type of reaction from you. Except you don’t know that the drawing is from him so he’s probably not even getting one, and he can’t conspicuously come to your room the same day you receive an anonymous drawing of yourself. 

It’s also when the insecurity settles in. Maybe he should have added a few more lines or started the entire drawing anew. Who does he think he is pretending to be an artist? 

He shakes those thoughts off as he starts training with the punching bag in the gym. It’s not something that he necessarily needs to train, but it gets rid of some of that pointless energy. This isn’t him, worried about some lines he drew on a piece of paper – a scrap of a paper, really. Who cares about something like that? Certainly not him. 

He sleeps dreamlessly and wakes up the next day disappointed that he didn’t get to dream about being your boyfriend again. God, what are you doing to him? Making him think about being boyfriend and girlfriend. He’s pathetic. You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

-

He’s not even thinking of the drawing anymore, truly, when he walks into the kitchen the next morning. It only comes to mind when he sees you, alone in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to scroll on your phone, your weird green coffee (“it’s Matcha, Logan”) next to you as you stir it mindlessly with a metal straw. 

“Hi,” you look up with one of those sweet smiles of yours, but redirect your attention to your phone. 

At least you don’t immediately say something like hey, you know that drawing you slid under my door? It was so ugly I threw it away. Since when do you even draw? 

Not that he was worried you would or anything. He hasn’t been thinking about it. Obviously. Why would he? And he knows you would never expect that it’s him; that’s the only reason he did it. He never would have given you the drawing if he thought you could have even the slightest inkling that Logan would be someone who draws. But he still wants to know what you think of it. 

“You want some toast too?” You ask, putting your phone down and turning to get some bread. He sits down at the other side of the kitchen counter and as his eyes flicker to your green drink (he still doesn’t get it), he sees it. 

“Is that–” my drawing, he almost said, “What is that?” He pretends to be confused, drawing his eyebrows together, trying his best to look inquisitive, “No toast by the way, thanks.” 

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing. 

“Did you draw it?” He asks. 

You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.” 

“Secret admirer?” 

Smiling, you say, “I don’t know. I won’t get my hopes up. But the person must definitely be fond of me to draw me like that.” 

“Like what?” He asks, unsure if he’s about to be offended. 

“I don’t know, just, so beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not pretty or anything, but this looks… I don’t look like that. I wish I did. I can’t believe someone actually sees me like that. It’s stupid but I….” You trail off and, conveniently, the toast is done at the same time and you move on to that. 

But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?” 

You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

Logan stays silent. He can’t seem too pushy and draw attention to himself, but his silence makes you confess.

“I cried when I first saw it yesterday. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And it’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, for someone to perceive me in such an artistic way.” 

Logan makes a noise of satisfaction and smiles, asking you to pass your phone so he can look at it more – pretending it’s his first time seeing it. If you think that way about it, maybe the three more lines he was going to add aren’t that important after all. 

The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created. 

-

After a week, he figures he has to give in. Drawing another picture of you is on his mind twenty-four seven. 

It doesn’t help that he still catches you staring at the copy of it in your phone case lovingly more than once a day and you’ve put the original drawing in a special little frame on your nightstand. He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing. 

This is for you. It’s not about him. He’s not an artist or anything like that, he’s just doing something kind for someone he cares about (which is honestly sappy enough but he tries to ignore that). He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy. 

He’ll just make this second drawing and silently put it in your room, and he’s the last person you’ll suspect. 

But of course now that he knows it means something to you, he can’t get anything right. He draws your hair too curly, then not curly enough. He draws your nose too big, then too small. Your eyes end up crooked. He can’t erase too much because it’ll look sloppy, so even the drawing he gets almost perfect, he ruins with a few final additions at the end. 

It takes him an entire month for the next drawing, and it feels more like him that it’s been making him so angry that he couldn’t get it right at first. Maybe he had the wrong picture of artists. They’re always talking about pain, aren’t they, and that’s what he experiences too (over a drawing. Who is he?). 

He takes another few days to keep track of your routine, to monitor when you’ll be in your room. He can’t have it be as close as last time. 

He ends up doing it in the evening. There’s a time after dinner when most of the team stays together to watch tv, just talk, or play some games. It’s normal for some of you to wander off, come back or stick around a bit longer. It won’t be suspicious if he leaves for a few minutes and comes back.

Logan wants nothing more than to follow you when you say that you’re going to your room for the night; he wants to see your reaction. But he can’t. All he can do is go up to his own bedroom fifteen minutes later, lingering in the hallway longer than he needs to.

Just as he’s about to give up and go to sleep, you walk down the hallway, coming back from the bathroom.

“Logan!” you call all excitedly when you see him, and his heart skips a beat. Do you know the drawing is from him? 

“Look,” you take his arm and pull him to your room, “I got another drawing!”

He breathes out in relief; you don’t know it’s from him. He smiles when you hold up the drawing, already framed.

“Were you expecting to get another drawing?” he teases.

“Noo, but the frames came in a pack of two. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Logan looks at how your eyes sparkle, how proudly you’re showing him this drawing. All the work he put into it was definitely worth it. It’s another picture of your face, this time from a new angle, and with your hair styled differently, curls coiled another way from last time.

Logan clears his throat, remembering to keep up his act. “It looks good.”

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.”

He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

“It is. And you don’t have to know much about art or drawing to see how pretty this is. I still can’t believe someone would take the time to make these for me.”

Logan remains silent instead of saying what he wants to tell you. Of course he would take that time for you – and you don’t even know how much time it really took him. If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you.

Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

-

He’s on a roll for some time. He’s better at drawing again now that he’s getting in practice, and he makes five drawings of you within the next weeks. Logan watches the collection of them on your nightstand grow fuller, along with your smile that somehow gets bigger every time you tell him about a new drawing.

It’s a wonder you haven’t caught on yet, but you don’t seem particularly interested in snooping around to find out who it is. You respect the person’s privacy, but you’ve confessed to him that you’d still love to know. 

“I won’t try to find out who it is. I won’t push it if they don’t want me to know… but, I mean, anyone would want to know, wouldn’t they?”

You’ve adopted the nickname of ‘secret admirer’ for this mysterious ‘they’, after Logan used the term about ten times. You were reluctant at first, because the person isn’t calling themself a secret admirer – you’d just be putting words in their mouth. But after seeing how much more beautiful the drawings get each time, you’ve accepted and admitted that, okay, yes, the person must be an admirer.

Your secret admirer Logan is particularly proud of his latest drawing, excited to bring it up to your room tonight. 

But this time he’s sloppy. He’s stayed for a few post-dinner card games with the team, and it’s risky, because you’ve been saying that it’s your last game for the last two rounds. But he also knows that you always say that, and never mean it.

Logan gets up to leave, and he hears Scott convincing you to play just one more round.

It’s stupid, really, risking it like that. Even if he’s gone from your room in time before you come upstairs, you could easily guess that it’s Logan. He’s the first one leaving the round tonight, so your first assumption could be that it was him.

Maybe subconsciously he wants to get caught. He’s seen how you light up at every drawing, and no matter how much you respect your admirer’s anonymity, of course you want to know who’s dedicating so much time and work to drawings of you. Of course it’s crossed your mind that the person isn’t just doing this because they’re a good friend. They’re drawing your face because they think it’s beyond beautiful.

Logan doesn’t really know why he hasn’t told you yet that he likes you. He’s good at flirting, and he’s attractive – he’s not blind. But with you it’s different, there’s a bigger risk, for the both of you. The older he gets, the harder it is to open up to yet another person. You’re friends, and you talk about personal things, but confessing that he’s in love with you is different.

Not to mention this stupid recurring dream he keeps having, in which you find out it’s Logan who’s been drawing you, and suddenly your opinion of the drawings changes. You don’t like him back like that, and suddenly the drawings feel creepy if you think about him staying up late drawing your face.

He rolls his eyes at himself and gets the thought out of his head, taking the small envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans, smoothing his hand over it. He looks around, making sure no one sees him.

Logan bends down to slide the envelope under your door as usual, but one of the corners of the paper catches against the wall, and he quickly opens it to check the drawing isn’t damaged. His heart is beating so fast, he feels stupid. 

He can hear footsteps, still far away, but he can hear them. Logan messily licks the edges of the envelope to close it back up, but it’s not sticking. He can’t decide between shoving it under the door like this or leaving now and bringing it back the next day. He can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage now.

Then he hears it. He miscalculated how far the footsteps were.

“Logan?”

He turns around slowly, and it feels like the world has frozen.

You come closer, looking at him and then at the letter that he must’ve dropped. It hasn’t made it under your door yet.

He says something before you can, “I’m delivering for someone else.”

“Who?” you ask, bending down to pick up the envelope. If he wasn’t petrified, he’d enjoy the view of you bent over in front of him.

He breathes. He can’t have anyone taking credit for his work, for his art (you called it that recently, he would never). But his heart is beating so fast he doesn’t know what the fuck to do or say. 

This is exactly why he never wanted to do any of this. He’s making a fool out of himself and that doesn’t usually happen, especially not over a piece of paper. Logan is confident, cocky even, he can admit that, and has no idea how to deal with things like being nervous; he never has to. This really isn’t him.

You don’t wait for an answer and look at the envelope. You open it so carefully, gently taking the drawing out with your fingertips. You’re treating it with so much care he immediately feels better. Again, this isn’t for him, it’s for you. (Well, it’s for him too but it’ll take him a while to admit that). 

He’s drawn your smile this time. You were happy in most of the drawings before, but he focussed more on the eyes, and your lips only ever tugged up in a slight smile. 

This one is a full-toothed grin, mid-laugh. 

You two were drinking last weekend. He barely felt it but your tipsy, giggly mood was contagious. He couldn’t imagine himself feeling any other way but blissful when you’re happy around him. 

It started when Logan made a casual comment about something silly Scott was wearing that night, and he had you giggling. He wanted to immediately hear that angelic sound again, of course, and so he gave you every joke about your shared friends he could think of – all light-hearted, but he was still glad you two were alone. 

It was the stupidest joke of all that made you really laugh, some dumb comparison between Xavier and Caillou. You probably wouldn’t even giggle at it anymore now, but in the moment it was so funny you almost spat out your drink from the deep belly laugh he drew from you, holding onto his bicep so you wouldn’t fall over as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. He wanted to engrave the image on his soul. At least he got your smile on paper.

You look up at him now, eyes filled with tears. 

“You drew this?” you ask.

He nods softly. He can’t say it but he hopes the drawings convey how in love with you he is. 

Suddenly, Logan feels like his heart has stopped beating.

You’re kissing him. 

You’ve leaped up, wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, and now your lips are on his. 

He feels your mouth falter, probably because he’s being a fucking idiot and not kissing you back. Logan places his hands on your waist to pull you further towards him. Then his brain finally catches up and he can do what he’s wanted to for so long. 

He takes your chin with two fingers and angles you so you can kiss him easier. He closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of your soft, warm lips against him. You’re soft and warm all over. Your top has slipped up over his fingertips at your sides, and he slides his hands further around your back to support you against him even better. 

Logan’s tongue pushes at your lower lip, and you let out the sexiest, tiny moan of surprise as you part your lips for him, granting him access. 

His tongue touches the tip of yours and from then on your cravings intensify. You feel your way over his muscular shoulders, his big biceps and over the hard planes of his chest. When you’ve had a good feel there, your hands grip his shirt in desperation and Logan gets even hungrier for you. He gently bites at your lower lip, but then you shriek into his mouth and squirm out of his grasp. He opens his eyes wide. 

You grip Logan’s forearm for support when you bend down in a panic, picking up the drawing you just dropped. You let out a big breath of relief when you see it hasn’t been damaged. 

“You made me drop it!” You slap a hand to his chest; it doesn’t actually hurt and it’s not meant to, but it leaves a pleasant tingle behind instead. 

“I didn’t do anything”, Logan laughs, and you shake your head at him with a smile.

You take him into your room where you make him sit on the bed while you stare at the new drawing in awe. “I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it.

“No one else knows.”

You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

“I’ll only draw for you anyway, so there’s no point in telling anyone else.”

“You’re really good. I love the drawings.”

Logan gives a satisfied hum at your words, “You inspired me. Can’t have you walking around all pretty and not expect me to try and recreate it.”

You straddle Logan and hover over his lap to hug him, “They’re the best thing anyone's ever given to me. Do I really look like that?” You say the last question more quietly, and Logan wraps his arms around your sides, careful not to bump your hand that’s still holding the drawing.

“You’re more gorgeous than anything I could ever capture, but I think it comes close. I didn’t change anything about you to make you more beautiful. I couldn’t if I tried. I just tried to draw you as accurately as possible, that’s why it’s so beautiful.”

“I really love it,” you say again, happily staring at the details of the drawing. Hearing you say the word love so much tempts Logan, but he doesn’t want to move too fast. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He does, however, want to kiss you again.

Logan carefully takes the framed drawing and puts it on your nightstand. You push your mouth against his before he can initiate the kiss, and he grins against your lips.

You don’t know how to put your feelings into words, so you’re kissing him instead. He pulls you down so that you’re not hovering over but sitting on his lap, and the mood immediately shifts to something different. Logan doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’re ready then he’ll take anything he can get.

Your chest is pressed against Logan’s, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes. You may or may not be pressing your boobs against his body on purpose.

“God, baby, I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, already breathless, as his hands trail down your back, leaving goosebumps behind.

“You’ve waited long?” you raise your eyebrows, grinning, “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I met you.”

You see the look in Logan’s eyes changing as he bites his lip, “Who says I didn’t want the same?”

You giggle, “Why did it take us so long?”

Logan chuckles, readjusting you so that you’re even closer to him, “I was too busy to actually talk to you, just been starin’ at you so I could draw you.” His cheeks have the faintest red tint, and you kiss them, hugging him.

You whisper into his ear, “Then it was worth the wait. And anyway, it’s not talking that I’m interested in right now.”

He pulls you back to look into your eyes, then at your lips. “Where do you want me?” he asks. You giggle slightly helplessly; you weren’t entirely prepared to have a man like Logan at your mercy like this tonight.

“You can do whatever you want,” you say softly, kissing him.

Logan’s lips are hungry against yours, strings of spit falling between you two, but he pauses the kiss to lie you on your back. “Wanna eat you out,” he husks, “Been dying to know what you taste like forever, bub. Can I?” He reaches for the hem of your top, and you nod so that he can pull it off you, admiring what’s underneath. 

“Sometimes I make myself cum imagining that I’m going down on you,” you confess somewhat shyly, but you figure he’s been so vulnerable for you that you can share a secret too.

Logan smirks, and pulls off his shirt, “Maybe we can make your dream come true then.”

You move to sit up, but he insists on eating you out first. You both take off all your clothes, staring at each other with huge smiles on your faces for a few moments. You’ve never seen Logan this happy.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty,” he leans down to kiss your lips, then down your neck, all the way to your legs. He spreads them, lying down between them as he all but drools at the sight of your wet pussy.

You get nervous all of a sudden. “It’s been a while,” you tell him. He looks up, taking your hand, enveloping it completely in his much bigger one.

“You sure about this? We can wait,” he gently kisses your knuckles, and a warmth spreads in your chest, slowing your heartbeat down a little.

“I’m sure,” you nod, and Logan comes up again to kiss you. The head of his hard cock catches against the space above your clit, and you both look down between your bodies. When Logan looks back up at you, his eyes are desperately begging you. You place your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair as he moves down your body.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mumbles into your thigh, kissing you there. You giggle, getting comfortable, your hand never leaving his hair.

Logan starts eating you out, his tongue gentle but determined against your clit.

“Taste so good, baby. Even better than I imagined.” You hum at Logan’s words, already feeling yourself come undone with his mouth on your wet pussy.

You sink further into the mattress when he starts sucking on your clit, licking into your pussy like a man starved every few moments, and your thighs squeeze around Logan’s head, and it’s even better than in his fantasies.

“Feels really good,” you tell him, pulling on his hair to stop yourself from moving too much, and Logan moans against your skin. Hearing your words motivates him even more, and he pushes two fingers into your wet pussy. He curls his fingers, rubbing up against that spot that makes you see stars.

Your back arches as you cum, Logan’s lips wrapped around your clit as your legs push harder against his head, and all he does is moan, revelling in the feeling.

Logan doesn’t stop licking your pussy until you’re tugging his head away by his hair, and he comes up for air with a grin on his face. You smile back, pulling him up to kiss him. You give yourself only a few seconds of recovery time before you make him sit down. You know you’d never have enough strength to actually make him get into a different position, but he lets you.

You push him onto his back, getting between his legs. You’re blinking up at him all prettily when you ask, “Can I suck your dick? Please?”

Logan huffs to himself because he can’t believe how hot you are, can’t believe that this is really finally happening. He tells you yes – he has no more words to describe how badly he wants this – and he watches you wrap your pretty lips around his cock.

It’s hard to grasp that it’s really you doing this right now – the woman he’s been into for so long. His cock is in your mouth and you look so gorgeous with spit running down from your lips, and all he can think of is all the dirty drawings he can now make of you, if you’ll let him.

He closes his eyes when you take him deeper, enveloping him with your warm, wet mouth. “Good girl,” he whispers absent-mindedly, too gone to say much more.

You’re not using your hands as you suck his cock, your spit trailing down on him, and you’re so eager. But it’s also late, and he sees you getting tired, eyes blinking slower as you pause to catch your breath every few moments. He also sees the determination in your eyes, and the absolute want, but he doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself. 

You look so sexy all fucked out, strings of spit connecting your mouth to his cock as you pull away another time, giggling up at him shyly when you realise that he’s noticing you getting tired.

“Just need a second,” you wipe your mouth, out of breath, and it’s not that you’re not incredibly hot like this, but he still wants to fuck you tonight and he’s not sure that will happen if you keep going.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, reaching out his hand.

“Huh?” you ask, taking his hand nevertheless.

“Get back here, baby. I’m gonna fuck you now, alright? Don’t want you tiring yourself out.”

You let him lift you and put you on your back, but you pout, “Wanna taste you.”

Logan grins, “I’ll cum in your mouth, princess. Promise.”

You smile at his answer, satisfied, so you lie back down, pulling your legs up to your chest. His cock looks huge as he jerks himself off between your legs, rubbing the tip against your clit, making you squirm.

“Don’t know if I can take you,” you bite your lip. You’re not entirely sure if you mean it or not. You definitely want to try.

“We’ll make it fit, baby, we’ll make it fit,” Logan assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth, a mix of your wetness and his precum between your mouths. You feel his cock at your pussy, “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” you nod desperately, letting him push his cock into your pussy. He pauses after a few inches, but you wrap your legs around his waist more tightly, and he goes deeper.

“Y’okay, baby? You can take it, right?”

You nod, unable to form words with your pussy stretched like this, a combination of pleasure and pain between your legs – but it’s infinitely more pleasure.

“That’s right. You’re my good girl, hm?” He kisses along your neck as he bottoms out, and you both moan when he’s got his cock fully stuffed inside you for the first time. He pulls out slightly when you whine at the stretch, but you scratch down his back to get his attention.

“I can take it,” you tell him, and you watch the look in his eyes darken.

He begins to fuck you, the pain subsiding more with every thrust into your wet pussy. You can barely take him, but it feels good. With your slight tiredness, you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine. 

You can’t believe that Logan – your super hot friend Logan who you’ve been fantasising about for so long – is fucking you. He not only feels the same way about you, but he’s been your secret admirer this entire time, taking hours and hours out of his day to make you smile. You’re the only one he wants.

And now he’s fucking you, fucking you well, and you feel so warm inside, not just from the sex but you feel warm in your heart, because of Logan’s care.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking a hand down your face when he notices you’re not entirely present. You nod happily, smiling up at him, and you can’t talk because you feel so good.

“Good, that’s good, bub, but let me know if it gets too much,” he says as he starts rubbing your clit, watches you nod while he’s fucking you so well, and he’s so big and so deep inside of you, “Squeezing me so tight, baby, feel so fucking good.”

You cum suddenly, letting the warm pleasure flow through your body as Logan keeps fucking you through it, rubbing your clit in just the right rhythm.

“That’s my girl, taking it so well,” he moans, breaths stuttering. You slump against the pillow after a few moments, with a soft smile on your face, and Logan pulls out.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he jerks his cock, and you sit up on your elbows immediately, looking him in the eyes with a smile as you stick out your tongue for him. He promised.

Logan moans when he cums, painting your face in his release, jerking himself off. He holds your head in place with his other hand, aiming for your mouth but you’re making no effort to catch his cum there.

“Such a pretty fucking face, princess, ’m cumming all over it,” he rasps, shooting more ropes of his cum all over your cheeks, jacking off onto your face.

You open your eyes when he’s done and breathing heavily, and you smile up at him. You open your mouth, taking the head of his cock between your lips to suck off the last drops of cum.

“Look at you, baby. Look so fucking pretty with my cum all over your gorgeous face.”

You hum, pulling your mouth off him and licking your lips, tasting his salty release. You brush a finger over your cheek, sucking it into your mouth to taste him more. Logan kisses you then, the flavour of himself mixing between your mouths.

He cleans you up gently, carefully wiping your face with a baby wipe and kissing every inch of your cheeks afterwards. You take his face to kiss him properly, and if you didn’t seem so tired Logan would be ready for round two immediately.

“Next time you could try to actually cum in my mouth,” you tease, making Logan grin.

“Sorry, baby. Got too excited. Couldn’t focus on asking you again if it was okay.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “I liked it.”

Logan grins, “Oh I could tell you liked it, baby.” You lightly slap his chest as you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

You cuddle for a while, not saying much because you don’t have to. You’ve both waited for this for so long that you’re just enjoying the moment, enjoying that it finally happened.

You slip out of his arms to sit on top of him. You’re in nothing but panties, the blanket bunching around your hips. You lean your hands against his chest as you tell him more about how much the drawings delighted you. And Logan cares, of course he cares to hear that, but he’s also just a man seeing the woman he’s into naked for the first time still. 

You become quiet when you realise that he’s not listening, and you giggle, “Distracted?”

Logan grins, “Just a little fucking bit, baby.” His eyes don’t leave your body, and you laugh as you bend down to kiss him. He grabs your ass, kneading the flesh. When you slightly sit up again, your tits are near his face, and he can’t help himself. He cups your breasts, playing with your nipples, making you hum.

“I should draw these,” he looks up at you, “Should draw every perfect fucking inch of you.”

“You wanna?” You adjust how you’re seated in his lap, and you feel that he’s already half hard under you again.

“Maybe after I’ve fucked you again.”

You smile, feeling yourself growing wetter on top of him.

“Tomorrow,” he continues, and your smile drops.

“But you’ve got to get more familiar with the inspiration, right? If you’re going to draw me.”

“That’s true, baby. But I think you’re too tired.”

You smile bashfully, ignoring how your eyelids were drooping shut just a few seconds ago, “Okay, but then I’ll have more energy for tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, pulling you off him to cuddle you again. He tucks you in and kisses your head. 

You turn to your side, taking one of the framed drawings and looking at it for a while. 

Logan watches you looking at it, and the sparkle in your eyes never fails to make him feel all warm inside. “Now that you actually know about it, I don’t have to draw you from memory anymore. I can study my muse in peace.”

“Aww, I’m your muse?” you beam.

“Of course you are, princess. You’re the only reason I’m drawing again.”

“I love your drawings so much.”

Logan clears his throat, and looks at you. “Well, I love you. So, I think that went into them.”

You look at him, pouting and then kissing him. “I love you too,” you say into his mouth. He grins against your lips, pulling you closer to kiss you some more. He can barely grasp that you just said that, but he’ll have enough time soon to comprehend how lucky he is. 

For now, he takes your hand, and asks, “The question might be redundant now, but do you wanna be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

“I’m already yours.”

Logan grins, takes you in his arms, and you’re still cuddling when you’re both drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

P.S. reblog with a comment and let me know your favourite moment/what you liked to get a drawing from Logan under your door tonight and a facial <33

gorgeous divider by @pommecita

[infernolust]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗢𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗖𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻

Ghostface! Sevika x Victim! Reader

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2K

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Sevika watches you like prey, but it’s not just about the hunt. Her obsession cuts through the boundaries of your everyday life, a shadow that clings to you in every corner, every crevice of your existence. One phone call changes everything—confirming your worst fear: she isn’t just watching. She’s closer than you think.

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: Ghostface AU, Psychological Horror, Obsession, Stalking, Dark Romance, Sapphic Undertones and Slow-Burn (but Unhinged)

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: Hey, everyone! I used to post under the username @dieseldame, but I lost access to that account. I’m restarting here and bringing over all my stories, including this one. Your feedback means everything—let me know what you think!

The phone rings. Again. It’s not unexpected—not anymore. You’ve come to recognize the pattern. The low trill cuts through the silence like a serrated knife, shredding the fragile calm you’ve tried so desperately to cling to. Your hand hovers above the receiver, a hesitation you can’t afford. You don’t want to answer, but you know it’s worse if you don’t. She’ll call again. And again. And she’ll make sure you regret ignoring her.

When you finally press the phone to your ear, you hear nothing at first. Just breathing—low, steady, and predatory. It’s her.

Sevika.

She never gives you her name, but you know it’s her. The deep rasp in her voice feels like smoke curling against your skin, stinging and suffocating.

— You always leave your curtains open. — she says. Her words roll out slow, deliberate, like she’s savoring every syllable.

Your stomach drops. You glance at the window—a wide, gaping rectangle of vulnerability. The streetlights outside cast long shadows across your apartment floor, but beyond that, it’s all darkness. A void you can’t peer into, though you know she’s out there. Watching.

You clutch the phone tighter, your fingers trembling. — Where are you?

Her laugh is low and throaty, a sound that vibrates through the line and coils around your chest. —Closer than you think, sweetheart.

The term of endearment feels jagged coming from her. Mocking. Dangerous.

— Why are you doing this? — you ask, though your voice betrays you with a quiver. You want to sound strong, defiant, but all she hears is fear.

There’s a pause on the other end, a silence so weighted it feels like she’s in the room with you, breathing down your neck. Then she says, — Because you’re mine.

The words slam into you like a punch to the gut. You stagger back a step, your free hand fumbling to pull the curtains shut. The fabric is thin and cheap, offering little reassurance against the encroaching night. You feel her eyes on you even now, piercing through walls, stripping you bare.

— You’re insane. — you whisper.

Another laugh, darker this time. — Maybe. But I’m not wrong.

The line goes dead before you can respond. You stare at the receiver in your hand, your own breathing loud in the sudden silence. For a moment, you think about calling the police. But what would you even tell them? That you’ve been getting calls from someone who may or may not be watching you? That the rasp in her voice makes your skin crawl and your pulse race? That she’s made you question the solidity of your locks, your walls, your very reality?

They’d think you were paranoid. Maybe you are.

Sevika wasn’t supposed to be a part of your life. She had existed on the periphery, a shadow in Zaun’s seedy underbelly, a name whispered with equal parts fear and respect. You’d heard stories—about her loyalty, her strength, her ruthlessness. But you’d never imagined she’d notice you. You were nobody. A face in the crowd.

At least, that’s what you’d thought.

Now, her presence looms over every corner of your existence. You see her in the flicker of a cigarette ember across the street. You hear her in the growl of a passing motorcycle. She’s everywhere and nowhere, a phantom haunting your every move. And it’s not just fear that ties your stomach in knots. It’s something darker, something you don’t want to name.

Obsession.

It’s mutual—you know that much. She watches you like prey, but there’s something else in the way she lingers. It’s not just about the hunt. It’s about you. She doesn’t care about anyone else. You’ve seen the headlines, the trail of bodies left in her wake. She’s a storm, relentless and consuming, but somehow you’ve become the eye of it.

The next night, you find yourself staring out the window again. It’s a compulsion, a morbid curiosity you can’t shake. The curtains are drawn this time, but you peek through the gap where the fabric doesn’t quite meet. The street below is quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of a passerby or the distant hum of machinery.

And then you see her.

A figure leans against the lamppost at the corner, half-hidden in shadow. You can’t make out her features, but the shape of her is unmistakable. Broad shoulders, a mechanical arm that gleams faintly under the flickering light. She’s smoking, the red glow of the cigarette tip flaring like a warning.

You pull back, heart hammering against your ribs. She’s not supposed to be real. She’s supposed to be a voice on the phone, a nightmare confined to your imagination. But she’s here. And she’s watching.

The phone rings.

The sound startles you so badly you nearly drop the receiver. When you answer, her voice is calm, almost conversational.

— See something you like? — she asks.

You don’t respond, your throat too tight to form words.

— Come on, — she prods, her tone laced with amusement. — I know you saw me.

— Leave me alone. — you manage to choke out.

— Not a chance. — Her voice hardens, the humor vanishing like a flicked switch. — You don’t get to tell me what to do, sweetheart. Not when you’re the one who keeps inviting me in.

— I didn’t...

— Didn’t you? — She cuts you off, her words sharp as a blade. — You leave your curtains open. You walk the same route home every night. You’re practically begging for me to follow you.

Her words hit too close to home. You have felt her presence for weeks now, a shadow trailing your every step. You’d thought it was paranoia, your own mind playing tricks on you. But now, hearing it from her lips, it feels like validation. And that terrifies you.

— What do you want from me? — you whisper.

A pause. Then, softly: — Everything.

You don’t sleep that night. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the wind outside, feels like her. You sit curled up on the couch, clutching a kitchen knife you’re not sure you’d even know how to use. The darkness presses in, suffocating, and for the first time in your life, you feel truly hunted.

By the time the sun rises, you’re a mess—eyes bloodshot, nerves frayed. But Sevika doesn’t call again. She doesn’t have to. The damage is already done. You’re hers, whether you want to be or not.

And deep down, in a part of yourself you refuse to acknowledge, you’re not sure you want her to stop.

ㅤㅤㅤ

[im-so-normal-iswear]

hii, can I request a yandere shadow who grows to be obsessed with y/n?

A/n: meant to post this sooner

Yandere!Shadow x reader

It started subtly, almost innocently. Shadow wasn’t the kind to dwell on others. He preferred solitude. Yet, you weren’t like everyone else. You didn’t except him to change, or provoke him, unlike certain hedgehogs, you actually respected him.

One day he was injured, badly he ended uo infrint of you. He was about to leave before you insisted on helping him, despite him trying to decline.

"Its okay to ask for help every once in a while you know." You said while wrappibg bandage over his injury.

He had scoffed at the time, muttering something about being fine on his own. But the warmth of your hand on his arm lingered long after you let go.

Shadow’s curiosity about you grew steadily. He didn’t understand why, but he found himself watching you from afar. The way you carried yourself, the way you interacted with others, it fascinated him. You had a spark, a light that he couldn’t look away from.

At first, he told himself it was harmless. After all, he was just... observing. It wasn’t as if you’d notice him lurking in the shadows, his eyes tracking your every movement.

But then, he started seeking you out intentionally. If he knew you were going to be somewhere, he made sure to be there too. If you were talking to someone, he’d position himself close enough to overhear. He didn’t need to interact, just being near you was enough.

For now.

It didn’t take long for Shadow’s feelings to evolve. The idea of you being with anyone else, laughing with them, trusting them the way you trusted him, filled him with a rage he didn’t fully understand. You were kind to everyone, but the thought of your kindness being shared made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He started interfering in subtle ways. If someone asked you out, they’d mysteriously back out at the last moment, their enthusiasm gone. If you planned to meet friends, sudden circumstances would force them to cancel. He wanted you all to himself, and he was willing to ensure it happened.

The first time you noticed something was off, you brushed it aside. It was completely reasonable none of your friends could pick you up, forcing you to walk, and run into Shadow on your way home.

"You shouldn't walk alone at night, ill walk you home"

And while you appreciated his concern, you couldn’t shake the feeling that his presence wasn’t entirely accidental.

As the weeks went by, more "coincidences" occurred. You started seeing Shadow everywhere. If you mentioned needing help with something, he’d show up before you even had a chance to ask. If you stayed out late, he’d somehow be waiting for you when you got home.

Shadow’s obsession with you consumed him. His thoughts were dominated by you, your voice, your smile, the way you made him feel. He didn’t recognize himself anymore.

The once controlled, shut off, independent, supposed "ultimate life form" had been replaced by someone who couldn’t function without you.

He started collecting things, small things of you. A scarf you left behind, a note you scribbled, even a strand of your hair caught in your comb. He kept them hidden, locked away in a box that he’d never let anyone else see.

But it wasn’t enough. He needed more.

The day Shadow’s control slipped was the day you tried to pull away. You’d started to notice more and more how he changed, and he Slowly became too much. When you told him you needed space, his reaction was immediate and terrifying.

"Space?" he repeated. "Why would you need space from me? I’ve done everything for you."

You tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen. He onlystepped closer.

"You don’t understand," he said, his voice shaking with emotion. "You belong with me. No one else can protect you like I can. No one else deserves you."

When you tried to step back, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist with a force that made you wince.

"You don’t get to leave me, Not after everything"

[calliecopper]

Ian Gallagher Being His Own Person, and Why That's Controversial

A meta about Ian's story during his time away from Mickey, and the hate his character receives for it. Inspired by @dazzle02 :)

How many times have you heard somebody say that they skipped season 8 of Shameless because Mickey wasn't in it? How many times have you heard somebody say that season 7 is only good during Mickey's episodes, or that the story is boring without Mickey in it, or that Ian's S6-8 arc was boring without Mickey? How many times have you heard somebody proclaim that Ian wasn't a good partner to Mickey?

Mickey is undeniably THE fan favorite character of the show, and with that comes a tendency for fans to defend him tooth and nail, even when he is in the wrong, and refuse to see any other points of view. Characters who go against Mickey in any way receive a harsh amount of criticism that sometimes is not fully justified. This applies even to Mickey's main connection to the story: Ian.

During season 5 and onward, some fans hold Ian's actions against him very harshly when I feel he deserves a bit more empathy. Of these, there are three main things people criticize his character for during seasons 5, 6, and 7 that I feel are not given proper analysis and thought by fandom.

Disclaimer before we get in because people feel very passionately about these two: Every interpretation of a character is entirely unique to each individual viewer, and these are just my opinions. This is in no way an anti-Mickey post, so as you read, keep in mind that any criticism toward him is not meant to make him out to be a bad character. Don't bite me.

Season Five: The Breakup of All Time

I think a large part of why people get so upset with Ian for the breakup is because of the growth Mickey experienced in seasons 4-5 leading up to it.

Mickey in seasons 1-3 is in extreme denial of being gay, and when he grows feelings for Ian, he lashes out and treats Ian like shit. Seeing Mickey's slow growth starting in season 3 brought interest to his character, and in season 4 with his major growth during his coming out, he becomes very compelling to a viewer. After all the angst that it took to get Mickey to finally open up, there's a natural desire to see that positive growth and relationship development continue. When Ian throws a wrench in that by breaking up with Mickey in season 5, people get upset, and they're going to direct that toward Ian because he is the easiest to blame.

There's the sentiment of, "Mickey came out for Ian, took care of Ian, and supported Ian when he needed him most despite his faults. Why is Ian leaving Mickey in the dust when he now needs him most?"

This is honestly not an unreasonable thing to feel when looking at things from Mickey's perspective.

But, when you take a look at Ian's character, and you really think of his motivations in that moment, his decision to break up is actually very understandable. Ian didn't break up with Mickey because he thinks Mickey is a bad partner or because he doesn't love Mickey enough. He broke up with Mickey because he thought that's what was best FOR Mickey.

I think comparing the breakup to their fight over marriage in season 10 to be an effective way to understand Ian better.

In season 10:

"How do you know you love me? Huh? How do you really know? I'm bipolar, right? I don't know who I am from one day to the next, and I can't guarantee shit. So why do you wanna spend the rest of your life with me?"

- Ian to Mickey, S10E9

Compare this to this conversation during the breakup:

"You used to love me. Now you don't even know who I am. Shit, I don't know who I am half the time... You don't owe me anything."

"I love you."

"The Hell does that even mean?"

- Ian and Mickey, S5E12

I feel that Ian's mindset is pretty similar in these two moments. In season 5, he is still grappling with his diagnosis, and he has no frame of reference of how a healthy life with bipolar can look. Everybody has been comparing him to Monica, and he himself seems to oscillate between thinking he is like her and not like her, so in his mind, he has nothing to offer anymore.

Then, in season 10, in his mind he proved himself right. He tried to get his shit in order, lived happily and found peace with his diagnosis, and then he fucked it up. He had an episode, and he lost everything he fought so hard to have. He has practically ruined his life because he DID what he FEARED he would:

"I hate the meds. You gonna make me take 'em?"

"You get fucking nuts when you don't."

"Are you gonna want to be with me even if I don't?"

- Ian and Mickey, S5E12

That conversation isn't Ian saying he isn't going to take his meds, given how in season six, he IS taking his meds. I interpret his above statement to be a warning to Mickey. Because Monica has tried to get on her meds before, has tried to get better, and has failed many times. IAN has gone off his meds willingly twice now. This is him telling Mickey, straightforward, "I do not like the meds, and there will always be a risk of me deciding not to take them."

And in seasons 8-9, he does exactly that. He goes off his meds, and he destroys everything he built for himself. That's part of the reason why he hesitates to marry Mickey in season 10, and part of the reason he breaks up with Mickey in season 5.

Ian views himself and his disorder to be a burden on the people he loves. He believes that Mickey will be better off without him.

"I don't want you sitting around, worrying, watching me, waiting for me to do my next crazy shit."

- Ian to Mickey, S5E12

Because Mickey HAS been doing that. Ever since he was diagnosed, Mickey has been watching Ian like a hawk, acting like a nurse, which frustrates Ian.

"Fuckin' nurse now?"

[...]

"I'm sick of your whiny, pussy crap. I don't need a fucking caretaker, alright? I need the shit-talking, bitch-slapping piece of Southside trash I fell for. Where is he? The fuck is he, Mickey?"

- Ian to Mickey, S5E10

But, of course, Mickey doesn't see it that way. To Mickey, Ian is anything but a burden he wants to unload.

"It means we take care of each other. [...] It means thick and thin, good times, bad, sickness, health, all that shit."

- Mickey to Ian, S5E12.

Mickey would do anything for Ian. He confronted his worst fear by coming out, stayed with Ian even after the infidelity, defended Ian after he kidnapped his son, and tried his best to understand a mental illness he had no prior knowledge about. Yet, Ian still won't commit to him. After everything, he still isn't good enough.

"I'm not saying never!"

"No, you're just saying you don't love me enough now."

- Ian and Mickey, S10E9

And Ian, meanwhile, thinks that HE isn't good enough for MICKEY. He has been diagnosed with a lifelong condition, one that he has seen ruin lives firsthand, something that will be a part of him for the rest of his life, and he doesn't wanna tie Mickey down to that life.

It's all one massive miscommunication.

Finally, I think the part that is the most confusing to fans regarding Ian's mindset during the breakup stems from his moments with Monica in S5E11 and S5E12.

Specifically, the parallels between these two conversations.

"Ian, there's always gonna be people that are gonna try and fix us. And you can never make those people happy. Like it breaks their heart just to look at you."

"Yeah, um, even Mickey now."

"He's your boyfriend, right? [...] I'm sure he means well, but you need to be with people who accept you for who you are. And they're out there. You should never apologize for being you."

- Monica and Ian, S5E11.

Vs.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Too much! Too much is wrong with me. That's the problem, isn't it? Too much is wrong with me, and you can't do anything about that. You can't change it. You can't fix me, 'cause I'm not broken. I don't need to be fixed, okay? I'm me!"

- Ian and Mickey, S5E12.

Monica's interpretation of the relationship seems to paint Mickey in a negative light. "He means well, but he doesn't get it," or something along those lines. Based on her previous experiences with the diagnosis, she has come to the conclusion that people like Mickey or Fiona, who try to get them to take medication and are saddened by the diagnosis, are being controlling, and do not love them for who they really are. That's why she always went back to Frank; he actively tried to get her to NOT take her meds or get better, and did not encourage her when she DID try to get better. So, to her, being off her meds IS the TRUE version of herself, and the people who can not accept that do not accept her.

But I think, while Ian's lines parallel Monica's, that he does not think the same way that she does.

Toward the end of season 5, Ian seems to do a complete 180 from his previous statements on his similarities with Monica.

"You flushed your pills? You get thats a full-on Monica move, right?"

"I'm not Monica."

- Ian and Fiona, S5E8

Vs.

" [...] Cause they all say how alike we are."

"That's probably not a compliment."

"Uh... No, I think it is."

- Ian and Monica, S5E11

This happens in the wake of his arrest, after Ian's siblings talk about him to the military police. Many of their comments seem to hit Ian in a way that makes him feel misunderstood or like a burden.

Debbie: But he's been acting crazier for longer than that.

Lip: Yeah, at least this past year.

Officer: How would you characterize his behavior?

Debbie: Compared to how he used to be... He's different.

Lip: He'll go back and forth from, you know, being depressed, to, you know, incredibly wound up. I mean, he ran off with a baby for no reason.

Debbie: He almost hit me in the head with a baseball bat.

Fiona: Our mother was bipolar, so we know what it looks like. She put us through Hell, and- I'm not saying you put us through Hell, but when they're manic they can be destructive.

Officer: In your opinion, does he require medication?

Fiona: Yes.

Officer: Is he unable to care for himself?

Fiona: Sometimes, yes.

So, when Ian talks to Monica when they reconnect, Ian expresses loneliness and a feeling of isolation.

"I'm really glad you came, yknow? I just... I needed someone to talk to who... gets it."

- Ian to Monica, S5E11

When Monica tells Ian to not be ashamed and that she loves him for him, she is kind of acting like his Frank. The meds have been taking a toll, and recovery is so difficult that running with her and getting validation from the only other person who could "get it" is an easy choice to make. I think the combined factors of Mickey treating him so delicately, his siblings laying out his flaws so plainly, and his mother's open acceptance creates a feeling of bitterness or shame, and Ian is hoping to find comfort in his mother.

But it doesn't go the way he expects it to.

At the diner, he thinks that Monica is going to prostitute herself for money, and is relieved when she doesn't. It's likely he was thinking of his own stint at the Fairytale in this moment.

Then, he recalls a moment from his childhood that he does not look upon fondly, only for Monica to refer to it as "good times."

He meets Monica's partner and discovers he is an aggressive teenage meth dealer that she is helping to sell the meth.

I think Ian has a true moment of clarity during this. He had thought that he was vindicated, that everybody else was wrong, that they didn't understand, that Monica was right, and that he was perfectly fine just the way he was. But then he sees what Monica considers to be "a happy life."

"Ian, I'm finally happy. People like us, we can be happy. I love him, and that's the most important thing, to find somebody to love, right? Who loves you back for who you are. I want that for you. I love you. We're gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay."

- Monica to Ian, S5E12.

Monica's perception of life is warped. What she considers a good life is living in a trailer selling meth. Good memories are traumatic memories for those around her. True love and support is an aggressive teenage dealer, or Frank Gallagher.

A simple drive to Ian was a horrifying kidnapping to Svetlana. Doing a porn that was no big deal to Ian was a betrayal of trust to Mickey. Joining Monica and ignoring the calls of his well-meaning but ignorant family to Ian was a painful and worrisome disappearance to them. Ian's perception HAS been warped, and he's crashing back to reality, realizing that he has run off with MONICA, realizing that he can't continue down the same path as her, and needs to go home.

He's come to accept that he is bipolar. He's internalized what his family has kept repeating, that he is just like Monica, and looking at her living like this, believing that she is living well, is terrifying to him.

So he goes home, believing that he is just like his mother, and he's doomed to be a piece of shit. He goes back, and he breaks up with Mickey. Because he doesn't think that people like him can be happy, and he doesn't think he'll be okay. And that isn't something that Mickey can change. Too much is wrong with him, and Mickey can't do anything about it.

Really, it's just a matter of Ian operating under the "if you love them, let them go" mindset, and Mickey interpreting it as a rejection. It's the two of them both believing they are not good enough for the other and internalizing it instead of properly communicating.

TL;DR: Ian's breakup with Mickey in S5E12 is not done in a healthy OR selfish mindset. To him, he will do nothing but drag Mickey down, and in his unmedicated and clearly altered state of mind, he thinks the best thing is to let him go.

Season Six: Dating Caleb and Other Blasphemy

The first time we see Mickey in season six, it's behind a pane of glass in an orange jumpsuit.

Mickey had tried to murder Sammi, Ian's half-sister, and had been sentenced to prison for 15 years. It's established that Ian has not been to visit Mickey much and is trying to move on past that time in his life. But, upon being bribed by Svetlana, Ian visits, and during this visit Mickey asks Ian a question:

"You gonna wait for me?" - Mickey to Ian, S6E1.

And when Ian shows hesitation:

"Fuckin' lie if you have to, man, eight years is a long time." - Mickey to Ian, S6E1.

So, Ian replies:

"Yeah. Yeah, Mick, I'll wait." - Ian to Mickey, S6E1.

Before even meeting Caleb, fans absolutely tear into Ian for his decision to not commit to Mickey in this moment. They call it selfish, or out of character, or unfair to ice Mickey out when he is going through this difficult time.

But, let's look at it from Ian's position.

Ian has dealt with abandonment issues his entire life, with both Monica and Frank being unstable and infrequent providers during his adolescence. Throughout his relationship with Mickey, they had been separated on three separate occasions, one of which was entirely voluntary on Mickey's part. Now, due to committing a major crime, Mickey has been sent away for up to fifteen years. They would both be in their thirties by the time Mickey would be released, or close to it if he got out early, and that's not even considering that he was actively taking part in jobs / activities that could extend his sentence, like stabbing people.

Ian has dealt with recurring disappointment and abandonment his entire life, and throughout their time together, Mickey hasn't really established himself as stable.

Now, before you bring out the pitchforks;

"But Mickey was there for Ian and supported him through seasons 4-5. He grew as a person and proved he IS reliable."

Yes, that's true. He did undergo massive development that allowed him to be a better partner and more reliable person to Ian. But, canonically that period of time only takes place over a few months.

Mickey, for the better part of 2-3 years, was NOT a good partner to Ian. Multiple years of an unsteady situationship is not so easily forgotten. Yes, Mickey 1000% had valid reasons for acting the way he did. It's made very clear in S3E6 and S4E11 why Mickey hides his sexuality and lashes out when forced to confront it. But that isn't an excuse. His reasons for acting in a negative way towards Ian the first three seasons is understandable, but he went about it in a bad way.

Not to mention that, despite his growth, Mickey has just been sent to PRISON. No matter how you spin it, his decision to go after Sammi was NOT justified and does not necessarily bring forth confidence in his reliability and stability.

It's not unreasonable for Ian to not want to wait for over a decade for a man who has not always been the best for him. It sucks as a viewer who is invested in them, but Ian was not in the wrong.

Beyond (justifiably) selfish reasons, Ian also already thought that he was bad for Mickey, was worried that he would ruin his life, and with Mickey's justification for his torture attempt being that he did it FOR Ian, that Sammi had it coming because of what she did TO Ian, Ian probably felt responsible for that as well. There was probably a level of guilt in Ian from the whole situation, both for Mickey being in prison and for leaving him there.

But from his point of view, it's better for everybody to try and move on.

What really bothers me about this criticism toward Ian is the sense that he OWED Mickey his time and loyalty. Because Mickey had given and sacrificed so much for Ian during seasons 4-5, it's like people think Ian is then obligated to return that for Mickey, no matter what Mickey did. It's a very transactional way to view the situation, and it just leaves me with an icky taste in my mouth. Nobody owes anybody anything in that situation. Ian does not owe Mickey companionship, and Mickey did not owe Ian support when he got put in prison in season 9. Returning to Ian was Mickey's decision to make, and not a decision Ian was obligated to make in season 6.

Now, onto the actual "dating other people" part of the conversation.

For months, Ian has done nothing but get his meds on track while working at Patsy's, then at the janitors job on Lip's campus. During this time, Ian expresses having a very low sense of self-worth.

"He as smart as you?"

"No."

"Yeah, he's smart."

"Lip is the genuis of the family."

"So that gives you an excuse for not finishing [high school]? You seem plenty smart, and Dav's uniform doesn't really suit you."

- Ian, Lip, and Professor Youens, S6E3

And:

"This is it for me, Lip. This job. This is where I land."

- Ian to Lip, S6E3

Which Lip comments on in a very concise way:

"Yknow, he thinks... Being bipolar means he's doomed to be a piece of shit like our mother."

- Lip about Ian, S6E3

Ian feels no sense of purpose during these months. He feels he has no worth and that he is doomed to work a dead-end job and have no happiness. He thinks he is just like Monica.

That only changes when he witnesses an accident on the highway, and he saves a woman's life by pulling her out of a burning car.

This leads us to Caleb.

Now I'll admit, this is where I take issue with the storytelling, because this would've been a PERFECT way to segue into Ian's EMT arc, but regardless of what I personally think would've been better, the way it plays out in canon does actually still make sense for Ian's character.

After saving the woman from the burning car, Ian collapses due to smoke inhalation and exhaustion. A firefighter on the scene provides Ian with oxygen, thus saving his life. Ian immediately fixates on this particular firefighter.

Now, Ian has a very complicated relationship with feeling his emotions post his diagnosis. In season five, when he is numbed by his meds, the only way for him to feel again is through pain, via self-harm or starting physical fights, and sex. In fact, sex plays a major part in many aspects of Ian's life.

From the age of fifteen, Ian had been consistently subject to sexual abuse. He's been used for his body by countless men throughout his teenage years and has been oftentimes reduced merely to his sexuality and what he can provide to his partner. Even Mickey, in season 2, tells Ian as such in a panicked rage.

"You think we're boyfriend and girlfriend here? You're nothing but a warm mouth to me."

- Mickey to Ian, S2E8.

(No, I'm not saying Mickey sexually abused Ian. But he did contribute to the way we see Ian default so heavily to objectifying and sexualizing himself.)

So, due to this recurring trauma, Ian has a tendency to default to sex as the primary way of getting satisfaction, be it emotional or physical.

So, when Ian gets a rush of adrenaline from the crash, after months of that numbness, he chases the emotions in the most effective way he knows how.

Ian goes to the firehouse with cookies to give as thanks to the firefighter who saved him, but with a clear ulterior motive of getting laid. When he finds out that the particular firefighter (who happens to be part of the "gay shift" which is an odd writing choice) he saw on the highway is married, Ian meets Caleb. In this scene, they speak all of one line to each other when Caleb invites Ian to a firehouse softball game. The next time we see them on screen together, Ian acts very flirtatious toward Caleb, which sets forth their relationship.

"You ever pitch?"

"... Usually, but I'm open depending on what you're into. Where we doing this?"

"Follow me."

[...]

"Wait, we're actually playing softball?"

- Ian and Caleb, S6E5

I think Ian receives hate for this simply because he's expressing interest in a guy that isn't Mickey. Fans get the impression that Ian is moving on too fast or that his interest in Caleb is sudden or rushed. However, I think the rushed nature actually works to show Ian's intentions. In this moment, Ian is not really looking for a full-on relationship. Given how little they interacted thus far, the fact that Caleb wasn't even who Ian was originally interested in, and how Ian's comments consistently err on the side of sexual, its safe to say Ian was just looking for a hookup. In fact, it's Caleb who pushes so hard FOR the relationship.

Mickey, in a deleted scene, hooks up with an inmate right after talking with Ian. If Ian's relationship with Caleb had only been a fling or hookup, I don't think Ian would've been as heavily criticized. As it is, fans get upset at this relationship because it IS a relationship. They go on dates, Ian starts staying with Caleb, and really they seem to be very domestic.

But I don't think Ian was as dedicated to the relationship with Caleb as fans make him out to be.

From the jump, Ian seems uncomfortable with the quick-moving pace of it. At first he only seems interested in sex with Caleb, but upon the negative reaction that provokes, Ian conceded to going on a date with Caleb (which is a bit of a slap in the face to Mickey fans after Gallavich's ruined date.)

"[...] I was hoping to get my hands on your hose."

"Is that what this is to you? A fuck?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing. Come on, let's get out of here."

"No. I knew you were younger than me, but I thought you were a grown-up."

"Fuck. Okay. Okay. Hey, I'm into you, alright? I thought you were into me."

"I am."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't stick my dick in just any guy."

"What do you want, then?"

"Seriously? Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Yeah."

"A date."

"With, like, flowers and chocolate and shit?"

"No, we could skip the flowers."

"Okay. You're on."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E5

(Side note, pulling a "is that all this is to you" after two non-romantic interactions is not just quick in terms of hookup culture, which Ian is more attuned to, but is quick in any terms. More on that later.)

During this date, Ian is visibly very uncomfortable. Some would chalk this up to him having never been on a date before, and the writing even seems to imply that,

"Okay, look, I have no idea what I'm doing. My last boyfriend wasn't much of a talker, his idea of a conversation was to insult me a bunch and then punch me right before we banged."

- Ian to Caleb, S6E6

but that's actually not true, DESPITE the writers forgetting that.

"You know, Mickey and I never went out on dates. Ned never took me out, Kash and I fucked in the back of a convenience store, and I don't think jerking off strangers in a nightclub counts, so..."

- Ian to Lip, S6E6.

He actually HAD gone out on a "date" with Ned in season three, where he was visibly less uncomfortable than on his date with Caleb. He also went to many loft parties during his time dancing at the club, wherein he blended in very well and was able to sorta chameleon himself with the northside crowd. I think the show wants us to believe his discomfort is from him "never having been on a date before" or being unfamiliar with a "slower" pace, but I think his discomfort actually would stem from him just genuinely not being interested in Caleb in a romantic way, and thus feeling awkward on a date that's in a more romantic setting (compared to his one with Ned, which was undoubtedly more sexual.)

I also think his discomfort stems from being completely out of his element. Ian has taken a massive hit to his confidence since his diagnosis, so his Southside roots bring about a bit more hesitancy in him than it might have before, and he may be less confident in his ability to chameleon. That's why, during the date, Ian shows discomfort with Caleb when he shows more "class" than Ian.

"Usually, I get a bunch of apps to share. You good with that?"

"[Uncertain hum] ... Appetizers! Sure, yeah, big- big fan of apps."

[...]

"You seem like a very pensive kinda guy. You an only child?"

"Uh, no."

"Brothers and sisters?"

"A bunch, yeah."

"Older or younger?"

"Both."

"What about your parents? Both still alive?"

"... Yeah."

"... Fantastic. I'm learning so much."

[...]

"Where I'm from, people communicate with their fists."

"Where's that?"

"Southside."

"Mmm. Hands of steel. Okay, so you're a street rat. A brawler."

"Is that a problem?"

"Only if you make it one."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E6.

Then, beyond their first date, we have the actual relationship to dive into.

Throughout his scenes with Caleb, Ian seems to oscillate between neutrality, discomfort, or mild enjoyment in the situations he finds himself in.

There's this interaction, for example, where Ian lets Caleb take charge in defining their relationship:

"So what are we doing?"

"Whatever you want, I guess."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E7.

Or this moment:

"What are you smiling at?"

"I like having you over here. What are you smiling at?"

"I like having a purpose."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E8.

Or when Caleb invites Ian out with his friends, and we see Ian slip into his chameleon persona, mirroring the petty mannerisms of the most vocal participant of the conversation, as well as avoiding diving too much into his personal history.

"You haven't told me which one is your ex."

"Guess."

"Old guy, pink sweater."

"How'd you know?"

"Ooh, a redhead, Caleb? Does his carpet match his drapes?"

"You're a good sport."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E8.

[...]

"If we had known you were bringing a middle school student, Caleb, we wouldn't have come to a place that cards."

"Oh, no, it's cool, I don't drink. I hear it makes your skin old and leathery."

"That's-that's how we're playing this?"

"Hey, you threw down first."

"Where you from, kid?"

"Back of the Yards."

"Local boy. What's your story?"

"Story?"

"Who you are, what you do, how did you meet this chocolate bundt cake?"

"Met him at the firehouse."

- Ian and Gregory, S6E8

[...]

"We like this one, Caleb. Don't we, Gregory?"

"I mean, If young, beautiful, and kind of a smartass is something to like, sure, fine, I guess we do."

- Caleb's friends about Ian, S6E8.

OR, in a deleted scene where Caleb expresses frustration at Ian keeping the distance between him and Ian's family, as well as Ian's lack of communication, while Ian seems unbothered or even perplexed by Caleb's frustration.

"So, where'd you sleep last night?"

"Home. Got done at three, told you I'd be late."

"Yeah, like nighttime late, not next day late."

"Well, I didn't wanna wake you, and I had to go back there to grab some stuff: clothes, towels..."

"Where's there?"

"Home, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Back of the Yards."

"Right. You did mention that once. I still don't know where it is or who I'd call if there was an emergency?"

"Uh... my brother, I guess? Or my sister."

"Brother or sister. Okay. I'll just track down Ian Gallagher's brother or sister on the internet."

"I'll... put their numbers in your phone."

"Great."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E11 deleted scene.

OR any of the follwing:

When they go to get Ian tested for STDs, he is visibly uncomfortable having Caleb in the room with him.

He is only comfortable revealing his bipolar disorder if it is done in exchange for another secret from Caleb.

He isn't very comfortable sharing his past, only references his previous relationship in a lighthearted manner, and he only reveals his sexual history upon feeling pressured to do so, which he purposefully presents in a callous way.

To me, the entirety of Ian and Caleb's relationship reads as Ian's desperation for validation through sex, which leads to him putting up with a relationship he isn't entirely comfortable in or commited to or ready for. To me, it seems like he's truly just looking for companionship in any way he can get it.

Out of everything, though, I think what really gets to fans most about this storyline is the constant comparison of Caleb to Mickey as a means of demonizing Mickey.

Throughout the entirety of Ian and Caleb's relationship, there is a constant comparison between the two relationships, seemingly with the intent of painting Mickey as a horrible partner.

When Ian tells Lip about his upcoming date with Caleb, he remarks that he never went on dates with Mickey, which comes off as an unnecessary jab.

During his date with Caleb, Ian talks about his lack of effective communication skills, which reflects negatively on Mickey, to the point Caleb brings forward the idea of domestic abuse.

During the wedding that Ian attends with Caleb, Ian mentions Mickey's marriage to Svetlana, and he uses a tone that comes off as belittling the situation and how difficult it was for Mickey.

There's this line, when Caleb asks Ian to kiss for the first time:

"Can I kiss you?"

"I thought kissing comes after you've had sex a bunch of times."

"Ian, kissing comes whenever you want it to. Even now."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E6.

Then, there's Mandy stating that Caleb was better than Mickey.

"A hot black fireman. Also an artist."

"Upgrade from my brother."

"I miss Mickey, but uh... This new guy's nice."

- Ian and Mandy, S6E9

These near constant comparisons to Mickey are frustrating to fans, because it can often feel like Ian, or even just the writers and the narrative, are trying to belittle Mickey's character and reduce him to a one-note toxic ex, which completely spits in the face of the development that he went through. THAT is what is most frustrating to fans.

Because it's true that Mickey was not always the best partner. In real life, Mickey would be a walking red flag, and Gallavich would be undeniably toxic. But that applies to EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER in Shameless. That is the entire point of the show. None of them are particularly good people. They all do shitty things, but they all have compelling reasons for doing it. That's why we can look at these characters and feel connected to them instead of just absolutely hating them.

It's a really odd writing choice for a show that focuses on morally gray characters, or the idea that nobody in the show is really a good person, to decide to play moral high ground in this particular instance, and have Ian suddenly turn his nose up at Mickey's behaviors.

But is this really how Ian feels?

Because, as established, Ian is VERY good at playing chameleon. He is good at shaping himself into whatever a partner wants him to be. He mirrors his partners mannerisms, beliefs, and attitudes.

And Caleb, for all that the story wants to make us believe he's better than Mickey, is actually not the best partner either. Not just for cheating on Ian in season seven and then gaslighting Ian about it; he shows some toxic behaviors in season six as well, including being lowkey judgmental about Ian's Southside roots.

Take, for example, Caleb implying that the Southside is trash, but that he can see the beauty in Ian despite being from the Southside:

"That's my latest. I love to find the treasure inside the trash. Trying to find the secret life in things. What it wants to be instead of what it is."

"Is that what you're doing with me?"

"Good question. Can I kiss you?"

- Ian and Caleb, S6E6

(Which, funnily enough, this line from Caleb goes pretty against the sentiment that Monica had in season five, of Ian finding somebody who loves Ian for who he already is, as Mickey did.)

Or, for another example, Caleb judging Ian pretty heavily during the softball game for being "not grown-up." Simply because Ian expresses sexual interest in him above romantic.

"Cmon, let's get out of here."

"No. I knew you were younger than me, but I thought you were a grown-up."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E5.

Which, as I pointed out before, is really strange behavior. Participating in hookup culture isn't something that Ian needs to be shamed over. There's a sentiment of "Hooking up is beneath me, it's immature," to Caleb's tone, which is unfair. Now, he has reasons for this, that being his experience with getting HIV from a hookup who lied to him, which draws a pretty interesting parallel to Ian.

"Don't worry, guy I did the scene with said he was clean."

"He didn't use a rubber? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

- Ian and Mickey, S5E5.

Vs.

"Guy in college. He lied to me."

- Caleb to Ian, S6E8.

(Which I actually find to be a very interesting plot point and is actually a pretty good scene.)

So, while Caleb was not wrong to put forth a boundary by not hooking up, he was wrong for acting as if IAN was the problem in the situation. Not to mention, his behavior at the game is very strange when taken into account how little they've interacted thus far. He had understandable reasons for his negative reaction, but he went about it the wrong way. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?

Anyways, I could talk about the relationship between Ian and Caleb more, but that's not what the point of this is.

The point I'm trying to make is that Caleb, however covertly, expresses a negative or biased view toward the Southside lifestyle. And Ian, being the type to mimic his partners, follows along in that.

Ian already fears that he is going to be left. He is afraid that showing Caleb who he really is and not being the idealized version of himself will lead to Caleb breaking up with him.

"I'm enjoying it while it lasts."

"You think he'll dump you?"

"Well, I've told him I'm bipolar, and my family's screwed up, and he took it pretty well. But it's one thing to hear it and another to live it, so... We shall see."

- Ian and Mandy, S6E9

So, he chameleons. He makes himself the treasure in the trash. He distances himself from the image of a brooding, Southside street rat.

Because, after so long of constant pain and numbness during and post his diagnosis, Caleb is the first good thing he's found.

"I haven't been this happy in a long time."

- Ian to Caleb, S6E8.

And really, everything that I just talked about doesn't matter when you think about it that way.

No matter how dedicated or invested Ian was in his relationship with Caleb, it still provided him with companionship and validation, which as we know, is something that Ian has an unhealthy dependence on to find self-worth.

And I don't think Ian was wrong in searching for that connection simply because that connection wasn't with Mickey. He could've been well and truly in love with Caleb, and he wouldn't deserve some of the hate he receives for his canon actions.

It's easy to look at Ian's relationship with Caleb and get frustrated because of all the time that was put into Ian and Mickey's relationship. But beyond the instinctual negative feeling that comes with seeing Ian with anybody other than Mickey, his relationships outside of Mickey deserve to be analyzed and observed for what they actually do for HIS character, and not just immediately cast aside as unnecessary or ooc.

So, to summarize:

Firstly, Ian wasn't selfish for not waiting 15 years for somebody in prison. Whether he was serious about Caleb or not, Ian was under no obligation to dedicate himself to Mickey. Ian did not owe Mickey anything simply because Mickey was there for Ian when shit got tough. If they had been together, sure, Ian would've been a lot shittier for leaving Mickey alone. But as it was, they were broken up, and even if they hadn't been, Ian would've had every right to not want to continue seeing Mickey after his decision to harm Sammi, just as Lip was justified in not wanting to be with Mandy anymore after she ran over Karen.

Secondly, Ian dating Caleb wasn't bad for his character. In fact, I think their relationship in season six was actually a very interesting way to progress Ian's character and get more insight into his mind and how he operates.

Thirdly, Ian and Caleb's relationship deserves to be analyzed for what it is, rather than what it isn't. Just because Ian is not with Mickey doesn't mean that he doesn't undergo some huge development in this season, both in and outside his relationship with Caleb. Furthermore, Ian entering a new relationship gives us the opportunity to see more sides of his character, and as such the relationship should be analyzed as it's own separate entity, and not just as a hurdle in the way of Gallavich.

Fourth, Ian was not just waiting to cast Mickey aside to jump on the next dick possible. I've seen this criticism before, and when looking at his actual arc at the beginning of S6 and analyzing his general character, that's just simply not true. Entering a new relationship is not equal to immediately disregarding Mickey.

TL;DR: The hate Ian gets from this season mainly stems from "Ian date somebody aside from Mickey, bad Ian" without any further thought behind why he enters the relationship and what the relationship actually means to him. There is no separation in the minds of fans between Ian and Mickey, and therefore, Ian having experiences and an identity outside of Mickey is negatively perceived.

Season Seven: Putting His Own Wellbeing First

This one will be less long winded than the previous one, because I have less to say on it, honestly.

During the entirety of Ian's bipolar arc, it is pretty clearly shown that to maintain mental wellness, Ian needs stability.

When Mickey shows up and asks Ian to run away with him to Mexico, that's threatening to uproot every amount of stability Ian has managed to secure the past two seasons of the show.

I honestly don't see as much hate directed toward Ian for his decision to leave Mickey at the border as I see for his previous decisions. I'd say the main thing I actually see directed toward this season is just that Ian's story is boring without Mickey in it. Mostly because he enters another new relationship with Trevor after his relationship with Caleb, which really just follows the cyclical Shameless cycle of, "Don't know what to do with a character? Give them a new love interest!" But because I talked about the judgement for non-Gallavich Ian relationships above, I don't particularly feel like doing a deep dive into the Ian and Trevor relationship in this meta.

What I want to talk about relates to the Mickey Mexico storyline, though, and that's the hate other characters recieve for trying to dissuade Ian from going.

After finding out that Mickey escaped from prison, Fiona and Ian have the following conversation:

"What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. You ever, uh, think about about what would've happened if you'd run off with Jimmy-Steve?"

"Lying sociopath Jimmy-Steve? My life would be a nonstop psycho-thriller. I definitely dodged a bullet with that one."

"What if nothing ever gives you that same thrill again? Still feel like you dodged a bullet?"

"I don't know. Probably. Where's this coming from?"

"Things have been weird between me and Trevor since Mickey got out."

"You mean since Mickey busted out of prison and has got half the Chicago Police Department circling the Southside looking for him."

"Can't get him out of my head. Just trying to stop myself from doing something I shouldn't."

"You turned your life around. Mickey would set a match to it. You've done really great without him, and I'm really fucking proud of you."

- Ian and Fiona, S7E10.

I've seen this conversation criticized many times because of how "unfairly" Mickey is treated in this scene. But I truly think that nothing said in this scene was wrong, and Fiona was 100% right.

In the past, Fiona has definitely shown a prejudice against the Milkovich family before. Specifically with Mandy, Fiona seems to look down upon her and disapproves of the relationship between her and Lip. This on its own is unfair treatment and is annoying to witness.

But in this particular case, absolutely nothing she is saying is wrong or biased simply because Mickey is a Milkovich.

People take the line, "Mickey would set a match to it," and compare it to his behavior in late Season 4 through season 5, where Mickey is taking care of Ian, and say that Fiona is being untruthful or hypocritical. If Mickey had never been sent to prison, or even if he had just been released legally, and Ian was simply thinking about cheating on Trevor and getting back with Mickey instead of running away with him, then the criticism toward Fiona would be more justified. But as it is, Mickey is a wanted fugitive, and Ian running away with him would make Ian a fugitive as well, and WOULD effectively set a match to the life Ian had spent the past two seasons working toward. He would be giving up a career he worked hard for and fought to have, he'd be living in stressful conditions on the run, he'd have no support system, and he would have less ease of access to his medication. Running with Mickey would have been the wrong decision for Ian's wellbeing, and honestly, Mickey should never have asked Ian to go with him.

I think that many people have rose colored glasses on when it comes to Gallavich, specifically with Mickey, and that makes it harder to view these moments unbiased. But, looking at it objectively, Mickey was so wrong for asking Ian to come with him to Mexico. He KNOWS that Ian needs stability with his bipolar diagnosis, and he KNOWS that this would be a stressful life he'd be forcing Ian into.

Simply put, he's acting selfishly in that moment. Having your own interests in mind is not always a bad thing, but in this specific case, Mickey would have thrown a huge wrench into Ian's life is Ian hadn't made decisions in HIS best interest.

Again, I have less to say on this as I did other subjects, because to me it feels much more cut and dry. Mickey was in the wrong here 100%, Fiona was not being wrongfully judgmental toward Mickey, and Ian was not in the wrong for not going with Mickey.

After so long of seeing them apart, it makes sense to want to see them together again. So when Ian, again, is the one making the decision to end their relationship, fans are going to lash out at him and those around him.

But it's important to put aside biases and allow your favorite character to be in the wrong occasionally. Mickey is not perfect, and criticism against him, both from characters in the show and fans, is not unfounded nor unjustified.

TL;DR: Mickey was wrong for asking Ian to uproot his life and run to Mexico, and calling that out isn't defamation of his character.

To End This Yap Session:

Ian is by no means a faultless character, and he is not exempt from criticism both inside and outside of his relationship with Mickey. However, I often feel that the criticism he faces is for the wrong reasons, and not much contemplation or exploration is done on him as much as it is for Mickey.

I love Mickey. He's an amazingly complex character, and his relationship with Ian is one of my favorite parts of the show. But in being a complex character, he is also an imperfect character.

I feel that many fans get very protective over their favorite characters, to the point that anything that goes against that character's interests is labeled as bad, and any criticism toward his character is disregarded immediately.

In this particular case of Gallavich, I feel that post season three, fans often see things from Mickey's point of view without looking at Ian's as much. This meta was simply to give my own thoughts on Ian's most "controversial" moments among fans. Obviously this is mostly condensed to season six and his relationship with Caleb, which I feel is the biggest example of jumping to conclusions and only seeing the surface level of his character.

However, I would like to acknowledge that Ian is also an insanely popular character in the Shameless fandom. While he is misunderstood in many instances, he is given much more sympathy and understanding than many other characters in the show, especially many of the female characters. This long-winded meta is only focused on the concerning tendency for fans to link Ian's identity to Mickey entirely without allowing him to be an individual, but a majority of the time he is still a beloved character who is treated favorably by fans. Compared to a character like Debbie, Ian sees much more support, and I feel that the energy I put toward this meta and trying to understand Ian should also be applied to (almost) EVERY character in the show.

Anyways feel free to leave thoughts.

[oli-ribbun-ver]

EP 4 RAMBLE PART 3 FINAL!!

(ft the other episodes! but mainly ep 4!)

okay actually i think this is more of a gangle ramble now but thats fine

part 1

part 2

CONTINUATION OF THE GANGLE PEOPLE-PLEASER PART OF THE RAMBLE FROM PART 2!

lets see... where did i leave off... RIGHT!!

There are a lot of parts in ALL episodes where she doesn't want to cause problems for people. Which is typically normal for everyone, HOWEVER. Her idea of 'causing problems' is her opening up to people about how she truly feels, or even voicing her feelings in general if they're about someone.

I've already gone over the Pomni conversation and the bit where she has a mini breakdown, and I said I'd include even more of the other episodes in this, so! Let's begin at Ep 1!

Let's talk about what I've observed in episode one.

YES THIS IS IMPORTANT.

Notice how it's emphasized she says it quietly? (I know it's for comedic effect, but EVERYTHING seems to be important for every character, like how the darkness from the bucket on Kinger's head in Ep 2 helped him remember something about Ragatha before immediately forgetting it and then the reason he only remembers things in the darkness is explained! Seems like a minor detail that means nothing, turns out to be HUGE.

She doesn't want to cause a problem. In this case, the 'problem' would be her fully interrupting the conversation because she's worried about her friend. In the mind of a people pleaser, even if it helps someone out, you feel a sense of pressure on you when mentioning someone needs help to others, because "What if I cause a problem or make them mad? I don't wanna do that!", those thoughts are pretty normal, ESPECIALLY for people-pleasers.

"Wait, what about Zooble?" Is said so quietly, you can barely hear it. She either doesn't want her voice to be heard, or she DOES but is too scared to say it more loudly because of some version of the thoughts I described.

not as important but I'd like to note how she literally says NOTHING. like. nothing. i just think its kinda funny but also she just. doesnt give her opinion at all? she wasnt even asked if she wanted to go with them to check on kaufmo they just dgaf about her 😭

ANYWAY

This is the only time she gives her opinion and its not even an opinion HELP

Also I'm trying to save space so I don't have to make a part 4 so shortly into this, since I know I'll have to make one anyway, but I wanna mention how she hides behind her broken mask to protect herself after he screams which kinda hits different now that we know more about her mask.

But anyway, I'll make a seperate little portion of this ramble for that!

I'd like to mention too, anytime she is shoved, has something mean said to her, or has her comedy mask broken, she doesn't complain or say anything about it except for maybe an "ow". I find that interesting, because I think the reason for this is that she doesn't want anyone worrying about her. AKA, she doesn't want to cause a 'problem'.

She wants to please. One does not please by being a 'problem', right? That's probably how she thinks, anyway.

When Jax tells her to do something she doesn't want to do, whether he pressured her like that or not, it wouldn't have made a difference, because she can't bring herself to say 'no.'

In my opinion, from what it sounds like when she says "I don't think we—" she probably would've ended up saying yes regardless. Hell, if he'd just followed it up with "do it," I don't see a world in which she wouldn't, although she'd probably be more hesitant.

also why does his back bend like that he looks like hes gonna become an old man any second now HELP 😭

Also, when Jax threatens her by saying "Do it, or I'll tell Ragatha about the figurine thing," I think that really does something to her.

Every time she's either built up the confidence to say no, or someone has tried to help her say no, she's kicked down in one way or another INSTANTLY.

Episode 4 did not help with that. I believe in the next few episodes, she will not be better about saying no. She might even be worse off, knowing Ragatha thinks her being happy is annoying.

People-pleasers are in different worlds. Being the type of people-pleaser Gangle is, it's an entirely different world from others. It carries a lot of what I can only describe as delusion to it.

If Pomni had not stepped up when Gangle thought she was alone after work hours, Gangle would have abstracted. I am a firm believer in that. She was breaking. Losing her mind.

Gangle tells herself to stop trying to achieve her dream while breaking down over the fact her efforts to achieve her dream might not be enough.

So let's go there, and get a

Closer look at Gangle's mental state.

(and why she's most likely the least unwell character)

Gangle is mentally ill. Everyone knows that already, but to what extent?

I'm not sure if we'll ever know.

But what we do know is this.

More likely than not, Gangle almost abstracted in Ep 4. And out of everyone who has EVER vented so far, Gangle has shared relatively nothing. Even after the Spudsy's adventure, what we've seen so far is her never mentioning her feelings except that she feels like she messed everything up.

Gangle doesn't know how to help herself. Zooble can make her feel better, but not for long, because Gangle doesn't think she can get better.

When she was about to vent to Pomni, she stopped as soon as she felt like her feelings were REALLY about to come loose, put her new happy mask back on, said she had no time to talk about her feelings, and fled.

What I think is that Gangle thinks everyone is more important than her, so when she FINALLY got to be important she was happy. Really, truly happy.

The worst thing you can do is make someone think they're not wanted or loved.

Something that makes me sad is that Gangle does not feel wanted or loved.

Gangle was almost gone in Episode 4.

We almost lost Gangle. Had Gangle abstracted, she'd die without ever feeling like people cared about her.

For all we know, she could be the first person to abstract after Kaufmo.

I personally believe that.

The end of Episode 4 was a su¡cide attempt. (is that word allowed? im not sure..l ill censor it anyway)

I saw someone say this in the comment section of either the episode itself or a reaction video, and I completely agree.

They say before people commit su¡cide, they have a sudden boost of joy. Everything will be over soon. Why not enjoy that fact?

I think it was a subconscious su¡cide, at the very least.

She was happy. For the first time without a happy mask to hide how she feels deep down, she was happy.

She had a sudden boost of happiness, and then stepped backwards into oncoming traffic. When someone experiences a near-death situation by their own hand, there's a moment of regret before they are gone. I've experienced it myself, and it is horrid. That feeling is one I will never be able to forget. Even if I never so much as blacked out, I felt faint, and I will NEVER forget that fear, that horror, dread, regret.

The shock. Wondering if it was truly me who did it.

And I think. That is what Gangle experienced.

And then, that feeling was brushed off by Caine, whether she knew he doesn't understand the feeling of wanting to disappear or not, she was quick to blame herself for it all. Both about her performance to Caine, and alone, to nobody but herself.

"I guess I just... cracked under the pressure I suppose."

And maybe, just maybe.

That crack will never heal.

Thank you for listening and reading my ramble, everyone!! I appreciate it more than you know!

Bye bye for now, friends! Have a lovely day!

[urno1luv]

squid game (s1) aespa x reader🫣?? ningning is the only sane member + gets a happy ending tho😭

(as for the asks, don't worry!! i saw them all and i'm working on posting them!!)

tags: saebyeok's murder mentioned (😔), yandere behaviour, drugging, noncon, sadism, suicide mentioned once (reader), audiz are written together

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

KARINA and GISELLE, the VIPs

- flew over with giselle from japan just to watch this event, her perversion evident on her sharp features. she's definitely gonna have the time of her life

- her bets were placed on player 101, seeing how he was one of the most brutal players in the games, but giselle advised her to chose number 067 instead, citing her agility and her supposedly "callous" behaviour as a force to be reckoned with. aeri, after all, is one to listen to🙂‍↕️

- however, when both players have died and the only ones left are 456, 218, and you, 457, karina becomes pretty annoyed with giselle's guesses. "yah, uchinaga. we lost a million already, so choose a better player, don't make me lose more."

- luckily for rina, giselle already had her eyes on the cutest thing ever!!! your beautiful doe eyes glistening and filled with fear from player 218's sudden killing of your friend saebyeok. "hmm.... how about you bet on 456 and I bet on 457?" aeri suggests, smirking. "i feel like they might team up against 218, and the other VIPs are betting on him to win. let's divide our chances?" through a lot of coaxing, jimin agrees, her eyes following your every move.

- giselle and karina are pleasantly shocked once you suddenly use that brain of yours and successfully kill player 456 while he's occupied with the other player. with tears in your eyes, your knife enters his throat, giving him a quick death. though you cared about him very much, you couldn't afford to go against him in the next game when you were the finalists. rina tuts once you kill her pick, but it doesn't matter, bc the other VIPs now owe the girls their money since you won!!

- the guards escort you out of the arena, your legs weak with fatigue and guilt. aeri, however, has other plans for you ♡ "unnie, why don't we have some fun before we leave? think of it as a final parting gift!" jimin scoffs, but after thinking about it, why not?

- after being knocked out by gas during the ride in the lift, you wake up rather painfully, two slender but long fingers rammed into your cunt, pounding deep. you can't move your head to see who it is, but you feel woman's chest pressed against your back, her hot tongue on your neck, lips acting like a suction. your fingers twitch weakly, whimpering softly. your brain is too fried to realise that there's another woman sat beside you, smoking a cigarette, her deep voice ringing in your ears. "aeri, you made a good decision. she'll be pretty fun to play with," and she ended with small chuckle, hand snaking around your thigh. seems like you won't rest well tonight...

WINTER, the frontman

- she's by far the most evil, depraved, person out of all. her love for violence stems from an incident that happened when she was younger, in which her father got murdered before her eyes, and that changed her. it seemed as if her prayers were answered, bc he was not a good person to her at all. from then on, she grew up to believe violence was the answer, and violence was needed in order to get what she wanted

- she first saw you while watching players get their id photos taken, and your anxious and hesitant manner got her attention. what is this feeling she's experiencing right now...?

- her eyes gravitate towards you, even in a crowded room. minjeong feels a strange sense of protectiveness over you as you find a bed to sleep on, away from the others. her eyes gloss over with want as she obsessively watches you sleeping, chest rising up and down in your deep slumber. you must've cursed her because she stood in the security room all night, rooted to her spot. she's come to a conclusion, she has to have you.

- during the game where you had to take the marbles away from another player, using no force, you find yourself feeling sorry for the old man you were playing against. i mean, you only joined these games as a final resort, so if you die, it's what you would have wanted anyway. winter, on the other hand, was NOT going to let that happen.

- she orders the guard to not kill you, but after the game finished, bring you to her instead. her heart is pounding quickly, and her breathing has quickened. she would finally get what she wanted. a taste of you, your touch, your beautiful voice and your compassion for others, minjeong was ecstatic that she would have it ALL to herself..

NINGNING, □

- the detective who snuck in when she found out that her sister went missing. she killed a guard and took his clothing so she can investigate the place

- her plans quickly go to waste when she sees you while watching the cameras, your purity shining bright amongst the other players. she finds out that you came here to find the money to pay for your brother's university and for the massive debt you had, and ning makes it her mission to protect you <3

- quickly becomes hooked onto you, cooing as she sees you cowering from the guards whose guns point to your heads as you try to carve the designated shapes in the honeycomb cookies. she totally forgot her original mission, now she's here just for you

- once the night comes, she watches, in pain, as you scream and run from the mob who tries to kill as many players as they could, her fist shaking, fingernails drawing blood from her palm. she wishes she could help, but has to wait for orders from the head

- she decides that it's time for her to leave, but not without you. when the right time comes, she slips you a note, saying that she could help you escape, with the money, if you wanted. the two of you make a quick plan during your trips to the toilet, and you can't help but feel an immense gratitude for ningning. whatever would you do without her?

- once ning murders all the VIPs in cold blood, disgusting etched into her soft features, she quickly secures a suitcase containing millions of won. though it might not be the billions that were promised, it's better than nothing. she throws in some expensive items that the VIPs owned, and knocks twice on the room where the players stayed. successful in your joint mission, you both go through a secret pathway, and hop onto a boat that harboured nearby.

- fast forward to 2 years from now, ningning has won your love as well. after escaping to jeju island, she was surprised to see that you seemed to reciprocate her feelings, your plump lips landing on hers. not only has she secured a generation of money, but she also earned your affections <33

in case anyone wants the pictures, here they are!!!

ning is so baby here.. she cannot look intimidating for the life of her

[sprunkisunshinesuburbia]

Resident List part I

These are edited forms of the town’s documents and bios written by council member Therman. We omit things that could be considered far too personal for us (The town council) to reveal without consent but are merely to make introductions easier for vistors or new residents.

Jevin Amyclides

Age: 57

Gender: Male, He/Him

Height: 6’7

Color: Royal Blue

Quiet and reserved, he seems quite intimidating to talk to with the cloak, the stern looking expression he generally has and well… Alot of assumptions (mainly of the cult variety… Honestly I don’t blame anyone for making them- You really have to be careful out there...Some of them are a bit— Misguided on the whole sacrifice idea… Especially about the Sun!)

But when I actually talked to him he seemed pretty apologetic for— Uh almost everything he seemed to think he did wrong. He’s a very kind shy person just maybe a bit awkward- I feel a little bad for him sometimes, he cares a lot about his son and seemingly others he doesn’t know well. (Got real worried when I stubbed my toe- It was a little silly of me to like double over-)

He keeps to himself mostly, but doesn’t seem to oppose being dragged into things. Even if he seems a touch uncomfortable about it. I hope people don’t push him too much because… I doubt he’d push back….

Sky Amyclides

Age: 14

Gender: Male, He/him

Height: 4’10

Color: Sky Blue

Mr. Amyclides’ son, He’s pretty protective of his father- (It sounds like they’ve been through… Alot out there.. whoof.) he’s usually around him and often is the first to pick up on his dad’s unease and will let you know when you’re overstepping.

He’s a very smart and capable kid no doubt but it seems he’s trying to grow up too fast- Drinks his coffee black but cringes at every sip kind of person. Not very trusting either… Very curt with his answers.

Though if there’s anything that can get him to open up- It’s bears, he collects plush ones and loves talking about wildlife! Tells me that he has a bunch of books on them and even writes his own observations. It’s cute!

Gray Reindola

Age: 21

Gender: Male, He/They

Height: 4’10

Color: Gray

He doesn't really come out his house too often aside from going to his job at the theater and filming nature and other things in the park- (Which is where I usually see him- I haven't really seen a movie in awhile... Never found the time to.) I've asked him about his fancy camera which he told me was from his mom and that he used it for his film classes- Like maybe twice? And just kept making short films with it afterwards. I was kind of surprised how much he actually was willing to talk until he looked behind him and just- Suddenly excused himself to leave. I was confused for a moment and realized Wenda was here. (And um... He didn't really leave in time to I think avoid her?) And it was the three of us on the bench. He'd stop talking and just.. Filmed a leaf, On the grass while making this low hum. It was awkward....

Wenda Wilely

Age: 22

Gender: Female, She/her

Height: 6’0

Color: White

She's... Interesting to say the least- Uh I actually have no idea what she likes- She just seems to show up and sort of insert herself into groups and joke around a bit! I mean her sense of humor is...Er... Making playful jabs at people. (At least I think that's what's intended? She made fun of my lisp and then when Gray kept filming that leaf- I don't know what her deal is???) I stayed as long as I could tolerate the jokes and then her.. Asking me questions about myself and avoiding my own- She's... Maybe just not used to this place (She's relatively new here- Came alongside Gray but he says he didn't know her before moving here. Only that they're from the same city.) Maybe she'll settle at some point? She's odd. I mean everyone's bound to be but... She scares me a little.... She also works at the theater with Gray and I can only hope they're actually good friends and I just can't read people as well as I thought-

Pinned Post << >> Part II (WIP)

[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience 4

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 4th snippet. The freshly wed husbands have a little dispute about how to enter negotiations with the approaching Lindon army. Thankfully, Celebrimbor can convince Adar of a less aggressive approach than the one he’d originally planned for. Maybe Galadriel will even thank him for it.

I actually wrote part 2-4 in one sitting, so this is the last one of that batch. I have ideas for two or three more parts, already wrote some of that and got a bit more lined up to post but – I am flying by the seat of my pants with this fic/collection of snippets tbh. However, it’s been great fun so far! Not fully convinced yet that I’ll be able to bring this to a meaningful end, so no promises, but we’ll see what happens. Thanks again to everyone who has commented so far, you people are lovely! <3 (Also, check out this lovely chapter 1 addition by @plotdesigner right here, it's from Adar's POV)

"You are not sticking Galadriel in a cage!" Celebrimbor exclaimed. He didn't care that he might come across as agitated – with all that had happened to him in the last few weeks, he had a right to be as emotional he wanted to be, in his opinion!

Also, his new husband – it was still making his head spin, to use that term when referring to Adar – threatening to stick one of his best friends into a cage and then dramatically reveal her as his captive while Lindon's army charged at the uruk’s forces was an idea that warranted some hysterics. Not just in his specific situation but in general.

Adar looked quite unimpressed. "It will ensure that the army stops their attack, leaves my forces unharmed, and sends one of their leaders to listen to my proposal."

He made it sound so reasonable, when Celebrimbor could find nothing reasonable about the other's plan. The smith sighed and ruffled his own hair in frustration.

"A proposal that they will reject because you put their best commander in a cage and placed her in harm's way!" Why did he feel as if he were talking to a child? Was this how Gil-Galad felt when he argued with Celebrimbor?

The smith certainly hoped he wasn't wearing a mirror of the expression Ereinion so graciously bestowed upon him every time they had a dispute. The one that practically dripped of disappointment.

"What show of good will could they possibly expect after something like that?!"

Adar seemed taken aback more than anything else. He studied Celebrimbor critically, as if trying to figure him out, before he walked and sat down in the improvised throne in the middle of the tent they were in. He seemed...tired, all of a sudden.

Well, too bad for him, because Celebrimbor felt ready to continue arguing his case.

"And what guarantee do I have, otherwise, that they will not simply try and overrun my children before I get a word in?" the uruk spat. "Elves are not practicularly fond of listening to 'orcs' when my kin try to reason with them. They'd rather attack first and ask questions later."

"Funny, I should think the elves see it the same way in regards to the uruk," Celebrimbor replied, then held up his hands in supplication as Adar threw him a baleful glare in lieu of a verbal response.

Sighing, the smith tried a more delicate approach. "You can take me and Galadriel to the front with you. Have us walk up in front of the army, so Gil-Galad and his forces can see us. They won't attack their own people, or those who are by their side."

Adar looked sideways at the smith, but at least it didn't seem as if he would dismiss the idea outright. Celebrimbor decided to consider it as progress.

A loud exhale of air through Adar's nose and the uruk leant forward, bracing himself on his elbows on the table before himself. He fixed the smith with his gaze. "So the two of you can run to safety, once the attack starts, leaving me and my children vulnerable? I don't think so."

"I meant what I said," Celebrimbor cut in, and this time, he truly was getting heated. He stepped right up to Adar's side, slammed his hands on the table, and leant into the uruk's space as he continued. "When we took our vows. I will uphold our marriage, and our alliance. I still intend to save those I consider my charges. I will not abandon you, nor will I abandon a chance for a peace between our people, even if hope is a resource we have preciously little of at this time."

Adar had slightly widened eyes, but otherwise, nothing about him betrayed any kind of emotion. Slowly, he leant back, until elf and uruk could stare each other straight in the eyes.

There was a long beat of silence, and Celebrimbor almost felt himself falter in his conviction, until-

"You do mean what you say," the uruk confirmed. He sounded...wondrous, almost. Celebrimbor would have been insulted if not for the fact that he, too, was surprised by how much he wanted to believe in this peace, this alliance. "You would not betray this arrangement even if you were given the opportunity for it."

"Yes," the smith replied, simply, and allowed himself to soften. He leant his hip against the table to better face Adar. "I intend to see this through to the end. Which is why I am asking you to trust me, and let me help you with your plan. Let Galadriel and me join you at the front as you greet Lindon's army. Bind her, if you must, though I'd ask you strongly to reconsider that option. She won't do anything that could put me in harm's way. She wants Sauron dead as much as you do – and I."

"She and I both have a good relationship with Gil-Galad, and his herald, Elrond, who might accompany him. They will be wary, but they will listen to our words and agree on a temporary treaty at least, to discuss how to help Eregion. We can work from there I believe."

He wasn't a politician, at least not a natural one, but he knew Gil-Galad and Elrond. None of them had as much hate for the uruk as Galadriel had held, and even she was currently trying not to cause trouble in the camp. It would take time, and Celebrimbor would have to remain close to Adar's side to make sure none of them tried an ill-fated 'rescue' attempt on his behalf, but the smith was positive that they could find a solution. They had to.

It felt like so more than just Eregion and Mordor were at stake here. Especially with the foe they were up against.

Another moment, and then, to the smith’s great relief, Adar nodded.

"Very well. But you will get some armor fitted and wear it before we do this – just to be safe. Might be these elves will not deliberately attack you, but accidents are bound to happen when tempers are enflamed."

To the smith's surprise, this did not sound like a ruthless warlord contemplating that, as long as he was alive, Celebrimbor would do as a husband even if he was hurt. Or even that the chances for negotiations were better if he was in good shape once the elven high king saw him.

No, judging by how much Adar already let Celebrimbor get away with in terms of talking back at him, how he let him roam freely about his tent and the immediate vicinity (even if he was accompanied by guards at all times, for multiple reasons), didn’t bind him and hadn’t even put Galadriel back in chains again, well.

Maybe Adar truly did not just care about Celebrimbor’s wellbeing because it would yield him better results, but because he wished for the smith to be - and remain - unharmed.

Whether out of simple, common decency or some kind of genuine care for his new husband, that might remain to be seen. But it was a start. One that Celebrimbor could work and live with.

[sicksorrows]

dont get annoyed at me, sorry in advanced

would it be too crazy to say this about nanami? hes fictional anyway so it wouldn’t matter. but as much as I say this, yeah I do want him to fuck the living shit out of me until I pass out.

I want him to show me off so bad to the point he literally makes a pornhub page and posts the both of us fucking in every fucking position possible and doing every kinky thing possible. id let him rail me as my wrists are chained up on the bed frame and im gagged (or blindfolded) with his tie as he fucks me so well. I need him to cum inside me, continuously until I end up almost pregnant with just his cum and he has to shove his fingers back inside me to pull out everything. as much as I hate the thought of period sex I wouldn't mind trying it out just with nanami. I wish I could give him head while hes in a work meeting and he has to refrain himself from making too much noise while talking. I wish he could cheat on me and fuck another girl in front of me so I could just get mad at him. I wish I could peg him. I wish he would let people watch us fuck. I wish he could fuck into my mouth until I remember each vein and how long and thick it is, (hard and soft). same goes for his cum, I wish he would load a nut into my mouth until I remember the exact taste. I wish he would jerk off in front of me everyday so I can watch his rough large hands wrap around his cock so perfectly, as he strokes up and down faster and faster while staring into my eyes with his flushed face. I wish he would let me ride his nose every day and let me ride him every day, until he memorizes the rhythm and he fucks me in the same movement. I wish he could kidnap me and trap me in his place forever, id develop Stockholm syndrome if it meant staying with nanami. I wish he stalk me like a creepy man and take secret pictures of me, framing them all over his room and jerking off to them every night. I wish he could eat me out every night and drink up all of me, I want to disintegrate in his arms and make sure im left with my soul-less body with him and he has to keep it as a memory, caging up my remains and keeping it by his side until he dies, and we die together. I wish he could fuck me in semi public areas to the point we almost get caught. I wish he could slit my wrists and fuck the cuts. I wish he could love me to the point im all he needs. I wish he could fuck me in the small bathroom In an airplane and only telling me we have a few minutes before they call everyone back to their seats, I wish we could drink all night and get severely drunk to the point of almost getting alcohol poisoning but we still have time to fuck. I wish we could have sex in the ocean as he dunks my head towards the deep end letting all the sea animals see us, I wish he could watch me fuck myself. I wish he could fuck me with his weapon, I wish he could use ratio on me.

he could chain me up and blindfold me with his tie, but yet, thats still not enough. I need more. Ive never been a sex addict in my life and or never had sex before, so of course I sound like a loser virgin with no logic in sex but this man makes it seem so UGHHHHH. my biggest hc is that hes an experimentalist and he will try ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING no matter what. this part may be weird but I kinda want him to abuse me.. I dont even know where to let this out but I know as bad as it sounds I actually wouldn't be mind thrown across the room, pushed, slapped, punched, anything physical I wouldn't mind. I honestly would let him leave bruises on me and mark me as his any way he wants (ofc my statement wasn't a healthy option though) but still!!!!! fucking hell I feel the things I say aren't enough and im just repeating myself a bunch of times without actually thinking of anything new to say but I swear theres so much I wish to say but I can't seem to word it properly. anyway this obsession has gone way too insane if I see other people mention nanami and say that hes their man, my mood immediately changes, like this is MY MAN. MY MANNNNN MINE MINE MINE MINEEEE we are literally soulmates and everything!!!!! this is probably the second or third fictional man ive self shipped myself with because I genuinely love him so much and I dont think this obsession will go away in the next two or so years but telling people I know about this obsession is such a struggle mainly cause they think im a weird gooner or that I sound dumb so I only ever told my close friends who actually watch jjk and they dont get me at all :( sighs nanami is so adorable I want to squish him and hug him and throw him across the world until he comes crawling back to me cause GOD as im writing this im listening to music and everything reminds me of him, I can't handle this I wish to have a read man who can act like nanami and come to my life because im so close to manifesting nanami to come to me. I can't even handle this obsession enough I dont know why but I want him to be my everything I need every person in my life to be replaced with nanami. my doctor, dentist, teacher, friend, LITERALLY ANYTHING!!!!!!! ugh those fuckign biceps pleas ehe can choke me with them and id literally beg, BEG, for moreeee I need more, I need everything, and I need Nanami.

[spark-hearts2]

Cut Content From Chapter 3 of Therapy but It's just Zooble Interrogating Caine

Since I'm gearing up to post it, I've decided to drop some of my favorite lines that unfortunately didn't make it. Give it a read and question where the hell the context went.

“But, if you wanted to make one of us blind, you could. Don’t make me blind! This is just for example!” Pomni rushed out. That was the issue, right? She shouldn’t have said to do something to herself.

“Why would I do that? The Circus is a visual environment, it’s not designed to be accessible to the blind.” Caine asked back, slightly offended.

“But you are able to.”

He huffed. “Yes, I am able to. “

“I can interact with your senses directly, but as you have seen, it’s clunky and intrusive. I’m not supposed to interact with them like that, my access is just for calibration tests” he stated, clearly a little annoyed.

___________________________________

Pomni: “So the fact that I am currently thinking, is proof that my body is out there? Headset and everything still on it?”

Caine: “Hmmm, yep! I don’t know about the headset everyone keeps talking about, but most likely.”

Pomni: “So, then why can’t we remember anything?”

Caine: “Hmm? Are you having memory issues?”

Pomni: “I only can’t remember my real name?! Is that because of the Circus?”

Caine: “Hmm? No, of course not! I wouldn’t ask for your name in the introduction if it was expected that you wouldn’t remember it! I had to add that line about no one remembering anything after joining because everyone complained about the lack of warning.”

Caine: “I have no possible clue what could be causing that issue. But, I don’t know how your memory is stored, so I don’t know how your memory could have been dumped.”

Caine: “Again! I know I said it to you day one, I can control everything in the circus, but not your mind, as your mind is not in the circus”

“That’s not what you said on my first day” She pointed out. That implied something very different than what he said before.

“Eh, paraphrasing.” He dismissed.

___________________________________

Caine: “When you all are able to leave, I think I would like to see the outside. See beyond that exit everyone talks about”

Kinger: “You would?”

He’s been told so much about the world outside. And very vocally about all the differences between it and the circus. There are things that he’s been able to act on, like the design and placement of the stars, to things that would take too much power to implement permanently like better water physics for the lake. But, often whatever is described to him is things he does not even have a proper reference for. Like how it feels to write with pencil on paper.

But that’s too much information. Instead, he keeps it to something that he can visually perceive.

“Yes. I was told the sunrises are… different. More unique”

Kinger hummed. “It’s not too different from this… I think”

That was partially because Caine had been subtly improving the sunrise the second he realized that Kinger was going to watch it. He usually kept it pretty simple, as there was no point in rendering a dynamic set piece if no one was around to watch it. But if he noticed anyone was watching, he would quietly adjust it to be a bit nicer. More rays on the sun, greater range of color, re-enabled cloud movement so that the sky changed over time. Things like that.

And muting the Sun, of course.

“Maybe a- a webcam in an HDMI port, that'd do the trick.” Kinger mumbled. Caine glanced at him curiously, but he didn’t elaborate further.

__________________________________

Caine: “EVERYTHING in the Circus can be broken down into ones and zeros. It is called the amazing DIGITAL Circus for a reason!”

Caine: “But, obviously, your little human heads don’t work in ones and zeros. So, it gets translated in a way that you can understand”

Caine:“That data gets packaged up, like this cube here, and gets sent to you. I can see and track that data, but once you have it, I can no longer see it”

Caine:“Every nanosecond I am sending data to you. And your sending data back, of course”

_______________________________

Pomni: “Could you prevent someone from joining?”

Caine looks uncomfortable. “I have considered that.”

HE HAS?!

Caine: “You already know how I can’t make an exit, but to remove an entrance? If I can prevent the connection from being established, then no more people would get stuck here!”

Caine: “Which wouldn't help any of you, of course. But prevention can be just as good as a solution!”

Caine:“But it didn’t work”

Pomni:“Someone still joined.”

Caine: “Worse, they spawned in at the center of the circus, coordinates [0:0:0]. Currently, that spot is in the void. Not a good way to start the day, haha.”

Caine: “After that, I stopped looking for ways to hamper the connection process. It is simply too risky.”

______________________________

Pomni:“Are you connected to the internet?”

Caine:“I don’t know what that is”

Pomni:“Like, Wifi? Ethernet?”

Caine: "Pomni, If I can be frank" Caine: "I'd have to change my name!" Caine: “But, you and everyone else are the only external connections to the circus. So, unless you are connected to ‘the internet’ and can forward information to me! Then no, I’m not”

_______________________________

Caine: Check it out! I'm essentially a walking debug stick! Pomni: A WHAT??!!

[bunnybxby13]

Un Baile Inolvidable

cw: a bit of angst?? first time making a fic (please grant me mercy) slight mention of toxic!abby, yes this was inspired by Bad Bunny’s song

Latina!fem!reader x Abby Anderson

You thought that she’ll be the only one to be able to stay. Stay when things got hard and difficult. When you were difficult in your mind. When everything you built in your mind, your heart, your soul with this woman. Everything, everything and all the things under the sun, she was there in those dreams you had during the night and day. Her blonde hair shone so bright underneath the sun and those beautiful blue eyes that reminded of your home country’s beautiful blue oceans were always in your mind. Freckles littered her pale skin to her buff arms, the ones you used to trace over and kiss. You made stars on her skin that you swore that you’ll bring down to her. The scent of pine engulfed and invaded your sense of smell. The flowers were pine scented, the air, the bedsheets she use to lay in with you. Everything was her.

Maybe in another life, she’ll stay and you could build that family you deserved with her. Maybe in that other lifetime, she wouldn’t get up and leave any time it got difficult. Maybe that time, she wouldn’t even leave because her own mind liked to play stupid tricks on her.

Maybe another life, you wouldn’t be standing right in front of her, the music blasting in this stupid drug filled house and looking into those ocean blues you loved so much.

She grabbed your hand, gentle and yet with a firm grip. As if you would leave yet again. She knew she fucked up, badly. But this time, tonight, she needed you right here. With her.

“I can’t….forget about you.” She muttered softly into your ear, drowning out the music with her husky voice. Abby pulled you closer, her hand resting at her hips with the other gripping your hand gently.

“Abby…” You trailed off, shaking your head with refusal to see this through. You just got over her, over the long nights you spent bawling your eyes out at the old Snapchat memories of your dates with her. Memories of her speaking beginner Spanish or even trying your mother’s salsa rojo. It was weeks before you could actually have your regular hygiene routine down again. Weeks of her posting about going on trips with her friends while your heart was breaking to thousands - millions- of pieces at home. You have a good reason not to see this through.

“Please….please - just, just please..” Abby begs softly. “One last dance.” She looked into your eyes with hers, and God do they really look like the ocean of your home country.

Biting your lip, you knew this was a stupid idea. But Jesus if you didn’t miss the feeling of being next to her. Her body against yours while both of you danced to the music. You miss it.

“One dance…one.” You say, hearing the song play. You almost missed the way Abby’s eyes brighten as she guided you to the middle of the dance floor.

Dancing was something you two would always do every Sunday morning after having a cafecito con pan dulce, before Sunday mass. Sun rays would always peak through the white curtains, the scent of coffee wafting through the air while you two danced to old music. Bachata, cumbia, hell even slow dances, you both danced to it. To enjoy and savor her.

And does she remind you of it. Guiding your body to hers while she takes the lead steps. Back and forth, she guides. Spinning you around while you move your hips rhythmically to the music, breaths quicken while looking at each other’s eyes and even stolen glances at each other’s lips. Those soft, plump lips that pressed against your lips sweetly, passionately when she was feeling frisky. Those lips that worshipped your body like if you were a goddess. Her goddess. Same lips that told you she was leaving despite your pleads and begs. And now those same lips that pleaded for one last dance with you. She dipped you softly, raising you up as you spun away from her, only for her to pull you back. Back and forth, to the sides and spinning once again. A dance you’re all to familiar with when it comes to her, pulling back and pushing away.

“Come back to me..” She says huskily, the song coming towards its end. You shook your head.

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can.” The blonde stated stubbornly. She was desperate, grasping at every string to make you stay once again. She’ll promise she’ll change but she needs you here with her.

“Abby…..it’s time. You gotta let me go. Let us go.” You finally say, shakily. Even you had to take the hard pill and swallow it.

“I can’t, I won’t. You…you have to be here with me. Please baby I’m sorry. I’m begging here. I need you, please. I’ll be on my knees, begging you, anything. Just stay.” Abby supplicates. But even then, you shake your head “no”.

“…I….I thank you, Abby, for everything. For the dances, for the way you loved me, for the arguments and fights. For the dates and love you have given me. Abs….thank you. But, it’s time for us to let go. Goodbye.” You say, letting go of Abby’s hands. You backed away and before you turned around, all you saw was those same ocean blues well up with the tears you would wipe away with kisses.

Those ocean blues well eyes reminded you so much of the ocean back home. That golden hair shone brightly under the sun while her freckled skin was full of stars you swore you would bring down for her. All those things, those beautiful things, you finally said goodbye to. En un baile inolvidable.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Pretend just for a second that's me bursting through the walls from pure excitement.

Honestly, so many people are putting in so many great points on this post that I can’t respond to each individually. (I wish I could) If you are a writer that has a lot of anxiety I definitely recommend going through the responses of this post! It might help!

I believe that everyone here has great points and honestly, it's helping me a lot. Though I do kind of want to brush up on an area that I know I've been suffering with as a writer and someone who is disabled. Which is partially why I'm making this post now. (I'm in a constant battle with OCD and my ass is normally being handed to me)

Though there is definitely no "Perfect" word length, I know some (such as myself) have problems with fitting in or working without the cursed idea of having the perfect word count. For me, I find myself unable to post a chapter unless it's over 10k words because in my head that is the perfect length. This thought is false but also true at the same time. Apart of me knows that whatever length the chapter is, is perfect. But the other part (let's call it the word goblin) wants to meet a specific goal that is sometimes unachievable.

I'm chronically ill and this bastard (the goblin) wants me to sit down and write a 10k chapter in one sitting and when I don't, he (they/she/it/gob gob? I'm not on a first name or pronoun basis with this thing) begins to jump around in my skull like that DVD logo that never reaches the corner of the tv.

And that's something I'm struggling with right now. I used to be able to write a chapter (over 10k words) and feel proud of it within two days. Now I can barely make it to 4k words in a week but strangely I find that I'm still just as proud, if not more, of the things I'm writing. Even though sometimes I would love for Gregory House to just appear in front of me and bonk me on the head with his silly flamed cane and cure every little problem I have in my head. (Technically Foreman, the neurologist, would be the one who would have to help me but that's beside the point.) I know that without my silly little demon (Tourette's) and his little minions (other disabilities) that I probably would be stuck in the never-ending cycle of burning myself out.

As I write this, I realize that I've kind of lost the point I was making. What I was trying to say before my thoughts went wild was that if you are someone who can't escape the concept of "perfect" or need it to function (because lets be honest, some of us really need to be told what to do, me and decisions are constantly in a boxing ring dodging each other) just know that if you can't meet those standards its ok. It probably doesn't feel ok in the moment but that feeling won't last forever. You'll get back up whether you do it by yourself or someone manhandles you to your feet and smacks some sense back into you. (Or hugs you, what that someone does depends on the person you are. I'm a stubborn and spiteful little bitch so I need to get "smacked around" by someone to realize I don't have to do everything by myself.)

And as someone who needs to visually see that people really don't care that much about word lengths, I'm going to leave some screenshots below and I highly recommend any struggling writers who have OCD, chronic illnesses or are simply just a perfectionist to read them. And maybe it can help :)

Also sorry for the long post, I've been having these thoughts for days now and kind of wanted to release them into the world. But quick conclusion, THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS PERFECT WHEN IT COMES TO WORD COUNT OR IN WRITING. WRITE WHATEVER YOU WANT. WRITE PORN, WRITE FLUFF, WRITE LITERALLY ANYTHING, THE WORLD IS YOURS BABY (the word baby is not being targeted at you as a person or as a reader but is just a word that sounded like it would fit and I felt that it belonged there you know?)

I'm currently writing and trying to figure out what could be a possible middle ground for chapter lengths and just want some general feedback on what the (heavy on quotation) "perfect" length is. But I kind of want to hear why some of these lengths are better than others, or if you're someone who doesn't pay attention to length but the quality what are some things that normally keep you interested in longer chapters (or even shorter chapters) I have my own opinions as a reader but as a writer I'm very interested in what the 'general' opinion is. (I don't think I'll personally cater to the majority, but I really enjoy conversations that revolve around topics like this and its been a while since Ive had a deep conversation with other readers/writers and wanted to start one if anyone wants to discuss :)

[icewindandboringhorror]

Pages from trying to keep a little sketchbook-scrapbook type thing going for two weeks lol. I gave myself specific rules in hopes they might all end up more cohesive/consistent seeming, but alas, scribbly chaos reigns, it seems

[spacedlexi]

the way the ericson group were at the outbreak just a bunch of troubled kids who made various mistakes or committed crimes and were judged by a system that punished and abandoned them instead of giving them the support and love they needed, are then nearly a decade later put into a situation where now they must judge a troubled child for the mistakes and crimes hes committed against them. and 5 to 3 vote them out 😭